Chapter 108: The Fall of a Tyrant Lucas POV

There was silence on the battlefield. 

The silence was not one that resulted from relief or tranquility. It was the thick, stifling type that comes after a storm, as though the world itself was holding its breath. The ground was covered in fallen people, and the air was heavy with the smell of smoke and blood. With a mixture of amazement and incredulity, the rebels who had survived the slaughter and were still standing glanced at Anna. 

Oliver was lying at her feet, immobile and broken. His burnt body stood out sharply against the blood-soaked ground below, and his once-imposing figure had now collapsed into a crumpled heap. He was not yet dead, but he was very nearly so. His chest rose and fell in weak, irregular spasms, and his breaths were shallow. 

With her shoulders heaving and her hands still burning dimly from the last of her power, Anna stood over him. Her hair was knotted and wild, and her face was stained with blood and filth, but her eyes... her eyes burned with a fire that had not gone out. She had the appearance of the warrior she had transformed into, the leader who had overthrown a despot. 

But she did not deliver the decisive blow. 

Rather, she looked away from Oliver and looked out over the battlefield. Despite being strained and raspy, her voice could be heard over the quiet. 

"It's over." 

Those two words seemed to break the spell that had fallen over the rebels. A murmur swept through the throng, increasing louder until it became a cry of triumph. The remaining warriors of Oliver's pack, those who hadn't fled or fallen, dropped their weapons and sunk to their knees in surrender. Their cheeks were pallid, their eyes wide with amazement. Their alpha had never been defeated. They never thought it could happen. 

But Anna had done the unthinkable. 

She had defeated him. 

My heart thumping in my chest, I forced my way through the mob. Oliver's warrior had hit me, and my side was still hurting from the combat, yet I hardly felt the agony. Anna was all I could think about. 

I could see the toll the conflict had taken on her, even though she was still breathing and standing. Beneath the blood and grime, her face was pale, her hands shook, and her legs faltered. She appeared to be on the verge of passing out. 

"Anna," I cried out, my voice raspy with emotion. 

Her eyes softened as they met mine as she turned to face me. We briefly thought we were the only two individuals on the battlefield. Everything faded into the background, including the crackle of fading fires, the groans of the wounded, and the applause of the rebels.

"Lucas," she said in a scarcely discernible whisper. 

I didn't consider. I didn't think twice. 

After taking a few swift steps toward her, I drew her into my embrace. 

A moment of astonishment caused her to stiffen, but then she melted against me, her body sagging with fatigue. Her breath was warm across my skin as her face was buried in my chest. I encircled her with my arms, holding her close as though I could protect her from the outside world. 

"You did it," I whispered into her hair, my voice full of relief and satisfaction. "You did it."

I sensed her nod against me, but she didn't answer. Her fingers were shaking as she gripped the back of my shirt. 

The rebels started to move about us, securing the surrendered fighters and caring for the injured. Among them was Maia, guiding the others with a determined although pale expression. She glanced at me and smiled slightly, wearily, then returned to her work. 

However, I held onto Anna. 

Not quite yet. 

Not until I was certain she was all right.

After a long moment, she drew back just enough to give me a quick glance. Despite her weariness, there was a glimmer of something else... something gentle and vulnerable... in her eyes.

"I didn't kill him," she whispered softly, scarcely raising her voice above a whisper. 

I scowled as I looked at Oliver's still body. "Why?"

She paused, her eyes falling to the floor. "I didn't want to become like him." 

Her words were like a kick to the stomach. I realized then, more than I had before, the weight she had been carrying. It was more than just beating Oliver. It was about demonstrating that she was superior to him and that she could prevail without becoming less of herself.

"You're not like him," I said firmly while holding her face in my hands. "You never could be."

She looked into my eyes, and I noticed the doubt she had been concealing for the first time. The worry that she would go too far and be unable to turn back. 

"You don't know that," she said in a whisper. 

"I do," I responded in a firm voice. "Because I know you." 

She appeared as though she might protest for a second as her breath caught. She leaned into my touch as her shoulders loosened, though. 

"Thank you," she said in a scarcely discernible voice.

I didn't answer. I didn't have to. 

Rather, I drew her back into my embrace and held her as firmly as I could. This time, she didn't fight, forming herself into me as though she were supposed to. 

Perhaps she did. 

The rebels around us carried on with their work, their voices a faint hum in the distance. The aftermath was just getting started, but the war was done. A pack needed to be rebuilt, captives needed to be secured, and wounds needed to be attended to. 

None of that mattered now, though. 

Anna was all that mattered. 

And she was still living.

That both of us were alive. 

She drew back again after a lengthy pause, her hands lightly resting on my chest. "We should..." she started, but her voice trailed off as she looked around. 

"Yeah," I replied, grudgingly releasing her. "We should." 

After nodding and inhaling deeply, she squared her shoulders. The steely resolve I had grown so accustomed to seeing in her eyes had replaced the vulnerability.

We turned to the rebels together. 

The war was ended, but the battle had not.

Not quite yet.

The next few hours were a haze.

The injured were taken to safety and given the best care possible for their wounds. With their faces still white with astonishment, the surrendering warriors were disarmed and put under surveillance. The corpses were arranged with a reverence Oliver had never shown them in his life. 

With a soothing influence, Anna moved among the rebels. Despite the fatigue on her face, she spoke steadily and in low, comforting tones to them. She assured them that their struggle had not been in vain and commended them for their courage and sacrifice. 

I remained at her side, letting her know that she wasn't by herself. 

At last, Anna paused as the sun rose, illuminating the battlefield with a faint glow. With her arms folded across her chest and her eyes focused on the horizon, she stood at the edge of the clearing. 

I took my time approaching her so as not to shock her.

"You should rest," I said in a quiet voice.

She gave a headshake. "Not yet." 

I refrained from arguing. Rather, I stood next to her, my shoulder grazing hers.

We were silent for a long time as the consequences of all that had transpired weighed heavily on us.

Anna finally said something. 

"What happens now?" she said, her voice hardly audible above a whisper.

I looked at her, and the doubt in her eyes made my heart hurt. 

"Now," I continued, "we rebuild." 

With her eyes focused on the horizon, she nodded.

"And Oliver?"

After a moment of hesitation, I reached for her hand and threaded my fingers through it.

"He's at the mercy of the pack now," I replied. "They'll decide his fate."

She remained silent, but she tightened her hold on me.

As the sun rose over the battlefield, we stood together and watched. 

The downfall of a despot. 

The beginning of a new age. 

And the start of something we had neither anticipated. 

Something tangible.

Something enduring.

Something to fight for.