Chapter 27 Katharina
Katharina
The cathedral was almost completely consumed by flames. I ran toward the front doors, and they burst open under my will.
Heat slammed into me, stealing the breath from my lungs.
The great wooden beams of the ceiling had collapsed, sending pillars of fire roaring toward the heavens through gaps in the roof.
The pews where generations had prayed were nothing but skeletons now.
Stained glass shattered and rained down in glittering shards, saints and angels melting into puddles of colored light on the scorched stone floor.
And in the center of it all was Heinrich.
The flames licked at his cassock, burning it away to nothing. But his skin was unmarred as the last embers of his vestige floated away.
“Heinrich!” I screamed his name, and he turned to me slowly.
He raised one hand, outstretched into the flames that coiled around him, hungry. He beckoned to me, his palm open as the fire roared higher and higher—like six pairs of golden wings.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t step toward him, the flames blocking my path.
Years of nightmares surfaced—flesh peeling, guts bursting.
Even at this distance the heat was immense, the hairs on my neck and arms rising, confusing it for bitter cold.
Every instinct urged to run, to flee before the flames found me too.
I knew these would not bend to my will, the destruction in them too great.
But I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t leave him.
The cathedral ceiling groaned above us, centuries of wood and faith about to collapse. But Heinrich stood in the heart of it all, untouched, waiting. His eyes—dark and patient—held me steady.
“Come to me,” he said, though his voice shouldn’t have carried over the fury of the fire.
So many had burned in this city, screaming as they were dragged to their fate. They hadn’t had a choice as the flames ate them down to nothing.
I did.
I looked into his eyes, and there was no darkness, only light—a golden light calling me to a home I had long forgotten.
“Be not afraid.”
I stepped into the fire.
It should have been agony. It should have been my mother’s death all over again. Instead, the flames parted like the great sea, hot but not burning, and then—
My fingers slid over his. He tugged, pulling me through the last of the flames so I landed against his chest. Arms wrapped around me, and I pressed close as his scent engulfed me.
It was not smoke and ash, but something softer that dragged me back to quiet mornings studying in the rectory.
Below the power it was ancient paper and leather, with just a hint of incense.
“Heinri—” But his hand cradled the back of my head so I couldn’t look up at him. The flames surged around us, and his soft voice whispered in my ear.
“Do you trust me, my Katharina?”
I always had. Even when I’d known what he was, I had never feared him, not truly. I had always known he would protect me, at all costs. I leaned into his chest, and as the cathedral splintered and fell around us, I heard the steady beating of his heart.
“I do.”
“Then remember, you must suffer to find salvation. In order to be reborn, first one must die.”
“You promised me—”
“Yes, my dove. I promised. But once two souls have been intertwined, they can never truly be parted.”
“Do you mean Heinrich’s or mine?”
“With a love like yours, they are one and the same.”
My hands shook as I gripped him tighter. Tears leaked from my eyes, evaporating before they could fall.
The flames were closer now, no longer held back by whatever power he possessed. Sweat trickled down my spine as they licked at my feet. Then it was hot—so hot I could think of nothing else.
Smoke filled my nostrils and my skin began to bubble. My nails sank into the flesh of his back.
The pain surged, a consuming wave that swallowed me whole. I screamed against Heinrich’s chest and felt the vibration of his voice murmuring words I could not understand, a hymn in a language older than the world.
I could feel it—every layer of myself being stripped away, rendered down to fat and bone while my blood boiled.
I understood now why so many screamed. How could they not? How could anyone endure this? They couldn’t. I couldn’t.
But Heinrich held me through it, his arms never loosening even as my flesh fused to his, even as we burned together in the heart of this false temple.
Let go, something whispered. You need to fall.
But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. My fingers—what remained of them—clutched at Heinrich even as the bones began to blacken.
I’m afraid.
My lungs collapsed, filled with fire instead of air. My heart—my stubborn, foolish heart—stuttered and slowed, each beat weaker than the last.
Let go. I will catch you.
I stared into the flames and saw so many things.
I saw a soldier who no longer had nightmares, lulled to sleep by a gentle tonic. He held his young son on his lap, smiling.
I saw a women I’d helped end a pregnancy that would have killed her, now playing in wildflowers with a healthy baby.
I saw Greta riding in the back of a wagon with a young shepherd, smoke rising in the distance as they fled to the south.
And I saw myself, thirteen years old, hiding beneath an oak tree with tears streaming down my face. She looked up, and I saw her for what she truly was—just a frightened girl in a world full of far too much sharpness. We locked eyes across time.
I forgive you. It was never your fault.
There was a great exhale through the cathedral, and I realized there was no coming back. Darkness snaked around me, soft and inviting, and the last thing I felt was Heinrich’s lips pressing against my ruined forehead—my final absolution.
And then I was falling.
The void rushed around me, stars streaming into thin lines as I fell faster and faster. Above me, a golden light grew farther and farther away—shrinking to a pinprick, then to nothing at all.
What had once been unbearable heat was now infinitely cold, as if the fire had never existed, as if every comfort and ounce of myself had been stripped away.
Home. I felt the word deep in my heart. That was where I had fallen from, where I would never see again.
Loneliness threatened to consume me, and tears slipped from my eyes, freezing to my cheeks before they could fall.
Then a great flaming comet shot forth from the disappearing golden portal, hurtling straight toward me.
As it drew closer, a great pair of flaming wings spread wide, followed by another, and then another.
Six wings of fire and starlight, just as the prophets had written, just as I had seen in the cathedral’s burning heart.
He reached a hand out to me, and when I grabbed it, our palms were a perfect match.
I let him wrap me in his arms, warmth spreading everywhere he touched.
His features swirled into starlight and the deepest void, the fires of Heaven and Hell both flaming along his skin.
He was beautiful. He was terrible. He was mine.
He gripped me tighter as I felt myself being pulled apart, unmade and remade in the space between breaths. Then his lips collided with mine, and I tasted eternity—ash and honey, sorrow and joy, every prayer I had ever whispered and every sin I had ever craved.
Be not afraid, I felt his voice say—not heard but known, written directly onto my soul.
And for the first time in my life, I was not.
We hurtled toward the earth at an unimaginable speed, but he held me, and I knew I was safe.
The ground rushed up to meet us, and when we struck, everything went white and silent.
I felt the impact in my bones, felt the earth crack and give beneath us, and then there was only darkness and the steady beat of his heart against mine.