The pages begin to flip at a furious pace before landing on one with incantations in Ancient Fae.
Is this what you seek?
“I—” I glance up at the Matron, who is watching with rapt fascination. “Is this what we’re looking for?”
“It would appear so.”
The Matron dives into the text on the page before giving me the crash course on the After—the place where souls go before they pass on fully. I don’t know what time it is when we finally break, my entire body exhausted from crying and screaming and running on fumes for the last few hours. My head swims with new information. I pray it sticks for tomorrow.
Refusing to leave the cabin that houses Zadyn’s body, the Matron sets me up with some pillows and blankets on the couch, giving me one last warning not to disturb him.
“Faith.” She wags her finger at me, a stern look on her face, before disappearing down the darkened hall.
My eyes fly open at the first blush of dawn through the curtains. I fall off the couch, kicking myself free of the twisted blanket to clamber into the other room. My heart is thundering out of my chest as I race to Zadyn’s side.
I sink to my knees beside the table. My blood has absorbed.
“Thank you, god,” I breathe, snatching up Zadyn’s icy hand and bringing it to my lips. The Matron appears behind me, parting the beaded curtains.
“It’s time.”
87
SERENA
6 DAYS
Death is no stranger to me.?*
You can cling to a body all you want, but it’s like clinging to air. It will never be yours. It will never fill the holes. It will always leave you grasping at nothing.
Zadyn lies on the wooden table, drenched in eerie stillness, his long legs dangling over the edge. The Matron lights candles and spreads them at eight points throughout the room. Taking a piece of white chalk, she scribbles a series of runes on the ground.
My Zadyn and the body that lies before me are two different people entirely. It sickens me to see him without color. To watch the gray set into his once vibrant skin. To see his beautiful mouth frozen in a tight line. To not feel the life and vitality rolling off of him.
No, this is not Zadyn.
And yet I cling to him, praying against all odds that I can make something out of nothing. That our bond is strong enough to rip him back from death’s unrelenting grasp and return him to my side.
For Zadyn, I need tobe a god.
So for Zadyn, I will.
“You are his anchor,” the Matron says.
“What does that mean?”
“You are the only thing linking him to this world now,” she murmurs, concentrating with her eyes sealed shut. “He remains on the other end of your bond. I can feel him there—eager to pass on, but reluctant to let go of you.”
I squeeze his hand tighter, smoothing his brow with my fingers.
It isn’t right. It’s too rigid, too cold.
“You will need to speak to him. Remind him who he is. Remind him who you are.”
I nod, drawing my hand over his hair.
“On my mark, you call to him.”
