Chapter 23
Remli shifts instantly, the sound of her bones cracking as she takes her human shape, and throws herself down beside her brother, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders.
Lowan drops from the skies in a rush of wings, landing hard, already running.
Selene and Zillah push to their feet, both faces stricken.
But I don’t need to touch Sirona to know. Her chest is still. The faint shimmer of magic that always clung to her—gone. Color has drained from her cheeks, and her mouth is soft, slack, as though she merely drifted away.
Kyler shakes his head violently, tears streaming down his face. “I—gods—I only dozed for a minute. Just a minute. And when I woke, she—she was—” His voice breaks. “I failed her.”
“You didn’t.” Remli grips his hands, fierce, forcing him to look at her. “Kyler, listen to me. You didn’t fail her.”
“I should have been awake! If I’d stayed awake—”
“There was nothing you could have done.” Selene crouches on the other side, her voice steady but trembling at the edges. “Her injuries were too great. I wasn’t sure she’d survive the night, and I knew she couldn’t survive the ride to the village. You gave her peace, Kyler. Not failure. Peace.”
But Kyler is already folding himself over Sirona’s body, arms shielding her as if he can protect her even now. His sobs tear through the clearing, ragged and raw, and every sound slices at my chest.
I look toward Lowan. He hasn’t moved. His jaw is tight, his shoulders stiff, but tears track silently down his face. Instinctively, I move toward him. Without a word, he turns, and we walk into the shadow of the trees.
“Lowan…” My throat closes, but I force the words out. “Lowan, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head, voice hoarse. “You went back into that hell to bring her out. You were the one who found her. You did more than I ever could have asked.”
“But it wasn’t enough.” My chest aches. “This is on me. If I had never come here, none of this would’ve happened.” The guilt rips through me, sharp and merciless.
“No.” His knees give way, and he collapses to the ground, hands covering his face.
His voice breaks apart on the words. “She was the best of us, Metra. The very best. But you—I don’t regret one fucking moment that brought you to me.
Not one. Not ever.” A sob racks him, and I fall to my knees beside him.
“I could never wish you away. Never wish I hadn’t found you.
” His shoulders heave beneath the weight of sorrow.
I pull him into my arms. His weight collapses into me, his grief shuddering through my bones. He weeps against my shoulder, repeating it over and over—“She was the best of us. The best of us…” I hold him, and I do not let go.
The first light of dawn creeps through the trees, painting the snowy forest floor in pale gold. By the time we gather again around the mouth of the cave, all of us look wrecked—red eyes, swollen faces, bodies slumped with exhaustion.
Sirona lies so still, so peaceful, with the faintest smile at the corner of her lips.
For a moment, I can almost imagine she’s only resting.
But then the sun lifts higher, spilling warmth across the clearing, and I catch my breath.
It is the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen—ribbons of pink and fire laced with soft gold—and I cannot help but think Sirona’s sunshine has had a hand in it.
Kyler kneels beside her body, hollowed out, destroyed.
None of us knows how to move or breathe.
But tradition gives us something to cling to.
Here, people honor the dead with fire, releasing their spirits to rejoin the Threads of Fate.
None of us likes the thought of leaving her in some nameless patch of woods.
So we choose for Sirona to be given to the flame here, but for Kyler to carry her ashes back to the Veynar estate, to their mother, where she can rest properly.
We scatter into the forest. My hands tremble as I drag branches into the clearing.
Others do the same, weaving together a pyre.
Selene disappears for a while and returns with armfuls of flowers I’ve never seen before—silvery-white blossoms that seem to glow faintly in the dawn.
She presses several into my palms, and together we lay them across Sirona’s body.
When we finally placed her on the pyre, we all fell silent. Selene clears her throat, her eyes bright with tears. “Does anyone want to say anything?” We all do. Too much. But no words in any realm could ever capture Sirona Veynar.
Selene speaks first, her voice breaking. “Sirona was a true light in this realm.”
We murmur our agreement. Kyler weeps softly as we speak, one by one. Zillah remembers her younger sister’s laugh. Lowan tells how she could drag a smile from him, even when he’d forgotten how. Remli thanks Sirona for loving her brother and bringing him joy.
Finally, it’s my turn. My eyes blur with tears, my throat raw with grief.
“Sirona’s face was the first I saw when I stumbled into this realm, and I knew instantly she was safe; that I was safe with her.
She sat with me, talked with me, never asking for anything—just treating me like a friend, like a sister.
I don’t know if I would have survived those first days of confusion and fear without her.
She—” My voice falters. Lowan’s hand closes around mine, steadying me.
I draw a breath. “She did not deserve to have her light taken from this realm. I will not rest until I avenge her.”
Kyler drops to one knee and slices open his palm, swearing the same oath in blood.
Selene looks to Lowan, then to Zillah, then back to Kyler. Her voice trembles, solemn. “Would you like to light the fire?”
Kyler swallows hard, stroking his love’s hair one last time. Then he shakes his head. “She mattered to all of us. It should be all of us together.”
So we step forward, shoulder to shoulder. Each of us calls an ember of magic to our fingertips and casts it into the pyre. Lowan murmurs to me to ensure I know how to call forth the magic. Flame takes, racing along the wood, consuming flowers and branches until light surrounds Sirona.
We stand vigil. Tears spill freely. Lowan clings to me as though I’m the only thing holding him to the earth.
Remli’s arms remain locked around Kyler.
Zillah and Selene fold into each other’s embrace.
Hours blur. Sometimes someone wanders into the trees to breathe, but there is always someone watching, guarding, until the last flame gutters and all that remains is ash and smoke. The silence afterward feels unbearable.
“She would have been an incredible healer,” Lowan says at last, voice rough.
Kyler’s eyes glisten. “She already healed me. In more ways than I can count.”
I nod because I know it too. Sirona touched me in her own way, stitching something in me I hadn’t even realized had needed it.
But we cannot linger. Pursuit still hounds us.
So Kyler dries an empty waterskin and kneels at the pyre, gathering a portion of ashes with hands that shake but do not falter.
“I’ll see you all again,” he murmurs, looking at each of us.
Then he pulls Remli into one last embrace before shifting, wings bursting wide, and launching into the morning sky. We watch until he vanishes.
“You didn’t want to go with him?” I ask quietly.
Remli shakes her head, eyes following the empty sky.
“Some things you have to do alone. This is one of them.” Then she notices me watching her, and the softness hardens.
She huffs, disdain curling her lip. “Guess I’m stuck with you lot.
No way I can go back to the Guardians, so I’m at your mercy now. ”
I glance at Lowan, Selene, and Zillah. Before Sirona’s light went out, we all knew where we were going.
And yet, it feels wrong—selfish—to speak of it so soon.
Still, Zillah is the one who breaks the silence.
“Sirona would not have wanted us to stop. She would have wanted answers. She would have wanted us to finish this.”
We nod, one by one, grief still raw but resolve slowly taking shape.
“So,” Lowan says, voice hardening. “Back to Moirae Isle. To find Elaris.”
Our gazes turn to Remli. She lifts her chin, snorts. “Sign me up,” she says flatly, the sarcasm failing to hide the grief in her eyes. And just like that, the path stretches on before us, heavy with loss, yet moving forward.
The journey back feels automatic now. Stabling the horses.
Boarding the ship. The rocking sway of the sea.
By the time we set foot again on Moirae Isle, the Neythra family home feels almost familiar, like a circle closed.
But this time, everything is subdued, our laughter stripped away, replaced by the heavy weight of mourning.
Selene’s mother embraces each of us, her touch warm, her words quiet condolences.
That night, she weaves a wreath from moonflowers—blooms that open only beneath starlight.
Together we walk down to the shore, and with a murmur of magic, she sets the wreath adrift.
The ocean carries it out across the waves, glowing faintly until it disappears into the dark—a tribute to Sirona.
We linger here for days, needing the stillness, needing space.
Remli accepts a room in the main house, though she spends most of her time with Selene’s mother, learning to tend the griffins.
I catch her once, laughing in awe as a golden-winged male nuzzles her shoulder, and I recognize it for what it is—her grief finding somewhere to go.
For the rest of us, time drags and blurs.
Last time, it was me who came here in pieces, and Lowan who steadied me.
This time it’s different. The loss sits heavier on him, and though I ache too, I keep my hands light, my words softer.
I do not press him to speak or reach for more than he can give.
I stay close, offering silence when he needs it.