33. Death is Love
33
DEATH IS LOVE
“Are you okay?” Naia pulled away and ran her fingers over the dried blood of his neck to inspect for any wounds that hadn’t healed. “Gods, Finny, I missed you. I have much to tell you.”
An effusion of warmth consumed him from the sound of her voice. “I am fine,” he assured her. “How did you know to bring the Council?”
“Alke. He journeyed to Hollow City and informed me of the situation. I ascended onto the Council a few hours ago—thanks to all the efforts of your organizations…” She gave him a pointed look. “When I arrived, I told Iliana everything. She was baffled that you did not shed a breath of it to her,” she said to Cassian.
Finnian pursed his lips, grateful for his bird’s undying devotion.
He shook his head, giving Cassian an inquisitive look. “How did Ruelle not foresee the Council’s involvement then?”
“I considered involving Iliana and the Council many times, but Ruelle had both of our threads under a microscope. Any case I tried to make against her, she always foresaw it, and was able to falsely prove me wrong,” Cassian explained, his hand never leaving Finnian’s back. “However, I doubt she would’ve been keeping a close eye on Naia’s Fate, with her being a High Goddess now.”
Naia’s brow fell as her fingertips glided along the inky swirl of the curse mark over Finnian’s Adam’s apple.
She blinked through the tears gathering in her eyes. “You fool,” she whispered.
Cassian frowned, watching the places her fingers traced.
Finnian didn’t wish to think about the curse right now. He would deal with it later—figure out a spell to cast on himself to slow its tendrils, but for now, he wanted to enjoy the moment. Ruelle had been defeated, and Naia was there, right in front of him.
Finnian lightly took her hand and lowered it from his neck. He dipped his chin to latch onto her gaze. “I see the winter god has taught you quite a bit since I’ve been away.”
The color of her wisps was radiant, like a pearl cut from the finest stone, beautiful and bright just like her.
“Theon is an excellent teacher.” She gave a lousy smile as she wiped at the fat droplets rolling down her cheeks. “I was teleporting around Hollow City in less than a month after your departure.”
Finnian grinned at the image. “And what of my nephew?”
A small, pitiful laugh slipped out through her sniffles. She placed her other hand over the back of his and squeezed. “He is absolutely dying to meet his uncle.”
Finnian had envisioned the moment many times. Prior to regaining his memories, he’d often imagined it while he was in his cell, trapped in Moros—after he’d rescued Father and escaped. He would daydream of escorting Father to Hollow City, standing on the roof of his favorite skyscraper with Naia, Ronin, and Ash. Some semblance of being a family, a true one, without Mira’s bullshit and the triplets and Marina.
Father will never get to see Hollow City.
Finnian’s heart grew heavy, like a stone caught in his chest.
“Naia.” He averted his eyes down to their joined hands. His throat tightened. “Father is?—”
An itch thrummed like an insect buzzing in his brain.
Father will never meet Ronin.
Cassian’s hand smoothed up his back and lightly gripped his shoulder. “Vale has passed,” he finished.
Father will never meet Ash.
Naia’s breath hitched.
Finnian grimaced at the sound. He didn’t want to see her reaction, because it would make the situation too visceral.
Father will never get to live again.
“He awaits at the gates.” Cassian turned to look at Finnian. “If you’d like, you both may join me as the Errai escort him into the Land.”
All because of you.
“Of course.” Naia’s voice wobbled. “Thank you, Lord Cassian.”
Finnian focused on the warm sensation of Naia’s hand over his; the nerves awakening in his toes after his torso had been severed into two; the imprints of Cassian’s fingertips on his shoulder; the distant fragrance of lavender infused in the light breeze. Anything but the reality of the topic they spoke of, anything but the burning itch and the haunting chorus of voices harassing his mind.
He could feel Cassian’s prismatic gaze studying the side of his face.
Finnian wanted to assure him everything was fine, but he could not lie. Not only that, but it would be useless. Cassian knew him better than that by now—with every tic and shift of expression Finnian intentionally gave, Cassian could see beneath his surface.
Finnian ground his teeth to halt the quivering of his jaw and managed a stiff nod.
Cassian moved his hand up Finnian’s nape and into his hair, cradling the back of his head.
Like second nature, Finnian eased into his palm.
Trickles of Cassian’s divine power sank through his scalp and dissolved into his bloodstream. The thrumming in his brain silenced, and his muscles relaxed in relief.
Cassian held out his other hand in the center of them and said, “Let us go see him off.”
Naia hesitated, making no move to do as he said.
The corner of Cassian’s mouth lifted as he looked at her. “I have no intention of cursing you again, Little Goddess. Two was enough.”
She blew air into her cheeks, her face scrunching.
Finnian chuckled as he guided both of their hands into Cassian’s.
Wisteria blossoms stuck in Finnian’s hair as they strolled towards the colossal iron doors at the center of the obsidian wall. In its stone held the carvings of deities Cassian had triumphed over during the Great Deity War for his title.
The first time Finnian had seen the engravings was five years ago, when he came to exchange his freedom for Naia’s. Prior, he’d only ever teleported directly into the Land. He’d stared up at them, naming them fools for their losses. Now, all he felt was a sense of pride. The Land and everything within it, they were pieces of Cassian, pieces of home.
Finnian held onto Naia’s hand as they traveled through the winding path in the enchanted wisteria. There was a wise energy among their roots. If Finnian were to siphon it, he was sure he could mold it and use it to gravely injure Marina.
The thought grew more and more enticing as they approached her.
She sat on her knees, her legs sprawled out at her sides, face buried in her hands, crying beside Father’s body. A magnolia blossom rested in her lap.
Finnian had never seen such emotion on Marina. It was odd and only hardened his animosity towards her.
A figure stood over her, tall and broad and wearing a velvet, evergreen robe. Crowning his head was a constellation of olive and orchid—soft, muted tones, just like his persona.
Ever the gentle, loving father.
An ache split down Finnian’s middle.
Naia passed him a look, squeezing his hand.
Finnian directed his attention down onto Marina—the source of his pain.
She should’ve killed me, not him.
Rage skewered sharply through him, like a spiked mace running up his gut and into his ribcage.
He ripped his hand from Naia and charged forward, bypassing Cassian.
Father’s soul spun and glided like he was made of water, acting as a barrier.
He stuck his hand out, pressing his palm against Finnian’s shoulder. “No more fighting.”
Finnian glared over him at Marina. “She murdered you! She murdered Kaleo! She has tormented Naia for far too long!”
“I will take responsibility for her actions.” Despite Finnian’s raised voice, Father spoke softly.
Finnian’s eyes jumped back to him, incredulous. “Father.”
“Finnian, you are each a product of your environment. The blame is mine and Mira’s to carry. You have all suffered because of our mistakes. There are two sides to each coin. As you and Naia received animosity from Mira, Marina received the same from me.”
Finnian’s jaw set. He couldn’t fathom Father being anything but kind, but the twinge in his gut reminded him nothing was ever as it seemed.
He glared down at Marina, watching her shoulders shake from her sobs. For the first time since he’d known her, she resembled a broken child.
“Promise me” — Father settled both hands on each of Finnian’s shoulders — “that you will let your hostility go. The life of a god may be eternal, but that is no reason to carry on without granting forgiveness. Forever is wasted if you spend it in anger.”
Finnian turned his head away, jaw flexing. He wanted to refuse, to make Marina bleed by his own volition, but it was Father’s request. How could he say no?
“Fine,” he forced out.
Father slid his hand off his shoulders and stepped around him to Naia.
A smiling sob sprang out of her. “Father.”
Father matched her tearful smile and held out his arms.
She jumped into his embrace. “I cannot believe you are here,” she whimpered.
He lifted her feet off the ground. “You have mesmerized me, darling. I am so proud of you.”
“You were right. All along. I apologize for how long it took me to believe in myself.”
Father chuckled. “You move at your own pace. Never at the speed anyone else urges you to. It is one of the many qualities I admire about you.”
Naia craned her head back and turned slightly, gesturing to the gilded hairpin in her silver strands. “Wren refuses freedom. No matter how many times I try.”
“That comes as no surprise.” Father brushed the hairpin along its wings. The solid gold shed to a colorful butterfly, and he smiled. “Do take care of those I cherish, Wren.”
The relic fluttered its wing before solidifying back into gold.
Naia squeezed Father’s neck, sniffling into his shoulder.
Father lowered her feet back to the ground and brought his hands to her cheeks, smiling down at her. “Please tell my grandson how much I love him.”
“I do. I do every day,” she hiccupped between her tears. “He’s brilliant and infatuated with flowers. Says he can feel you within their properties. He’s beautiful. He has my silver hair and Ronin’s eyes and Finnian’s scowl.”
Cassian and Father shared breathy laughs.
Finnian wanted to roll his eyes, savor the last moment of humor, but the brevity of the situation rang in his core. How could he laugh, or even smile, when they were approaching the end?
I shouldn’t have dismissed seeing him all those years ago.
“Enjoy your life, Naia.” Father tucked one of her sliver strands behind her ear. A bud sprouted and yawned open into a deep-red dahlia in place of his finger. “Every day of it.”
Naia clasped ahold of his wrist, her chin quivering. “I promise,” she squeaked out.
Father wiped away her falling tears and kissed her on her forehead.
He gently slid his wrist out of her hold and rotated towards his son.
Finnian’s racing heart palpitated, and he crossed his arms, looking away. “Don’t.” The word came out sharp.
“Finny.”
A lump swelled in his throat.
He stared down, the long ends of wisteria grazing the ground. “I will never see you again.”
“You will.”
Lies.
Heat flared up his neck and behind his eyes. He snapped his head up at Father. “No, I won’t.” He slapped his hand on his chest. “I am immortal.”
Father placed his hand over the back of Finnian’s. His tender touch reached through Finnian’s stubborn will and straight down into his soul. “Wherever you go, I am with you. Always .”
Finnian’s eyes burned. “In my heart, in my thoughts, it’s hardly enough.” A ragged, broken sound punctuated his words. He inhaled. “You and I will be parted for eternity, and I will carry our love with me alone .”
“Finnian.” Cassian frowned at his side.
Naia’s fingertips brushed his arm. “Finny?—”
“No.” Finnian ripped his hand away. Nerves spasmed through his system and caught in his stomach. He staggered back from them. “I?—”
A quivering in his bones felt like static trapped in his skin.
Pressure constricted his chest.
He pushed the heel of his hand against his sternum as his lungs wheezed to grab onto air.
He couldn’t let go. Not yet. He needed to fix this. A spell. He could use a spell. Keep him here forever and?—
Cassian grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him forward. Their chests collided as Cassian’s long arms strapped around him.
“Finny,” he whispered.
Finnian dug his face into Cassian’s shoulder to muffle his own sob.
“I can’t—” he hyperventilated. “I can’t say goodbye.”
“You don’t have to,” Cassian murmured, holding him snug with a hand on the back of his head, the other around his waist. “Death is much more than a collection of endings. Will you allow me to prove this to you?”
Finnian curled and uncurled his fingers at his sides. His limbs felt heavy, numbing. “I fear it won’t make a difference.”
A part of him knew Cassian was right. Life was far too complex for death to be so plainly bleak. But on the other hand, no matter how necessary death was, Finnian could not bring himself to comprehend it. Eternity was all he knew. No ends, no separation. He couldn’t make sense of the ephemeral.
And no amount of explaining would change the fact that Father’s time was up. Death was cruel that way. It did not give warning. It blew in when it so desired and left devastation proudly in its path, uncaring of those caught in its wake.
“You do not have to understand it,” Cassian said. “You just have to find a way to make peace with it.”
Trust him . Like you always have.
Back when they were enemies and Cassian first told him death was not a terrible thing, Finnian had despised how easily he’d believed him. He had refused to acknowledge the twinge in his chest each time he thought about the possibility. Though, he couldn’t help but do so.
Despair had existed all around him. As a boy, he could recall its presence in Father’s eyes; through his travels in the Mortal Land, in women and children and men taking refuge in dark corners of alleyways as shelter; every person that sought him out and begged him to revive their child, their lover, their friend.
There has to be more than this, Finnian always thought to himself. A place with no hurt, no anguish.
Cassian lightly pulled away, hands still in Finnian’s hair and on his waist. He met his gaze, brow slightly lifted, looking at him in a way that asked, are you ready ?
Finnian gave a weak nod.
Cassian returned his attention to Father.
Finnian did not. He could feel Father watching, the adoration pouring out and infusing in the air and dissolving deep into his pores. A love that sank into his marrow. He wanted to reach out and freeze it right there.
Father wrapped an arm around Finnian’s side, reaching out his other hand to scrub through Cassian’s hair. “It has been a nice life, old friend.”
Cassian scoffed through a small smile, smoothing his strands back. “I am happy to rid you and your moss from my prison.”
Father laughed. “I will find a way to grow it in the afterlife, I promise you that. I’ve taught my successor well.”
Cassian rolled his eyes. “I have no doubt.”
Father let out a breath, his smile shrinking into a more wistful one.
A solemn look shadowed Cassian’s features as he held Father’s eyes. “Are you ready, Vale?”
Father stared at him for a long moment, squeezing Finnian’s side one last time before stepping away. “Yes.”
Finnian’s pulse beat frantically in his throat.
Cassian slipped his fingers through Finnian’s as he looked at Naia and then down to Marina. “Both of you, follow.”
Marina made no move to get up. She shook and wept like a fragile, broken thing.
Finnian’s nostrils flared, the sight clotting a sickness in his gut.
Naia breezed past them and kneeled beside Marina. “Come on, Sister.” She gently took hold of Marina’s forearm and hauled her up. “I will hold on to you.”
Surprisingly, Marina did not dispute.
Together, they rose to their feet.
With one hand, she clung to Naia’s arm, and in her other, she clasped the magnolia against her stomach. Her porcelain complexion was splotchy and hideous from her tears.
Finnian’s eyes flickered to Father. He watched them with small pride—a fulfillment of some dying wish. Finnian was glad Naia could be the one to grant that to him.
The iron gates rumbled the ground as they split apart. A trail wound through the forest of wisteria.
Lustrous, fiery globes drifted under the wispy branches like small stars. They skipped and dashed across the air, a fading giggle echoing behind them.
Two Errai cloaked in bone-gray attire met them at the trail, their faces hidden behind their marble masks.
They both bowed in greeting and then gestured to Vale to stand in the empty space between them.
He did and they started forward.
Cassian strolled behind them with Finnian in hand.
Naia walked at Finnian’s other side, her arm interlocked with Marina’s. Both of their heads were lifted, their eyes chasing the glowing spirits.
“They are souls,” Finnian whispered to Naia.
“Amazing,” Naia breathed out, captivated.
Beyond the swaying tendrils of wisteria, Finnian could make out the knolls at the entrance of the Lavender Fields of Healing. The sight spiked his heart rate, compressing his breath.
This is it. This is truly it.
His chest tightened.
I can’t do this. I can’t watch him leave me—again.
Resistance burned the muscles in his legs. He went to pull his hand from Cassian, but Cassian’s grip constricted.
Finnian cut his eyes over at him.
Cassian gave him a comforting look that said, you are okay .
Finnian let out an unsteady exhale as they emerged from the tree line.
The delicate breeze of the Field ruffled through his hair, fluttering his shirt against his torso.
Naia’s breath hitched at the view of the rustling lavender. “Beautiful.”
They came to a stop and the Errai both turned sideways and stretched an arm out, gesturing to the vast, lavender locks. “Lord Vale, High God of Nature, it is an honor to welcome you into the Land of the Dead. In the Lavender Field, you will find healing. Your troubles, your pain, it will all fade. May you find peace in Death.”
Father’s body shifted to take a step.
“Wait!” Finnian lurched forward, catching the velvet material of his robe in between his fingers. “I am not ready for this!”
Father twisted to face him. It was strange to not see the baby's breath gracing his dark strands; his scruffy cheeks devoid of color; eyes that were as crisp as the earth’s soil, now the same pastel lilac sparkle as the energy shining over his head. Proof that what had happened in the grove was real.
He was dead and everything screamed in Finnian to find a way to reverse it.
Father lifted Finnian’s hand up between them and turned his palm upright.
“I create blossoms knowing only a few will survive a day.” He swiveled his own wrist in a familiar motion and a large trumpet-shaped flower blossomed in Finnian’s open hand. “But there is no such thing as finality. The cycle continues, time and time again. You must let it.”
Tears welled in Finnian’s eyes, pricking at the back of his nose. The flower petals tickled against his skin. He’d never had the chance to tell Father what his favorite flower was as a boy, and yet, somehow, he knew.
Father leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Even in death, Finnian. Love is the only thing truly immortal.”
Finnian’s vision blurred Father into a silhouette. He pursed his lips to smother another sob.
Father stepped back and gave him, Naia, and Marina a final look.
Finnian blinked away the moisture collecting in his eyes, desperate to memorize this moment. One last time. To float in Father’s presence, like the calmest sea, feeling as it began to drain away.
Eyes glistening, Father said, “I love each of you. Deeper than the earth.”
Finnian’s eyes fell shut.
Naia curled her other arm around his waist and pulled him into her side.
Footfalls shuffled through the stalks of lavender.
He is leaving me.
His legs shook against his own weight. Naia held him closer to her side, as if she could feel his trembling.
He is leaving me.
The hard pounding of his heart echoed in his skull.
He is leaving me.
“Finny,” Naia gasped through her weeping. “Look.”
Finnian opened his eyes.
Father waded through the waist-high lavender. A woman with long black hair raced for him with a small child in her arms. They soared across the Field, flickering from human form to radiant orbs shooting over the blossomed ends of the lavender.
At the sight of them, Father stopped and his shoulders melted, as if all the weight of his sorrows had drifted away. The centuries of pain and misery that life had brought. All stones he’d done well to carry.
This is peace.
“Daddy!” the child called out, giggling. He had Father’s smile, a contagious warmth in his eyes.
“Vale! We’ve been waiting.” The woman’s beaming face drew closer, almost there.
A happy laugh left Father, and he threw his arms wide. “I am here. Finally .” The words left him like a breath of relief.
The woman and child leapt into his open embrace, and he held them like he had held Finnian and Naia many times.
“I am here,” he said. “And I am not going anywhere.”
A cracked sound scraped up the back of Finnian’s throat. He slapped a hand over his mouth to hold it down.
Marina clung to Naia, a loud, violent cry pouring out of her.
Naia soothed her with a hand in her hair as her own sobs shook through her. She buried her face into Finnian’s arm, her breath erratic and her posture slumping on him.
He lifted his arm to support her, but it prickled, like the nerves were short-circuiting. Emotions he’d ran from his entire life flooded in, threatening to capsize him.
Cassian’s hand slid over his nape and into his hair. His lips lightly met the side of Finnian’s temple.
In his touch, the pillars in Finnian’s heart crumbled, and a mangled cry broke free. He folded inward and wailed.
“Love is death,” Cassian whispered, holding him close. “But death is love again.”