Epilogue
I exist and therefore.
Ruin, the Tethered King
Arya and Cassandra walk side by side like they were made for one another. Like fate had derived their souls from the same cloth. From the same ocean in eternity. They even think the same.
Seven hundred years separates these two women, yet they laugh and cry and love with abandon.
Perhaps it is because Cassandra Alta never became the Xaltox. Perhaps it is because of Arya’s nature that their fates were so perfectly intertwined. Omen’s incessant meddling may not be the reason for the fragmentation, but Xalrys never needed the fate-breaker.
Not when she already had Time Immortal. The fate-maker.
Arya spins Cassandra toward her, rocking her firmly into her warm embrace. The taller woman laughs brightly; her rulership crown left firmly at the door to their Romanian home.
Except they know that the good times are rare. Cassandra knew the moment the Seers had sent her into the pale woman’s life. Arya already knew.
The spirits have all but told her the truth—they’ve tried for months now.
In time, she will learn.
But I can’t interfere.
Not right now.
And it’s for the best.
Because this is all my fault.