Morden approached, and I could see the weight of grief bowing his shoulders. “Daughter.”
The word settled over me, strange and familiar at once. We'd both lost so much—him a son, me the father who'd raised me. Maybe grief could be the bridge between us, a place to start knowing each other.
I pulled away from Enzo and hugged Morden tight. “Father.” Not Dad—that would always be Louis DuPont, the man who raised me. But Morden was my father too, and I wanted to know him. Wanted to heal the years of separation between us.
His arms tightened around me. “I wish you’d had the chance to meet Nyx.”
“So do I,” I whispered.
He released me reluctantly and shook Enzo’s hand. “Enzo.”
“Morden. Your son was brave. He died protecting me.”
I heard the heaviness in Enzo’s voice, saw his jaw tighten. Guilt. It was written all over him—in the rigid set of his shoulders, the careful control of his words. He blamed himself.
I slipped my hand to the small of his back, a quiet reassurance. It wasn’t his fault. It was Ari’s and Marsha’s for turning Gunner.
Morden’s face crumpled for just a moment before he wrestled his emotions back under control. But I’d seen it—the devastating love of a father burying his child. Tears blurred my vision.
He motioned with his arm. “This way.”
Enzo and I held hands as we followed him. The grass was damp beneath my feet, and I could hear the rustle of wind through the trees overhead. Funerals were always hard for me—my mother's when I was a little girl, the finality of goodbye, knowing I'd never see her again. I expected we'd be heading into a building, some funeral home chapel, but as we walked deeper into the grounds, I realized I was wrong.
No chairs had been set up—this was a standing vigil. In the center of the expansive yard, a man with long blond hair lay on a white altar, hands folded peacefully across his chest.
Keir Rankin stood at the head of the altar in ceremonial purple robes, a crown of white flowers woven through his hair.
Morden guided me forward. My throat constricted as I looked down at Nyx for the first time. My brother. He was young, handsome, with Morden’s strong features. But his skin was deathly pale, drained of all color and warmth. His purple robe was intricately embroidered with animals—wolves, birds, even harpies.
My hand shook as I reached out to touch his cold fingers. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for saving him.” He’d died protecting Enzo, and I would carry that debt for the rest of my life.
Steve moved beside me, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. I turned into him, needing his strength as grief overwhelmed me. He'd never met Nyx, never known this brother of mine existed until recently, but he was here—steady and solid when I needed him most.
Two harpies landed near the altar, their black wings folding with surprising grace. I stared, unable to look away from the disturbing fusion of woman and eagle—human faces with flowing black hair atop massive feathered bodies, talons scraping against stone. Beautiful and horrifying all at once.
“The ceremony is about to begin,” Keir announced, spreading his arms wide.
Morden, Enzo, Steve, and I stepped back from the altar and joined the circle of mourners surrounding Keir and Nyx.
Keir dropped his arms, his voice resonating with dark authority. “We honor one of our own. Nyx was a warrior who walked between worlds—speaking to beasts as easily as men, commanding their loyalty with a gift few are granted.”
That incredible ability, and I’d never see it. Never know him. The ache in my chest grew sharper.
His hand swept toward the harpies. “When these two were cast out, abandoned by their kind, Nyx took them in. He made outcasts into family, gave them a place in our ranks.”
The harpies lowered their heads in reverence, and I caught the sound of one quietly weeping. Such fierce, deadly creatures—yet they mourned my brother like family.
Keir bent and retrieved an urn, its surface etched with ancient symbols. He reached inside and drew out a handful of gold dust, letting it fall over Nyx’s still form. The dust shimmered as it settled on the purple robe. “May the stars of the universe guide your spirit home. May our ancestors welcome you to the eternal halls.”
Tears streamed down my face unchecked. The gold made him look like he was made of starlight—beautiful and unreachable. Gone before I ever had a chance to know him. Before I could tell him thank you. Before I could tell him I was sorry he’d paid the price for my choices.
Enzo squeezed my hand gently. I held on tight.
Keir stepped back. The harpies approached the altar with solemn grace and spread their wings wide, eclipsing Nyx from view.
“Join our fathers,” Keir said softly.
When the harpies drew back their wings, Nyx's body had disappeared. My heart stuttered and I gasped. Gone. Just...gone. The finality of it hit me—there was nothing left, no trace of him at all except for gold and purple dust spiraling upward in a shimmering whirlwind, sparkling in the sunlight.
Then the column of light shifted. Instead of continuing skyward, it drifted toward us—floating across the circle to where Morden and I stood. The warm dust brushed against my face, impossibly gentle, like fingertips tracing my cheek. A touch. A recognition.
Brother.
Beside me, Morden coughed and cleared his throat as the whirlwind caressed his face. His shoulders shook with silentsobs, one hand reaching toward the swirling magic as if he could hold onto his son for just one more moment.
But the dust pulled away, rising up and up into the endless sky until nothing remained but memory and grief.
I pressed my hand to my cheek where his magic had touched me. My only connection to the brother I’d lost before I ever found him.
I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I turned to Enzo, tears pouring down my face, and threw my arms around his neck. He caught me immediately, holding me as I finally let myself break. Nyx had died for him—for us—and now he was gone forever.
