Chapter 12
Von
“D id you get it?” Ezra asked, her cane tapping against the kitchen floor as she walked over to me, her curved shoulders ticking from side to side, emphasizing the weakness in her bones.
Ezra was a peculiar immortal; why she chose to age and die and be reborn from the soil, when she could live for eternity in her prime, was beyond me.
Then again, a lot of things Ezra did were beyond me. Beyond us all.
“I did,” I answered as I produced a small glass vial. In it, tears—provided from the Lost Soul. “Are you sure this will be enough?”
Ezra snatched the vial. She brought it to her ear, silent for a moment before she grinned and said, “Yes, this will be enough.”
“What will they do?” I inquired, walking behind her as she returned to her bubbling pot. The girl stirring it stepped out of the way.
“I’m not completely sure,” Ezra replied as she popped the cork and dumped the tears into the hissing concoction. When she was done, she tossed the vial over her right shoulder, the glass shattering on the ground. “For good luck,” she muttered to herself.
I looked at the broken vial, blinking at it and the legendary level of mass fuckery Ezra had obtained. Feeling the very last of my nerves beginning to fray, I grated, “What do you mean you’re not really sure ?”
“I mean exactly that. I’m not really sure, but I have a hunch. A hunch that this is necessary.” She turned to the girl. “Make sure you keep stirring it. We don’t want the bottom to burn.”
“Alright,” the girl said with a nod. She picked up the wooden ladle and returned to her task.
Ezra faced me, her clouded eyes shooting straight past. “Yes.”
I quirked a brow. “Yes, what?”
“Yes,” she stated again. Then, she gave me a toothy, knowing grin. “To the two questions you’ve been asking yourself since you returned.”
“I’m going to need more than that, Ezra,” I sighed, mentally preparing for another helping of nonsense, but what else could be expected from the old rock worshipper?
Instead, I got the opposite as she replied, “The Lost Soul might be right about what she told you. If she had been able to see her husband after she passed, it might have helped her to transition. I know this can be very risky and have adverse effects, but at this point, I fear Harper is treading in dangerous waters. So yes, to answer your question, I think you should trust the Lost Soul and bring Ryker and Lyra here to see her.” She paused.
“Put it like this—what do you have to lose?”
Ezra had a point.
I thought it over for a while, weighing each side—risk versus reward. After some time had passed, I let out a breath, then said, “Alright. I’ll have Folkoln go get them.”
“Let us hope that it works,” Ezra added.
All I could do was nod.
“Now, about that second question of yours. Lost Souls are misunderstood creatures. They are conduits, speaking between worlds, even connecting the living to the dead. You see, they act as a channel and connect souls, even ones that have been extinguished. They then use that connection and exploit it, sometimes trapping their victims forever.” Her voice softened.
“The reason why it felt so real was because it was Sage’s dream pairing with yours. It was really her.”
My eyes widened.
For a brief moment, Sage and I . . . we had been connected .
Her dream and mine—husband and wife, our precious daughter, slumbering soundly in the room next to us. A family. Together. Bonded.
The future we should have had.
I let out a shaky, deep breath as I tipped my head toward the ceiling, carving every precious second of our shared dream into my mind, holding on to it as if it were my last. Every touch. Every glance. Every kiss. Every second of it. From beginning to end.
The only problem?
It was a dream, and it wasn’t real.
It wasn’t real.
The pain was, though.
A dagger to my chest, carving out my heart, splitting my rib cage open and tearing her from me. It hit me with the weight of a crumbling mountain, nearly wiping my legs out from underneath me. I had to put my hand against the wall just to stabilize myself as I grappled with my reality—
Sage wasn’t here.
And neither was our child.
I looked down at my ink-marked skin, my gaze shifting over the ones I had made with her. I would hold on to my tattoos with everything I had as I stumbled through the darkness, searching for her light.