He threw open the doors to their bedroom where Corabeth lay, hair now silver-white, and stumbled towards the bed. His knees buckled as he collapsed beside her, her name the last thing on his lips. With Corabeth’s hand in his, and a lifetime of happiness between them, time finally caught up to him.
Rooke’s body withered into dust.
All around them, the manor crumbled. Cracks ran across walls and ceilings like lightning strikes.
Outside, for the first time in centuries, the mist began to burn away.
A hundred ravens called out at once.
They were the only witnesses to two souls reuniting. One belonging to a woman with midnight black hair, the other to a man with gentle features now returned to him. The spectral images of who they had been in life. For a brief moment or an eternity, they simply looked at each other—time no longer existed to them. Then, they joined hands and walked into the last of the lingering mist.
A final gust of wind, and they were gone.
Thus was the story of Corabeth and Rooke.
The End.
