He stands, hands trembling. “To destroy both—the creatureandwhat we’ve become attached to… I must use the Spear from the inside.”
His words hang in the air, heavy with death. I swallow. “Inside?”
“Yes.” His expression is haunted. “Merge with it, dive through its wound, guide the blade from within. It may be the only way.”
I stare at him. Try to clear the miasma of dread settling in my chest. “You mean… you’d have to sacrifice yourself?”
He doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t say no. He only looks away, fingers brushing the blade’s edge. His eyes burn. “If I die, the Spear dies with me—or what remains. If I fail, the Veil breaks.”
The room smells of old wood and grief. I can feel tears behind my lids, choking me. I want to pull him into my arms, tell him there’s another way—but there isn’t, not one I can see.
“My God,” I whisper. “That’s… that’s a suicide plan.”
He meets my eyes, steady now. “Not just mine. Ours.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to do thisalone. We—” I reach for him, touch the bruise at his side, the dark under-skin veins, “we can try something else. Another ritual. Another source of magic.”
He gently pulls my hand away. Not harshly, but with the weight of inevitability. “There is no another. The Spear’s power is used up. Every ritual we’ve stretched beyond its safety. This corruption—I felt it seep into the blade. Into me.”
"I hate that you evenhaveto choose," I say. My voice cracks. “I’d rather you alive and mortal, Kursk. I don’t… I can’t handle you being legendary if it costs your life.” I swallow. “If it costsus.”
He closes his eyes. His breath rattles. “Olivia…” His voice is torn.
I press forward. “Then we do it together. If you have to go in, I’ll be there. If you have to lie, cheat, steal magic—I don’t care. We’ll get up at dawn and fight. And if this is the end, I want no illusions, no false goodbyes—only the truth.”
He opens his eyes. They’re haunted, yes—but something else glimmers: pride, love, fear. “You’re asking me to die.”
“Yes.” I swallow past the scream in my throat. “If that’s what it takes.”
He stands—and the room feels too small, his shadow too large. “If I go in… there’s no guarantee I’ll come back. Even the Veil might reject me.”
I move close. “Even if you don’t, I want you to know I loveyou—not the hero version, not the warrior,you—so much that knowing I stood by you will be my armor.”
He closes the distance between us. His breath warm against my forehead. “Olivia…”
He steps back, already limping, the wound at his side flaring. I see the pain flicker across his features. The shard on the floor vibrates, faint light pulsing in its veins.
I try to stand strong for both of us. But my hands shake. My throat is dry. I taste ash.
We are both fragile.
I look at him, my heart in my chest like a wounded bird. “Let’s do it. Tonight.”
His breath comes fast. “Tonight.”
He turns, limping toward the table, gathering his cloak, the Spear’s pieces, knapsack. I follow. The world outside is still unmade. Reporter vans roll away—or being blocked off. Walnut Falls is still reeling.
He stops, hand hovering over the shard at his neck, where it's fused. The blade looks alive, like it’s breathing. A fine sheen of dark liquid along its edge. I flinch.
He looks at me—his eyes torn between resolve and fear. “If I don’t come back?—”
I step close, pressing both my hands to his chest. “You will. I promise. If the world ends, at least let it be with you.”
It’s no less terrifying than standing on the edge of a cliff. But we both know it’s the only path left.
He’s sitting by the shattered window, sunlight cutting across his scars. Kursk looks like he’s carved out of stone and regret. The shard of the Spear lies on the table between us, its veins glowing faintly, like fireflies caught under skin. I can smell the last rain on broken glass, hear distant news trucks rumbling, smell coffee gone cold on the counter.
“Kursk,” I say, my voice soft. “Walnut Falls is a lost cause unless we movenow.”
