Epilogue
SABINE
Through Basten’s love, I feel a change.
No—a new phase. Like a caterpillar shedding its old form, again and again, until a moth lifts itself for the first time into the night.
It’s something that’s always been there, I think. Something I could call forth when needed, but I was too deafened by the mortal world to hear it.
My bones shift and slide along my back in a way that isn’t painful so much as it’s powerful. My fey lines flare and blister along the sharp curve of my shoulder blades.
I drop to my knees, tearing at my gown. Shove the neckline down over one shoulder until my bare back is exposed. I clutch the scraps of fabric to my chest as I heave a breath.
Basten kneels beside me, his touch sure and grounding.
“It’s okay, Sabine. Let them come.”
And they come. They break free. Delicate, powdery soft as a moth’s, the same stone-white color as Myst’s fur—unfurling into the beam of sunlight that shines like a spotlight down on my wings.
END OF BOOK FOUR