Chapter 8: The Aftermath
Julian woke up to the steady beeping of a heart monitor.
He blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights.
Clara was asleep in a chair beside him, her hand gripping his tightly.
She was wearing a simple cotton shirt,
her hair tied back,
looking more beautiful than she ever had in her designer gown.
As he shifted, she woke up, tears immediately flooding her eyes.
"You're awake," she choked out, burying her face in his chest.
"The miners?" he rasped. "Saved," a voice came from the doorway.
Maeve stood there, holding the hand of a young, soot-covered boy—her grandson.
"All three hundred of them. The water swept you into the main drainage basin. My grandson pulled you out."
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Julian smiled, a profound sense of peace washing over him.
The empire was gone, but his soul was intact.
