“No.” Zara pulled her close. “We won’t. And I hate that. But Ramona, breaking this curse is more important than keeping me here. You deserve to have your magic work properly. You deserve to know who you really are without that weight.”
“I don’t care about the curse if it means losing you.”
“Yes, you do.” Zara’s voice was gentle but firm. “You care. You’ve been carrying this for twenty-seven years. This is your chance to be free. To have the life that was stolen from you.”
“What good is freedom if you’re not here?”
“It’s still freedom.” Zara pressed their foreheads together. “It’s all I want for you.”
Music started playing.
Both of them turned toward the sound. Somewhere below, a few apartments over, someone had opened their window. Soft music drifted out — something old, jazzy, the kind of music that made Ramona think of dance halls and romance and a different era entirely.
Zara stood, held out her hand. “Dance with me.”
“Zara—”
“Please.” Zara’s smile was sad. “We might not get another chance. Dance with me.”
Ramona took her hand.
Zara pulled her up. Wrapped an arm around her waist. Drew her close until they were swaying together on the narrow metal grating, the city spread out below them, the music floating up from the neighbor’s window.
It wasn’t graceful. The fire escape wasn’t meant for dancing. They had maybe three feet of space, but Zara led with confident ease, spinning Ramona carefully, catching her, pulling her back close.
“I didn’t know you could dance,” Ramona said, her voice thick.
“Three hundred years,” Zara replied. “You pick up skills.”
They swayed together. The music was soft, melancholy, beautiful. Ramona rested her head on Zara’s shoulder. Let herself be held. Let herself memorize this — the warmth of Zara’s body, the steady rhythm of their movement, the music wrapping around them like something precious.
Something they might never have again.
“I’ll always be thankful for what you’ve given me,” Zara said quietly.
Ramona lifted her head. “What have I given you?”
“This.” Zara gestured vaguely. “Life. Purpose. A reason to be more than just a cog in Hell’s bureaucracy.” She paused. “Hope. I’ve always wondered what that felt like.”
“I summoned you by accident and made your life complicated.”
“You summoned me by accident and made my life worth living.” Zara spun her again, gentle, careful. “I was going through motions. Centuries of the same tasks, the same routines, the same endless nothing. And then you yanked me out of that. Made me find out what it feels like to be surprised. To laugh. To care about someone.”
“And now I’m sending you back to that nothing.” Ramona’s voice broke.
“No.” Zara stopped moving. Held Ramona’s face in both hands. “You’re not sending me back to nothing. Because I’m different now. You changed me. And that doesn’t go away just because I’m in Hell instead of here.”
“But you’ll be alone again.”
“But I’ll always have this. This moment.” Zara’s eyes were intense. “That’s not nothing, Ramona. That’s everything.”
The music swelled. Ramona let Zara lead her in slow circles, their feet quiet on the metal grating.
“What if we never see each other again?” Ramona asked, tears streaming down her cheeks in earnest now. “What if Hell won’t let you? What if — what if you’re stuck there forever?”
“Then I’ll still be glad I had this.” Zara pulled her close again. Started swaying. “These weeks with you. These moments. This feeling. I’d rather have had this and lost it than never have had it at all.”
“That’s not enough for me.” Ramona’s tears flowed freely. “I don’t want moments. I wantyou. Every day. I want to wake up next to you. I want?—”
