“The bond of soul to soul is not broken by death,
but the weight of separation will hollow even the strongest spirit.”
- The Old Book
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer at the facility—I was somewhere else entirely.
The vast room around me had walls painted the deep blue of midnight, stretching endlessly upward into a swirling mist of darkness. There was no ceiling, only the delicate spirals of shadows high above. Gentle, golden light emanated from unseen sources at the corners of the room, warm and comforting—entirely different from the stark glare of the facility. This atmosphere calmed my restless spirit.
“Where am I?” I asked quietly, to no one in particular.
“The in-between,” came a silky voice.
Turning sharply, I saw a stranger seated upon a throne of black and gold. He sat with his legs elegantly crossed, hands clasped neatly atop one knee. His features were striking—tall, lean, with wavy black hair combed into a perfect pompadour. His skin held a warm, golden-bronze glow, exuding an aura that made me pause. He was divine. The truth of it was in his obsidian eyes, the void of death.
Anam.
“Though some call it the veil,” he added.
I had heard stories and seen depictions of the beauty of gods. But they paled in comparison to reality. Anam was stoic, radiating power and a sense of peace. The kind of peace I had felt only moments prior, when I thought I had closed my eyes for the last time.
“Am I dead?” The moment the words left my lips, embarrassment washed over me. If I were with Anam, the conclusion should have been obvious.
“Yes—and no,” he said while studying me, eyes glittering with intrigue.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your mortal body has ceased to sustain life, yet your soul remains here temporarily.” Anam tilted his head slightly, considering me as if I were a fascinating puzzle.
“I don’t understand.”
I didn’t feel dead, but I could also recognize that something was different. The feeling of sickness I had was gone. I felt neutral.
“I suppose you wouldn’t.” Anam’s eyes glinted as they shifted to just over my shoulder.
The sound of wind rustling and gentle footsteps approaching caught my attention. A voice, achingly familiar yet untouched by time, spoke faintly from the shadows. “You always were stubborn, Mavis.”
I froze at the sound of a voice I never thought I would hear again. Tentatively, I turned around, my eyes rimmed with ghostly tears.
“Willam?” I whispered, hardly daring to believe the sight before me.
He stood there, preserved exactly as I remembered him—thirteen, eyes full of warmth, dark hair tousled as if by an unseen breeze. A small, delicate smile curved his lips as he regarded me fondly.
“Mavis.” He stepped forward cautiously, as if he were afraid to spook me. His body may have been thirteen, but his presence was much older. “I’ve missed you.”
My knees weakened, and tears spilled unchecked down my cheeks. “I never stopped looking for you. All these years… I hoped you were alive, that someday we’d find each other.”
His eyes eased further, sorrow blending with tenderness.
“I know, but I wasn’t meant to make it. When the Veilers took me, I knew I wouldn’t see you again, but I didn't want to leave you. I prayed to Our Lady—not to save myself—but to save you.”
Anam’s voice came softly from behind us, respectful of our reunion. “My sister granted your brother’s wish, tethering his spirit to yours, allowing him to watch over you, and protect you until your journey reached this moment.”
Realization washed over me. The comforting voice so similar to my own, the shivers—it had always been Willam. “The voice I heard… that was you?”
“I didn’t want you to feel so alone. However, exposing my presence outright could have altered your future, so I stayed hidden—secretly guiding you on your path. I’m sorry it was one of loss and bloodshed, but you were strong.”
“That’s not true.” I frowned, remembering every moment of weakness I had.
