38. When Light Fades #2
“When Mannie showed me that yer success here ended in my death… and again when I saw the dagger tear through yer flesh,” he mutters, his voice thick with restrained emotion.
Callan adds in a strained whisper, “It should have been me.”
Finn’s head snaps toward him. “No,” he says firmly, his gaze piercing as it shifts back to me. “This was written before we ever drew breath.”
The weight of the prophecy lingers in the air between us. Finn’s expression hardens with a resigned clarity, and his next words strike me like lightning.
“I was always meant to be here. To protect you, as I swore I would. I never made a promise to you I didnae intend to keep.”
A sob tears free from my throat as I shake my head, gripping the bars between us as if I could break the universe itself to undo this moment.
“No,” I cry, my voice breaking. “You are so much more than this . More than all the things they’ve summed you up to be.
And you know that, Finn. This was not your destiny. ”
His hand tightens around mine, his touch grounding me even as my world falls apart.
“I would die a thousand deaths for you, Triona,” he says, with a faint smile on his lips. “I would stare death in the face again and again if it meant ye’d live, free and whole.”
“Finn—”
“We dinnae have long,” he interrupts, urgency creeping into his tone. He glances over his shoulder, and I can almost feel the shadows closing in. “He’s not dead, Triona. You have to leave.”
“I can’t!” My voice is raw, shredded by emotion. “How can I be without you? You are the reason I still breathe, Finn. You just became mine.”
I’m fighting against time itself, desperate to hold on to every fleeting second, to keep my grip on the man who is my everything .
“Triona,” Finn says softly, his voice trembling as he cups my hand tighter, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “If there’s one thing you must know—it’s that I’ve never belonged to prophecy, or fate, or anyone else. Only you .”
Each breath scrapes like glass through my chest. Air shouldn’t hurt—but it does.
“You live for more than me,” he whispers. “You live for others—for the world that still needs you. Our love story will outlive us both, I promise you that. Love like ours…” His voice falters. Tears fall in quiet trails. “Love like ours is rare. And it’s infinite.”
“Finn…” I breathe.
“Just for a moment,” I whisper, voice trembling, “let me pretend I can keep you. Selfishly. Let me pretend this world doesn’t exist. Just us. One memory.”
He lets out a breath of a laugh—soft, shaky, still somehow warm. “One memory? To sum up every day I’ve spent with you these seven years?”
I chuckle weakly; the sound cracked with sorrow. “You were always good at the impossible.”
His smile deepens, bittersweet and aching. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it softly, reverently. “Then how about one for the future?”
Callan moves beside me. His hand rests on my back—solid and steady—and for once, I don’t push him away.
“Callan,” Finn says, barely louder than a breath. “Give me the bag.”
Callan hands him a small leather pouch. Finn cradles it carefully, fingers brushing over the worn edge. His eyes lock with mine—and the world stills.
“The last of my dreams.”
With trembling fingers, he lifts a ring from the pouch and slides it onto my finger, the cool metal sending a shiver through me. A sharp breath slips past my lips, and for a moment, the world narrows to just him—his voice, his touch, his unwavering gaze.
Forged from silver, its intricate ivy design winding along the band like a living thing. At its heart, an emerald glimmers, catching the light even in the shadow of despair. It’s as if the ring itself holds a piece of his soul, crafted with a love that defies time.
If I thought my heart had been breaking before, it now feels as though it’s shattered entirely, the pieces piercing every part of me.
“It was yer mother’s,” he whispers, his voice full of equal parts affection and sorrow.
With shaky hands, I bring the ring closer; the inscription etched into the band catching my eye. As I read the words aloud, my breath falters .
“éire go Brách.”
Ireland to the end of time.
A sob breaks free, uncontainable and raw.
I shut my eyes tightly, as if by doing so, I can stop the flood of emotions threatening to drown me.
“My love for you does not end in death,” his voice remains steady despite the tears glistening on his cheeks. “I would die a thousand times over for you.”
His voice gains a rushed urgency, as though he’s racing against time itself to tell me everything he’s held back.
“The only thing I’d change about these past seven years—every precious moment I’ve had with you—is not tellin’ you this sooner. I should have told you years ago. I should have told you every day.”
Before I can respond, his hand glides into my hair, his fingers threading through it with a tenderness that unravels me further, and he pulls my lips to his.
His kiss is everything—a collision of desperation and passion, of love and finality.
It’s hungry, consuming, a kiss that demands to be remembered for a lifetime.
I feel his heartbreak, his devotion, and his unwavering resolve in every movement, and I cling to him as though I can hold him here, keep him from slipping away.
When he finally breaks the kiss, he brings his forehead to rest against mine. Our breaths mingle as tears stream down both our faces.
“I’ll wait,” he declares. “At the entrance to the Otherworld. I would’ve been honoured to be yer husband in this life.”
He draws back just enough to meet my gaze. His hands cradle either side of my face, thumbs brushing away tears.
“Next time,” he says, voice cracking. “Next time, I’ll do it right. Ye’ll be mine. And I’ll be yers.”
“You already are,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “You ruined me, as you said you would.”
His lips quirk into the faintest smile, bittersweet and full of longing.
“A piece of me will die here today if I lose you,” I breathe.
“I would never be the same. I could never belong to another. And I refuse—” my voice gains an edge, his grip on me tightening momentarily.
“I refuse to truly accept a world without you in it. You are the last whisper in my consciousness. Nothing can replace you, Finn. Nothing ever could. ”
“You have much to do before yer last day,” he says, his tone soft but resolute.
He presses a kiss to my lips. And this one, this one feels like a goodbye. The final nail in the coffin.
Nothing in me cares about what lay ahead—the days and weeks to come, the turmoil, the suffering of others.
There is no room left in my body to care about anything but the devastating truth that my heart is being ripped away.
The pieces of me that remain are hollow, fragile, and I feel as though I might collapse under the weight of it all.
Callan’s hand, steady and strong, is the only reason I can still stand.
My legs waver beneath me, my thoughts a disjointed mess, and I can’t summon the will to fight against the pull of despair.
If Finn is leaving me—if his fate is to be sealed here—then I will happily die in this place, knowing I won’t have to live a moment without him.
Behind me, I feel Callan stir. I hear him take a deep breath before speaking. “Ye have my thanks,” he says, his tone steady despite the emotion thick in his throat. “For everything. But most importantly, for lovin’ my sister.”
Callan smiles as a single tear rolls down his face.
Finn and Callan grip each other’s forearms, a gesture that carries the weight of everything left unspoken between them.
Finn’s eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs. “ I love you ,” he says, each word heavier than the last. “We will never part.”
Callan tugs at my arm, his grip firm but careful. “Now, Triona,” he urges, his tone sharpening with the desperation of the moment as a shadow emerges behind Finn, a form solidifying and closing in. My heart seizes in panic, and I instinctively tighten my grip on Finn’s hand.
“I can’t—” My voice breaks, each word a struggle as my breaths grow shallow. “I can’t leave you. I don’t care if I fall—if I fall right now…” My knees buckle slightly, my vision swimming in and out of focus.
Finn’s gaze softens, his love for me written in every line of his face. He turns to Callan, his voice a low command. “Take her from here.”
“No!” I gasp, my legs refusing to move as the weight of the moment crushes me.
Callan’s arms wrap around my waist, his strength far outmatching my failing resolve, and he tosses me over his shoulder.
I let out a scream as he begins to run .
Finn stands firm, hand moving to the hilt of his sword, drawing it with the precision of a man prepared to fight until the bitter end.
Before turning, he raises two fingers to his lips, kissing them softly, and gestures them toward me.
Then, without hesitation, he faces the oncoming threat, and I can do nothing but watch in helpless horror. He fights valiantly, his movements swift and precise.
“Finn!” The scream shreds my throat. I pound my fists into Callan’s back—uselessly, like trying to dam a river with my bare hands. Time slows, each second stretching into an eternity as my body weakens further, my grip on this life slipping away.
“Look away,” Callan begs, voice cracking. “Gods, Triona, look away!”
I can’t. Tears well in my eyes as I choke out, “Not while he still draws breath, Cal… don’t leave him… please.” My voice trembles with desperate sorrow as I cling to consciousness by a thread, my gaze fixed on Finn.
Through what feels like the eyes of another, I see it—see him as a blade buries itself in his chest—the steel glinting cruelly as it exits through where the tattoo of the stag lay on his back.
Finn staggers but keeps his grip on the sword, forcing Indech back with a desperate thrust. For a heartbeat, I dare to hope—but then Indech wrenches the blade free, and scarlet blooms across Finn’s shirt in a pattern too cruelly beautiful for this nightmare.
He lifts his gaze to find me in the chaos. A tired smile ghosts over his lips—tender, resigned. In that final, silent moment, he mouths something I know intimately and irrevocably: ‘I love you.’
And then he collapses.
Something inside me shatters. A sound erupts from my throat—not a scream, not a sob—something inhuman. I feel an indescribable pain that destroys a person from the inside out.
Darkness threatens to steal our final moments—the press of his lips against my fingers, the mingling warmth of his body with the fading embers of my own, and those whispered words, as soft as a sigh from the Otherworld: “ We will never part .”
But the world is too cruel a place to hold such solace.
The last thing I know is the taste of iron on my tongue, the burn of tears in my throat, and the faint press of the ring against my chest—unbreakable, even as I break.
Then, the world is gone, taking Finn with it.