Epilogue
KAIROTH, TWO YEARS LATER
I watched from the window of our farmhouse as Bellamy sat in the garden, planting seeds. The ocean washed up on the black-sand shores in the distance, the skies blue, not a cloud to be seen.
Bellamy stood, the curve of her round belly just barely visible underneath her dress. If you didn’t know to look for it, you wouldn’t notice. But I noticed everything about my wife.
She’d be showing soon enough, and then maybe, we’d tell everyone. Or we’d keep this secret to ourselves just a little longer.
I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve this life, but I would cherish it for as long as I lived.
Bellamy glanced in my direction, catching me staring at her through the window. A smile curved her lips and she gestured for me. I tipped my head and walked out the front door, joining her in the garden she’d planted as soon as we’d started rebuilding this farmhouse.
Peppers, okra, and potatoes grew in abundance, and behind her, rows of corn stalks popped up from the ground.
“You summoned me?” I asked as I approached her.
She wore a bandana around her head, her wild black hair sprouting from it. She still wore that same red dress she’d been wearing when we first met. Except now it was her gardening dress, smattered in dirt and soil.
“I wanted to show you something,” she said, eyes twinkling as she grabbed my hand.
Her hand was rough in mine. Her hands had never fully recovered after all those briars she’d harvested. When the gods were destroyed, so was whatever immortality Bellamy had gotten from her mother. Her hands didn’t recover like they would have if she’d maintained that immortal power. Scars and puckered skin twisted around her fingers and palms. She grimaced every time she saw her disfigured hands, but I loved them. They were a reminder that my wife was the bravest woman I knew.
She led me past the corn stalks, then past our banana and coconut trees. Our little farmhouse sat at the edge of a cliff, a winding path leading around the cliff to other houses that had been built in the last few years as the shadow court slowly repopulated.
It turned out Bellamy’s brothers had shadow magic as well as star magic, something about their father’s immortality defying the hereditary laws of magic, where mothers passed down the magic their children would receive. Bellamy also had shadow magic, but she rarely used it, preferring her star magic.
Ryder had done a good job bringing mortals here, and the magic responded like Bellamy thought it would, granting those who came with shadow magic.
We walked along the dusty path, the sparkling turquoise water glinting down below, its white crests crashing against the cliffside.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” she said.
In the distance, a bench sat on a grassy patch on the cliff. It was far enough away from the edge that it wouldn’t feel like you were about to topple over, but close enough you could enjoy the view. We arrived at the bench, and Bellamy sat, then patted the spot next to her.
I dropped down beside her. “What is this?”
“It’s ours.” She shrugged. “Well, it’s everyone’s. One of the first conversations we ever had, you told me about a bench where you used to sit with your father, where you would talk, spend time together, watch the beautiful sunrises and sunsets.” She patted her belly. “I want our son to have the same experience with you.”
“Our son?” I asked.
“I have a feeling,” she said.
I looked down at the bench, ran my hand over the solid wood, smooth under my hand. “You did all this?”
“Well, Soloman helped,” she said. “He’s coming for dinner, by the way.”
He came for dinner a lot. I didn’t mind. All her brothers were thriving—except Soloman, who often seemed lost in this world, like he didn’t know where he belonged. His wing didn’t help, and he often got stared at, which made him retreat even more. He lived in the jungle, even though we’d offered to let him stay with us. He felt more comfortable in the wild, so we let him be, but Bellamy insisted he come for dinner once a week.
“I love it,” I said. “You always have this way of reminding me of my humanity. Of all the little things that I never want to take for granted.” I patted the bench. “Like this. Sitting here with you.”
She snuggled into me. “You are human,” she reminded me. “Very, very human.”
I sighed. I was, but that didn’t change the thousands of years that I wasn’t. The memories of all the horrible things I’d done. Things I was still trying to make up for. Bellamy said I’d helped save the world, that I’d been willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good. She thought that should be enough. But it wasn’t. It would never be. I was working with Ryder on initiatives I could take, things I could do to help those who came to the island. Build houses, help others start their own gardens or farming. Teach them how to hunt in the jungle.
I’d spend the rest of my life making up for my past. But instead of succumbing to the monster, now I was shedding it and moving forward. I looked at my wife. Because of her.
She smiled at me. “Are you happy?” She gestured. “This is a simple life. We garden. We sell our goods. It’s not the glamorous life you once led with your lavish temples and mortals who worshipped you.”
“Out of fear,” I reminded her.
I pressed a kiss to her head. “This is everything I always wanted. I just didn’t realize it until I met you. I was so focused on my goal of finding a way to get rid of the gods that I never thought about a future for myself. I never imagined I could have one. But if I had let myself imagine it, I don’t think I could have dreamed this up.”
“Me either,” she said as she snuggled further into me.
We sat in silence as the sun sank over the horizon, then we stood and made our way back to the farmhouse. To our home.
***