Chapter Twenty-Three – Grim
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grim
The moment we materialized in Asterhaven’s foyer, I felt Millie sway against me. I tightened my grip, steadying her. I was still reeling from the panic I’d felt when I couldn’t find her in the Halls of Death. For a second, I thought I’d lost her. I knew then, with certainty, that I’d give up everything – my existence, my soul, whatever was left of me – to save her.
Millie’s gasp snapped me out of my thoughts. “It’s night already? But we were only gone for a few hours!”
I was about to respond when a clatter from the kitchen caught our attention. Millie tensed, and I instinctively moved in front of her. We crept towards the noise. As we entered the kitchen, we found Elysia in the middle of what looked like a culinary warzone. Pots and pans littered every surface, flour dusted the countertops like snow, and something that might have once been pasta was stuck to the ceiling.
“Elysia!” Millie cried, rushing to hug her sister. Or rather… daughter.
The girl’s eyes welled up. “I’m sorry. I wanted to make dinner, but...”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Millie soothed, stroking Elysia’s hair. “It’s fine, really.”
I hung back, feeling like an intruder in this tender moment.
Millie pulled away from Elysia. “Why don’t you go set the table in the dining room? We’ll handle this.”
Elysia nodded, eyes lighting up. “Oh! How’s Lady Mews? Did you see her at the vet?”
I saw Millie freeze for a split second, her eyes darting to me in panic. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice a touch too high. “I did. She’s doing great, sweetie. The vet says she’ll be home soon.”
Elysia beamed and scampered off to the dining room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Millie’s shoulders slumped.
“I completely forgot about that,” she whispered. “I told her this morning I was going to visit Lady Mews.”
I moved closer, careful not to step on any of the debris littering the floor. “You did what you had to,” I said softly. “No use worrying her unnecessarily.”
Millie nodded, but I could see the guilt eating at her. She started gathering up pots and pans, her movements mechanical. I joined her, picking up a particularly mangled wooden spoon.
“You know,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “I’ve seen battlefields that were less chaotic than this kitchen.”
She let out a small laugh, but I could tell not even my poor joke could cheer her up. As I watched Millie clean up the kitchen disaster, my mind raced. How had I not seen it before? Elysia wasn’t just Millie’s sister; she was her daughter. The resemblance was uncanny, and now that I knew the truth, it seemed blindingly obvious.
“I know. I’m an awful person,” Millie said, her voice barely above a whisper, so Elysia wouldn’t hear. “I keep lying to her, it’s like I can’t stop. What’s wrong with me?”
“Hey, now,” I said. “Some lies are harmless, you know. And you’re clearly doing it out of love.”
Millie looked up at me, her blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. It was a look I’d seen countless times before – on the faces of mothers protecting their children, of soldiers shielding their comrades from harsh truths. It was the look of someone carrying a burden too heavy for one person.
“Elysia’s just a kid,” I continued, stepping closer to her. “She’s too young to deal with all this stuff. It’s natural for the adults in her life to want to protect her.”
Millie nodded, but I could see the doubt still lingering in her eyes. I wanted to tell her everything then – about Death, the third gift, the possibility to save her life. But I couldn’t. Not yet. So instead, I did the only thing I could: I reached out and took her hand in mine. The moment our skin touched, I felt that strange warmth again, like life flowing back into my dead bones. It was addictive.
“Listen,” I said, my voice low. “I’m on your side, Millie. You’re not doing anything wrong. You have your reasons, and they’re good ones.”
She squeezed my hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, Grim.”
We stood there for a moment, surrounded by the chaos of Elysia’s culinary experiment, hand in hand. It was nice. Too nice. I knew I should pull away, maintain some distance. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Millie’s eyes met my dark, endless pits, and I saw a flicker of desire strong enough to match mine. Before I could process what was happening, she leaned in, closing the gap between us. Her lips met mine, soft and warm against my cold, lifeless ones. And as soon as we connected, the familiar surge of life rushed through me. I felt my chest tighten, a phantom heartbeat pounding where my heart should’ve been. I pulled her closer, one hand cupping her face while the other rested on the small of her back. Millie’s fingers tangled in my cloak, holding on as if I might disappear at any moment. The kiss deepened, and I could taste the desperation on her lips. It was a kiss born of fear, of uncertainty, of the knowledge that our time together was limited. But it was also filled with something else – hope, maybe.
When we finally broke apart, she was breathing heavily. I rested my forehead against hers.
“We’ll figure this out,” I murmured. “Together.”
Millie nodded. “Together.”
Half an hour later, I was leaning against the dining room doorframe, watching Millie and Elysia at the dinner table. Their laughter filled the room. Elysia was animatedly recounting her cooking adventure, complete with dramatic hand gestures that nearly knocked over her glass of milk.
“And then the spaghetti went splat!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Right on the ceiling!”
Millie chuckled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Well, that explains the new pasta-based ceiling decor.”
I couldn’t help but smile. These little moments, so ordinary yet so precious, were what made life worth living. I wanted to bottle them up, preserve them forever in my memory. After a century of dealing with death and darkness, this slice of normalcy felt like a breath of fresh air. As I watched them, my non-existent stomach twisted with guilt. Millie felt bad for lying to her daughter all the time, and I was lying to her now by omission, not telling her there was a way out of this mess. I remembered the look on her face when she lied to Elysia about seeing Lady Mews today. The pain in her eyes, the weight of that small deception. How could I burden her with more?
My thoughts drifted to Norman, that sorry excuse for a human being. I’d judged him harshly for abandoning his wife when she needed him most. But now, keeping this vital information from Millie… Was I any better? It was a sobering thought. For all my decades of existence, for all the wisdom I’d supposedly gained, I was still making very human mistakes. I was still lying, still hurting the people I cared about, all in the name of protection.
Maybe that was the real curse of immortality. Not the endless march of time or the weight of memories, but the fact that no matter how long you lived, you never really outgrew your humanity. You never stopped making the same old mistakes.
I watched as Millie reached across the table to wipe a smudge of sauce from Elysia’s cheek. Who was I to judge Norman, or anyone else for that matter? We were all just fumbling through life, some of us through eternity, trying our best to protect the ones we loved.