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But later, when the hall has emptied and the Great Flame burns low, I stand alone on one of Ashfell’s outer battlements, wings spread wide, Gemini moonlight washing over black feathers.
I stare out toward the distant horizon, where worlds blur and realms bleed into one another, and I make a quiet vow the earth itself bears witness to:
I will not let Idris unmake what we have bled to protect.
And if, along the way, there is a mortal somewhere in that noisy, stubborn place called New Jersey whose soul calls to mine—then may the Fates be ready.
Because when I find her, I will not let go.
* * *
The end… for now.
