I shake my head. “Please? Please! If you love me, then you must. You must find a way. I’m dangerous. To you. Toher. To your future. I’m dangerous to everyone.”
“No. You are not. For you’re not gone.”
“Not gone!” I cry. “Where am I then if not here? My soul? I’m forsaken! My soul was torn from my body. Eaten. Destroyed!”
“It’s not gone,” she says. “Of course, it’s not. Never. It can never be gone. Not truly.”
Nothing new was ever created. Nothing ever destroyed.
But I fear those are just words from the Valya. Just words written by men who fear death and pray for eternity—the eternity we once had, the eternity we lost when we fell.
I shake my head. “If I’m lost, then,” I say dully, and rise to my feet, my legs shaking. “Can … ?” I step forward. “Can you help me find the pieces? Can you heal me?” And for a moment, something like hope shudders through me with the tiniest spark, and I remember our past together so fucking clearly. An eternity flashes in my mind. I remember meeting Asherah, losing her, being captured and her finding me, saving me—saving Auriel.
But she frowns, and shakes her head. Her eyes water. “I cannot heal you. I am sorry.”
“Fuck.” My voice breaks. “What is this then? Why am I seeing you? What are you doing here?”
“Because you called out to me in your heart. Because you needed someone. Because you’re alone. I’m here because you’re dying. And because I’m sorry for it.”
At this I do cry. Falling to my knees, to my hands. I’m on all fours, primal, naked. Broken like an abandoned child. As angry and scared and helpless as the soul we tore from Shiviel centuries ago.
Somehow, the human part of me is winning, fighting back. Desperately going for its final breath. Clawing at life. The sobs are racking my body. My chest hurts and I don’t know if it’s because I’m crying too hard, or because I can feel the absence of my soul and it’s killing me. Actually fucking killing me. Nothing has ever hurt worse than this, than the missing of my soul, of my essence. My humanity.
“Get up,” she commands. “Sit with me.” She kneels beside me, her arms outstretched.
I do as she says and sit, and she moves closer to me, wrapping her arms around me. But not really. She’s not really here. I feel her somehow, but not physically. She’s spirit only. Light. Maybe less, maybe nothing more than an illusion. A dream to comfort me in my final moments. But even if that’s all this is, I’ll take it. I let my head fall against her chest. Pretending it’s real. Pretending I feel her.
“You’ll hold me?” I ask, already calmer.
“Of course I’ll hold you. I’ll always hold you,Rakame.”
“Will you stay with me while I’m still Rhyan? Until I’m not? Until the end?” I ask.
“Until the end,” she says.
I wrap my arms around her, through her. Truthfully, I’m holding myself. I’m still sobbing. But my tears have stopped. And so have my breaths. The sky is darkening. Nearly black. The sun is gone. There’s a foul, cold chill in the air. Far too cold for spring. My last sunset, my last view of the sun, my last time feeling. This really is the end.
“Where is she?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Where’s Lyr? Is she …” My stomach knots. And then this is what becomesthe worst pain of my life, worse than the missing of my soul. Missing her. “Is she safe?”
“She’s safe,” Asherah says, her translucent fingers running through my hair, smoothing down my tear-streaked face. “She was sent away.”
“Was she captured?” I ask, already afraid my father has her, or our new fucking Emperor.
“No. No man of the Empire holds her now. She was sent away by a higher power. Away from you.”
Away from me.
I close my eyes, my head falling forward. Of course. Because I’m the threat. Because I wouldn’t stay away from her dead or alive. Because she wouldn’t stay away from me. I can already see it. She would have come for me. She would have called onRakashonimto heal me. She was trying to get to my side back there, trying to reach me. And it was good she didn’t. It would’ve killed her. And if somehow that didn’t, then once I changed, I would kill her. And I can’t live with that horror.
Gods, I want Lyriana. I miss her. I need her. I want to see her. I want to kiss her and hold her, and hug her. I want to plunge inside her, and fuck her until I forget. I want to talk to her and taste her and lay in her arms and weep. And most of all, I need her to hold me.
But she’s safe. And that’s all that matters. She’s away from me. My Lyr. My partner. My love. My soulmate. She can’t get to me now.
“Thank the Gods,” I croak.
A harsh wind blows, and Asherah’s form fades, almost like she’s a light flickering out.
“I’m sorry,” Asherah says. “I came to be with you. So you wouldn’t be alone. But I cannot hold this form any longer. I’m not supposed to come here anymore. Not when the other part of me still lives.”
