Chapter 34
Lanston
The world seems darkerwithout my friends from Harlow. But I keep their words knitted in my heart. Hope surrounds me. The letters Ophelia wrote for me are tucked in my bag and the bucket list we didn’t finish remains folded in my pocket.
I look up at the cathedral, where I hope to find Gregory. It’s in a small village outside Dublin. There isn’t even a sign for it, but the town is busy with people herding sheep and gathering vegetables for their suppers.
The stones pillaring the stairs up to the arched doors are like ice on my fingertips. I step carefully, keeping an eye out for the phantom. Even though finding this guy didn’t top my list of things I wanted to do, I knew it was important to Ophelia. And that makes it important to me.
I didn’t just stumble upon his grave by chance. This is a sign. Well, I guess if you believe in those sorts of things. I’m starting to.
As I enter the cathedral the air becomes sweet and warm. The scent of burning candles and old pews fills my senses. Elderly people sit and pray, while others walk through the building, observing the historic structure with awe on their faces.
My eyes lift to the balcony above, and I spot a phantom. He wears a long cloak that reaches down to his feet. It’s a drab and muddled burgundy color. His skin is as pale as a dead man’s. Dark eyes stare down at me. For a moment, I think I’ll turn and run, but I dig my heels into the ground and swallow my fears. If Ophelia were here, she’d say not to judge him by his frightening appearance, just like the faceless phantom.
I find the spiral staircase that leads up and I trail my fingers along the stone as I ascend to the balcony.
“Who are you?” he asks, his voice deep and sharp.
He’s young, from a different time. It’s almost like I’m in one of those old Victorian movies.
I clear my throat. “Lanston Nevers.”
He inspects me from head to toe with a disapproving look. “A tourist, I presume?” I nod with a hesitant smile, trying my best to remain cordial. “I am Gregory Briggs,” he says with a heavy accent.
My grin grows wide. I found him, and if I can find someone this old, there isn’t a universe in which I cannot find my Ophelia.
“Gregory, I’ve been searching for you. Your Elanor, she waits.”
His eyes widen and he seems to come to life at the mention of her. Those dark eyes are no longer so black; they lift into a light brown. His skin regains some pink and his clothes a bright maroon.
“Elanor? My darling Elanor?” The desperation and pain in his voice sting me. His love for her is palpable. And here he waited for her—as she did him.
Refusing to leave this world without the other.
“Yeah, I’ll take you to her.”
Gregory smiles as tears brim in his eyes and he nods.
We walk slowly through the countryside, in hours of silence. By the time we make it back to the city, night has fallen and the lights of pubs and shops illuminate the way.
I take him to St. Patrick’s cathedral, where the hush of the evening feels ominous and lovely at the same time. Gregory looks at me, yearning in his eyes.
“She’s inside,” I say quietly.
He practically runs to the doors and through the silent corridors. I follow slowly, remaining far behind so they can have a moment to themselves. Like a true phantom, I spectate, lingering and admiring their love from afar.
I crest the top of the stairs in time to see them standing five feet apart. They seem stunned by the moment. I was expecting to see Elanor’s haunting face again, but her features have returned. Soft skin, blue eyes, and red curly hair that drops down to her mid-back. Her smile is that of an angel.
“Gregory,” she says as tears fall.
He closes the distance between them in a few big steps and scoops her into his arms. “My Ellie. Here you are.” Gregory twirls with her in his arms. Their foreheads are pressed together with heartache, anguish, and love.
“I’ve waited lifetimes for you, my love. You are just as you were.” Elanor kisses him, and together, they laugh.
Something deep in my chest settles with their union. Love never truly dies. Time cannot steal everything away from us. Not this. Not the soft kisses and whispers in the dusk of the world. Not the ache that nestles inside our chests and blooms when our eyes catch. Love, in its purest form—our ghosts.
Elanor notices me leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor and smiles brightly at me. Then, the smile quickly fades.
“Where is the woman who accompanied you?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from getting emotional. “I seem to have lost her as you lost your Gregory.” My voice breaks.
Her eyes soften and she walks toward me.
“Even then, you kept her promise to me?” Elanor asks sadly, thoughtfully. “I’ll give you this, young ghost.” I raise my eyes to hers as she extends her hand out to mine. I expose my palm to her and she drops a small stone into the center of my hand. It’s black and smooth… it looks familiar, but I can’t place it.
“What is it?”
Elanor smiles. “It is onyx. A symbol of strength and hope. May you find her.”
Liam used to have tons of these. My hand closes over the stone. “Thank you.”
The two phantoms meet in the dark halls of the cathedral, their hands enveloping each other. Together, they walk toward something I cannot see. Then, just as Yelina and Jericho had, they disappear, leaving behind traces of gilded dust.
I may be the only phantom left here on the darkest of nights, but my soul has never emanated so much hope.
Clutching the stone, I whisper, “I’m not afraid of your darkness, Ophelia. We are the light.”