Her soul.
Piece by piece, it was carved from her memories, her voice, her light. And even then, Eiren still killed her. Smiling, cruel, victorious.
She woke with the image still burned behind her eyes, her body broken, Kael and Alarik both screaming her name through blood and shadow.
That was why she’d gone to Kael’s chambers. Why she’d kissed him. Why she’d needed to feel something real — before everything fractures.
The gray light of morning crept across the stone floor, as she lay with her head on Kael’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. She whispered words into the silence she hadn’t dared speak aloud.
“I don’t know who I’ll be after tomorrow.”
Her voice was small, not meant to wake him. But it felt holy to name the fear curled in her ribs like a living thing.
“I might lose part of myself. Or one of you. Or all of it.”
Kael stirred slightly but didn’t wake.
“I love you,” she breathed. “And I love him. And maybe I’m foolish for saying that now. But I don’t think I’m meant to have a clean ending. I just… “
A tear slid down her temple, catching in the curve of Kael’s collarbone.
“I’m tired of being at fate's whim.”
The words settled like dust.
She didn’t know if her soul would remain whole. But she had chosen to love. Freely. Fiercely. Without regret.
-Alarik-
The war table was covered in chaos.
Scrolls unfurled. Pins scattered across maps like blood drops. Numbers circled and recalculated in margins. Red ink marked confirmed veilspawn clusters. Black indicated disappearances. Entire villages, gone. Coastal outposts dark. The sword had been retrieved, but the cost had already begun to tally.
Alarik stood alone, brow furrowed, a quill clutched loosely in one hand as he adjusted formation routes. His generals would arrive soon, and Kael. Alarik still bristled at the thought of needing him at his flank. But what choice did they have?
They were four kingdoms under siege by something not of this world.
He was mid-step toward the far corner of the map when the doors cracked open, revealing Maris.
She stood there in a simple gown, hair damp and tousled, cheeks flushed as if she’d run. Her eyes locked on his wildly. Fierce. Desperate.
His breath caught. “What’s wrong?”
She crossed the chamber with hurried steps, the torchlight casting gold along her skin, and something in her gaze hit him like a blade to the ribs.
“I don’t want to wait,” she said, her voice low and steady. “I don’t want to die tomorrow never having touched you beyond a dream.”
Alarik blinked, stunned into silence.
“I love you,” she said. “I don’t know what it means beyond today, or if it even matters when gods are bleeding into our world. But I want this. You. I want to while we still can.”
The map, the plans, the war, all of it dropped away.
Only she remained.
A trembling inhale, a desperate exhale. He took one step forward, then another, until she was right there in his arms. His hands trembled as they lifted to her face. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
