Victor's eyes opened three hours after the healing, just as dawn was breaking over the ruins of Warwick Castle.
Seraphina sat beside his makeshift bed in what had once been the castle's great hall, now serving as a triage center for the wounded from both sides. Around them, alliance medics worked to treat injuries that ranged from silver poisoning to electromagnetic burns, their quiet efficiency a stark contrast to the devastation visible through the shattered windows.
"You saved me," Victor said, his voice carrying genuine confusion. "After everything I did—Elena, twenty-three years of manipulation, tonight's battle—you chose mercy."
"I chose to be better than my anger," she replied, checking Damon's pulse where he lay unconscious on a stretcher nearby. The silver-core bullets had been removed, but his recovery was slower than normal werewolf healing should allow. "Whether that was wisdom or weakness, I guess we'll find out."
