I kept my steps steady beside him, matching his slow, uneven pace. His boots left shallow, dragged-out prints in the damp sand, as if I needed a reminder of how close we still were to losing him. The wind caught his dark hair, tossing the white strands across his face, but it couldn’t hide how pale he still was.
He moved like someone who’d gripped Death’s hand and hadn’t fully let go.
“Alastor . . .” I faltered. His name came out rough, too full of everything I didn’t know how to say.
He stopped, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. “Don’t ask.” His shadows slithered ahead of us, restless and mirroring the tremor in his body. Even they seemed weaker. “You already know the answer, and I don’t want to have to lie to you.”
I swallowed down the instinct to push, to demand answers he wasn’t prepared to give.
“Yeah.” It came out rough. “I know.”
The wind pulled on the hem of my shirt, carrying the scent of salt and something foreign that clung to Alastor. I didn’t need him to say it aloud. Through Finley’s magic, through whatever now tied me to the astral realm, I felt it sitting beneath his skin. Death hadn’t fully let him go.
“You’re still here, though,” I said quietly. “We have that. You don’t have to tell me anything, but know I’m here, whatever you need.”
His eyes, several shades lighter than his usual gray, held mine. “You won’t tell Teddy?”
I didn’t like keeping things from her, but this wasn’t mine to give away. “I won’t.” I licked my dry lips. “Do you know how much time you have?”
His gaze fell to the water, to where the waves reached and retreated. “Months,” he said. Then softer, “Maybe a little over a year.”
The words landed like stones against my chest.
“Is that what Eiran wanted to speak to you about when he pulled you aside?” That had been a week ago, and only now did I question it.
His jaw ticked, and something flashed behind his eyes. Remorse, maybe. “Along those lines.”
I reached out and gripped his shoulder. Not a question or demand, but a reminder I was there. His shadows faltered for half a beat, quivering against the sand as if they didn’t know whether to recoil or lean in.
“Is it because of me?” I asked, voice quivering. “I felt something rise just before you fainted.” Where I once believed it’d been Finley’s magic, I’d become more familiar with it and knew better. She was right. It hadn’t been her magic. It hadn’t been mine either.
Alastor stilled, his throat working around words he left unsaid. Like they were fighting their way, burning until he said, “It started a little over a year ago when we were hunting down the human compounds. At first, it was just the headaches. Annoying but manageable.” His mouth twisted, his features caught somewhere between bitterness and exhaustion. “I’d have these dreams about a woman. Beautiful in a way that didn’t make sense. She’d appear for only a few beats.” He dragged in a slow breath, his shadows shifting at his feet. “But every few nights, she’d stay longer. Just watching me. The longer she stayed, the worse it got. Like her hands were braced against my skull, reaching but not enough.” He lifted his hand to his head, like he was holding on to that memory. “These last few months, it’s been every night. I talk to her now. She’s—” He shakes his head. “I know what these dreams are doing to me. I’m not stupid. But it’s the only place I don’t feel like I’m rotting from the inside.”
My grip on his shoulder tightened.
“You didn’t strike me down, Brenton,” he said, his words earnest. “I pushed myself too hard in training you and Finley. My body had demanded I rest long before I fainted. Whatever you felt rise is the part that links you to the astral realm.”
Just as I opened my mouth to question him, he continued.
He didn’t look at me when he quietly said, “I’m happy for you.”
Caught off guard, I frowned. “What?”
He finally looked up, his eyes somehow dimmer. There was something soft in them, something that didn’t belong to the sharp, dangerous mage he showed everyone else. “You and Finley,” he finally said. “Joy looks good on you, Brenton.”
A slow, reluctant grin pulled at the corner of my mouth, and although I didn’t feel the tease, I said, “I didn’t realize you saw me like that.” I added a wink for emphasis.
It earned me a quiet, surprised huff of laughter.
The sound settled between us before the weight crept back in.
Alastor glanced down at his restless shadows, then out toward the horizon where the sun slowly set.
“I’ve had a lot of time to think this over,” he said, voice stronger as if he hadn’t shown me the tiniest crack in his composure. “We know what happens to lands when leadership dies without warning. I won’t leave Tera Insaldame or Respandora like that.”
I stiffened. “Alastor?—”
“Don’t.” He snapped the single word.
