The silence that fell in the wake of Morwen’s defeat was more profound than any quiet Rowan had ever known.
It wasn’t an absence of sound, but a presence of peace.
The violent shriek of dark magic had been replaced by a low, resonant hum, a vibration that seemed to rise from the soil itself, thrumming through the soles of her worn boots and up into her very bones.
Dawn was breaking over Brooklyn, painting the bruised sky in hues of soft rose and pale gold.
The light filtered through the canopy of the garden’s central oak, but it was no longer ordinary sunlight.
It was fractured into a thousand shimmering motes, catching on leaves that now bore faint, silvery veins and dewdrops that glittered with the impossible iridescence of Fae glamour.
The air, once thick with the metallic tang of battle and ozone, now smelled of damp earth, night-blooming jasmine, and something else—something ancient and wild, like a forest after a cleansing rain.
Rowan stood near the center of it all, her hands still trembling from the torrent of power that had surged through her.
She felt hollowed out and overflowing all at once.
The Heartseed, no longer a hidden core but a visible, gently pulsing sphere of emerald and gold light nestled among the roots of the oak, beat in time with her own heart.
She was the garden, and the garden was her. The connection was absolute, a bond forged in fire and fear and love.
Kael was leaning against the trunk of the oak, his silver-bladed sword resting on the ground beside him.
The deep gash on his side, a parting gift from Morwen, was slowly closing, knitting itself together with threads of soft, white light.
His face was pale and etched with exhaustion, but as his gaze met hers across the transformed space, his eyes held a depth of adoration that stole her breath.
He had been wounded, grievously so, but the same power that now suffused the garden was mending him, piece by piece.
At the garden’s edge, Liam was helping Mrs. Rodriguez to her feet.
The small, fierce band of community allies who had held the gates looked on with a mixture of terror and utter awe. They had seen enough to know this was no ordinary corporate battle, but the full truth of it was a story for another time.
For now, they were simply stunned witnesses to a miracle.
“Is it… over?” Liam’s voice was hoarse as he walked towards them, his eyes wide as he took in the glowing moss that now traced the brick walls and the faint chime of the bluebells, which seemed to ring with an unheard melody.
“She’s gone,” Kael said, his voice a low rumble.
He pushed himself off the tree, his movements stiff but steady. “Her connection to this place—to this world’s magic—is severed. The Heartseed expelled her.”
Rowan took a shaky step forward, reaching out a hand not to Kael, but to the air itself. It felt thick and alive, like water. “It’s more than that. It’s… changed. The garden. I can feel it reaching.”
Kael nodded, his expression one of profound reverence.
He closed his eyes, his Fae senses drinking in the new reality. “The bridge you created… Rowan, it’s stable. The Heartseed is no longer just a reservoir of this world’s magic. It’s a conduit. It’s drawing on the raw vitality of this city, this human world you love so much, and channeling it.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and a single tear traced a path through the grime on his cheek. “I can feel it. A thousand miles and a world away. I can feel a drop of rain falling on Silverwood soil. The first in a generation.”
The words hung in the air, potent and heavy with meaning. He could feel his home. The conduit was working.
The magic of this vibrant, resilient world was beginning to flow into his own dying realm, a slow, life-giving transfusion.
A cold knot of fear tightened in Rowan’s stomach, an echo of the betrayal that had almost destroyed them.
His mission was complete. Not in the way he had intended, not through theft and destruction, but through unity and sacrifice.
His people were being saved.
And now he could go home.
She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, to ask the question that clawed at her throat. She simply watched him, her heart a leaden weight in her chest.
She had found a world of magic she never knew existed, had fallen in love with a man who was more than a man, and now the story felt like it was ending.
He saw the fear in her eyes, the sudden shuttering of her expression. He crossed the space between them in two long strides, his hands coming up to gently cup her face.
His touch was warm, solid, and achingly real.
“My duty was to my people,” he said, his voice soft but firm, a vow spoken in the heart of their new Eden. “My life’s purpose was to find a way to save them from withering into dust. I came here to take, to steal a heart and leave a wasteland behind.”
He brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, his gaze unwavering. “But the garden has done what I never could. You have done what I never could. You didn’t just save my world, Rowan. You built a new one, right here.”
He let out a long breath, a sound of release, of a great burden finally being set down. “The Prince of the Silverwood Court is no longer needed. His duty is fulfilled.”
He took a half-step back, and for a terrifying second, she thought he was letting go. Instead, he straightened to his full, regal height, the morning light catching in his silver-streaked hair.
His voice rang out in the quiet garden, formal and clear, imbued with the innate magic of his lineage.
“I, Kaelen of the Silverwood Court, son of Olen, do hereby renounce my claim to the throne and all titles and duties therein,” he declared. “My life and my sword are now sworn to the protection of this place. This bridge. This New Eden.”
He paused, and his formal mask melted away, replaced by the raw, unguarded love she had come to know. “And to its queen.”
The breath she had been holding escaped her in a sob.
He wasn’t leaving. He was staying. He was choosing this—the concrete, the ivy, the grit and chaos and beauty of her world. He was choosing her.
She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as he wrapped his own tightly around her waist, lifting her off her feet.
The last vestiges of fear and doubt washed away, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated joy.
Liam cleared his throat, a small, awkward sound that brought them back to earth. “That’s… great. Really. But just so we’re clear, what am I supposed to tell the community board? ‘Sorry, our volunteer landscape consultant was actually an interdimensional prince who just abdicated his throne to become a full-time gardener’?”
Kael set Rowan down, a slow smile spreading across his face.
It was a genuine, easy smile, one she had seen so rarely, and it transformed him. “You are the journalist, Liam. I’m sure you’ll find a way to frame the narrative.”
“We’ll tell them a version of the truth,” Rowan said, her voice stronger now, clearer. She wiped the tears from her eyes, feeling the thrum of the garden’s power settle into a steady, reassuring rhythm inside her. “Vex Development was trying to exploit a unique geological and ecological phenomenon. We stopped them. The garden is now under a new kind of protection. A permanent one.”
It was enough. It would have to be.
The world might not be ready for the full truth, but they would see the proof of it every day.
No developer would dare touch this place now, a glowing, thriving oasis that pulsed with an energy that could be felt for blocks in every direction.
A week later, the garden had settled into its new reality. The initial, overwhelming glow had softened into a gentle, ever-present luminescence.
The plants were a riot of impossible color, their growth vigorous and healthy. The community, bewildered but overjoyed, began to return, speaking in hushed, reverent tones about the “miracle on Fourth Street.”
Rowan stood by the rose bushes, which now bloomed in a deep, velvety blue, their petals edged in silver. She gently pruned a stray stem, the shears feeling solid and familiar in her hand.
The work was the same, but the world was infinitely larger.
She felt his presence before she heard him approach. He moved with a new lightness, unburdened by the weight of a dying kingdom.
He came to stand beside her, no longer a prince in disguise, but simply Kael, dressed in jeans and a faded t-shirt, a smudge of dirt on his cheek.
He handed her a steaming mug of coffee.
“I’ve finished reinforcing the wards on the northern wall,” he said. “Liam’s motion sensors are a surprisingly effective addition to the Seelie runes.”
“A prince and his botanist, saving the world with ancient magic and a trip to Best Buy,” she quipped, leaning against him. He wrapped an arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder, the two of them fitting together as if they were always meant to stand this way.
They looked out over their domain.
Children were laughing near the koi pond, their giggles mingling with the faint, magical chimes of the flowers. Mrs. Rodriguez was showing a neighbor the tomatoes, which now grew in clusters of crimson and gold. It was a perfect fusion—a Brooklyn community garden that served as an embassy between worlds. An anchor of hope.
“My father will have received my message by now,” Kael said quietly, his gaze distant for a moment. “He will name my cousin as his heir. The line will continue.”
“Are you okay with that?” Rowan asked, searching his face.
He looked down at her, his eyes clear and certain. “My home was a memory of what it once was. A gilded cage of duty and fading light. This,” he said, gesturing to the vibrant life all around them, “is a future. It’s real. Tangible.”
He brushed a kiss against her temple. “You are real.”
They stood together in comfortable silence, watching the morning unfold. The hum of the city—the distant wail of a siren, the rumble of the subway, the shouts of kids playing street hockey—was the backdrop to the garden’s quiet magic.
They were two worlds, not colliding, but learning to live in harmony.
“So,” Rowan said, taking a sip of her coffee. “What’s next, Mr. Finch?”
Kael smiled, a slow, warm curve of his lips. He looked from the impossibly blue roses to the skyline of the city beyond the brick walls, then back to her face, his home.
“We grow,” he said