Silence greeted her.
Dashing to each window of the circular walls, she leaned through, looking for a shape or shadow on the ramparts around the upper tower.
At the fourth window, she saw it—a dark body sprawled along the thin ledge.
“Aden!” she cried, climbing through the slit-like window.
The mass of fur did not respond as she sank next to it. She reached out, searching for his face. His fur was still warm, but the shaft of a spear lay beneath his motionless body.
She leaned over him, careful not to disturb him, afraid of upsetting any wound she could not see.
A faint hiss greeted her ears as the massive beast exhaled.
“Aden,” she cried, tears of relief mixed with tears of sadness falling from her eyes. “Do not leave me,” she begged. “I’m here. I came back for you. Don’t leave me now!”
“Isabel,” he said, the word barely more than a breath. His eyes remained closed.
“Aden, Aden. Aden!” She brought her hands to his face, stroking his fur through her tears. “It’s too soon. This is not goodbye. You lied to me—you said it was not the eve of battle. You were wrong. You cannot leave me now, not like this.”
“Your father?” he asked.
“He’s safe. Safe and well, getting stronger every day.”
“Good,” Aden said, his voice devolving into a wheezing cough.
“I’m here. I’m here,” she sobbed. “The curse can be broken.” She spoke the words with a confidence she did not feel.
His breathing was slow and labored. “No. It’s too late,” he whispered. Lifting his hand from the ground, he brought it to his chest. He was grasping a long stick.
She took the object from his hand, confused until she felt the poke of a thorn against her finger. It was the stem of the rose. The petals were gone. All of them.
“Go,” Aden said, his voice no more than a whisper. “I’m not safe. I can already feel my mind slipping.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she replied. “I won’t abandon you to face the chaos alone. If the magic of harmony truly exists, then I will be here, carrying your burden when it is too much to bear alone. I would offer more if I could.”
“This is no time to play hero.” He attempted to raise his voice, but it was mostly a breathy whisper. He gasped for air, lifting his head from the stone rampart as his eyes frantically searched for her own. “I can feel my consciousness slipping away. You cannot be here when it does. I will not be responsible for hurting you.”
“Nonsense,” Isa replied. “You would never hurt me. Rest now.” She pressed her hand against his forehead, forcing his head back to relax against the stone masonry. She was not afraid. But it was not from bravery or courage; it was from despair. He was weak from his wound, and she could feel blood—not mud—seeping out onto the stones around him. He would not last long enough for the curse to take effect. “Save your energy. We will make it through this. I’m not being a hero. I’m just loving you. Remember what we dreamed? I want all of it. I want it to be real. I want your future, as messy as it might be. I want to live to be happy and old, together. Rest, rest and dream of what could be.”
His head thrashed back. “Isabel, you must leave me—I can feel it taking over me. The curse, the chaos. It’s too much. I can’t fight it.”
“Aden,” she said, trying to reach through the pain that had taken a hold on his mind. “Aden, stay with me. Don’t leave me.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
She leaned over him, using the weight of her body to hold his head still. “Shhhh, rest. Be at peace. You are stronger than any chaos.”
She leaned over him, her fingers stroking the fur between his eyes, brushing it upward.
He stilled, his body losing its tension, whether relaxing at her touch or merely having spent its energy, she could not tell.
“I love you, my dearest Aden,” she whispered, dropping her head to kiss the spot of fur between his eyes. “I love you now and I always will.” She dropped her forehead to his as tears dripped down her nose onto his upturned face. Her mother’s words were beginning to make sense. Even if their story ended here, she would always treasure the moments they had shared.
She felt the moment that the last breath left his nostrils. It left his body without a sound, warming her cheek briefly before leaving her alone in the cold of the night. No other warming breath followed.
“Goodbye, my love,” she sobbed, not willing to believe that he was gone. “Be at peace.”
Grasping the fur at the sides of his head, she let her body sink onto his, sobbing out the fear she had kept at bay while trying to remain strong for him.
A tremor ran through the lifeless body below her.
