Her voice so achingly hopeful when she told me we'd one day have a daughter. She’d believed, and because she could, I’d started to believe too.
Was she pregnant now? That question gutted me. I didn’t know the answer. I’d never know if she didn’t open her eyes.
I choked out one breath after another, breathing for us both, rocking her in my arms.
Her hand twitched, grazing my chest. Like she was trying to drag herself away from the fates to reassure me one last time.
That one twitch meant more than any promise ever spoken. She’d always reached for me. Even when she was furious and even when she couldn't speak, her soul knew mine. Was this her fighting to stay? Or was this her goodbye, spoken so softly it would break me with one blow?
Her head lolled, her lips moving, but no sound coming out. Her pulse barely ticked under my fingers.
I looked toward where Prager had fallen, tried to see through the smear of tears. Her body lay still. Slumped. Blood spread out beneath her like a second gown. Dorion hadn't moved. He’d remained where he'd made his last strike, watching her, his arms half-raised to strike if she rose again.
Farris paced near Reyla’s feet, sniffing, pawing at her boots as if some instinct told him it wasn’t over.
My elemental magic still clung to the air, threads of scorched metal and wind spinning clouds of ash and cracked earth. I let it go with a whoosh.
I cradled Reyla closer, gently. If I held her wrong, I might break her more than she already was. Her blood soaked into my shirt. Hot. Too hot. I didn’t know if it was pain or panic thundering behind my eyes.
I bent forward to speak in her ear. “You stay with me, Wildfire. Do you hear me? Don’t leave me. Not now. Evermore, Wildfire. We’re supposed to have evermore. I love you. Please.”
She didn’t answer.
I always thought there would be time. More nights. More stolen escapes. She was the rhythm that steadied me, the reason I could stand in a storm and not drown.
Now she was here in my arms, all of that slipping away.
Her hand twitched against my chest again. A thread. A flicker. It shattered me.
I saw her leaning against the ship’s railing, sea wind twisting through her hair. I hadn’t said a word, just watched her. She’d smiled, full of some secret that was only half-mine.
“I can fix this,” I cried out, sending more healing magic into her, though it didn’t seem to be making a difference. Part of Prager’s spell or what the labyrinth had claimed as its due? Well, damn her, damn the labyrinth.
Damn me for not doing enough.
What good was magic if it couldn’t keep her breathing?
“I love you, Reyla. Please.” If her soul hovered in the in-between, I begged it to look back. To see me wrecked and undone and choosing her through the ruin. Whoever guarded the veil, the gods, fates, or the ancients, I didn’t care. Let them see me now, on my knees, offering every piece of myself as payment for whatever debt she had due.
“I’ll find a way,” I swore into her hair. “Even if I have to climb into the underworld and drag you back with my bare hands.”
I bowed my head and screamed.
Grief like this shattered everything. It didn’t feel survivable.
If I could trade it all, my name, my power, and every thread of legacy, I would. Just bring her back.
“I need you,” I rasped. “So much, Wildfire.”
Maybe that was Reyla's secret. She’d known we wouldn’t have evermore, and she’d still chosen to love me. Hard, fast, and without restraint. She’d burned herself down so I could rise.
I would give her anything, but I’d never believed I was enough to be the one thing she chose to keep.
“Fuck the world for taking you.”
The night stretched quiet and endless around me.
My arms ached from holding her.
