Page 128 of The Vespertine Treaty

Iwoke slowly, drifting up from the depths of a sleep so heavy it felt like a spell. My body was a map of ache and pleasure—a beautiful, throbbing soreness that lived in my thighs, my bruised lips, and the sensitive skin of my breasts where the wax had hardened and peeled away.

I stretched, a low, contented hum vibrating in my throat. The scent of him—pomegranate, brandy, and sex—was soaked into the pillows, into the sheets, into my very pores. I reached out blindly, my hand sweeping across the mattress, expecting to find the hard, warm wall of his chest.

I found only cold silk.

My eyes snapped open. The space beside me was empty. The pillow was uncreased, as if he hadn't slept at all. There was no note on the nightstand, only the burnt-down stub of the black candle we had used.

Disappointment, sharp and sudden, pierced the hazy glow of the morning. I sat up, pulling the sheet against my chest.

He is busy,I told myself, pushing down the sting of abandonment.He is the insufferable Prince of Death. He probably had to manage the fallout of... whatever happens when a male like him finally loses control.

Needing something to ground me, something to prove that last night wasn't a fever dream, I reached for the nightstand. My fingers brushed against the worn leather cover of the book he had left.

The Cenitus Lex—but wrapped inside was his mother’s journal. The book he had let me read.

I pulled it into my lap, tracing the gold-leaf title. As I did, my thumb caught on a ridge inside the back cover. The leather lining was old, peeling slightly at the corner.

I frowned. There was something underneath.

With a strange, trembling urgency, I picked at the seam. The leather gave way, revealing a folded piece of parchment, yellowed with age, pressed flat against the binding.

I unfolded it. The handwriting was elegant, looping, and hurried.

My dearest Cain,

If you are reading this, you have survived your father’s cruelty long enough to become a male. I do not have much time—the visions are getting stronger, and I fear my next labour will be my last.

Your father sees only darkness in you. He sees a weapon. He believes the Void in your blood will one day swallow the world, and he intends to teach you to fearany light that might challenge it. He will tell you that a Life Heir is your enemy.

He is wrong.

I have seen the truth, my sweet boy. The Void is a hunger that cannot be filled, only balanced. You are not destined to destroy the world, but you are walking a knife's edge. Without an anchor, the silence will eventually take you.

The Life Heir is not your doom. She is your salvation.

Only a creature of pure Life can withstand the gravity of your soul. She is the only one who can handle your pain. But you must let her in before the madness takes root completely. If you find her, do not deny her. Let her love you. It is the only thing that will keep the monsters at bay.

Love,

Mother

The letter slipped from my numb fingers, fluttering to the quilt like a dove landing.

A slow, trembling smile stretched across my lips, chasing away the shadows of the morning.

"Oh, Cain," I breathed, the realisation blooming in my chest like a flower opening to the sun at last after the longest winter.

He didn't know. All this time, he had been fighting a war against his own heart, believing his father’s lie. He believed I was the catalyst for his destruction, the trigger for the apocalypse.

But he was wrong. We weren't the end of the world. We really were the balance.

"We are meant to be," I whispered to the empty room, a fierce, giddy hope taking root in my soul.

The prophecy wasn't a curse; it was a promise. I wasn't his weakness; I truly was his anchor. He didn't have to fear the madness anymore. He didn't have to fearus.

I scrambled out of bed, clutching the parchment to my chest. I had to find him. I had to show him this. I had to tell the most powerful, terrified male in the world that he was finally, truly free to love me.

I slid out of bed, wincing slightly as my muscles protested, and grabbed his black silk robe from the floor. It engulfed me, smelling of him, and I cinched the belt tight.