Chapter Fifty-Seven
I cursed the eight kingdoms to keep the gods away.
To keep Hades away.
From her.
Tabitha Wysteria
The instant Vera crumpled, the battle ended as though the world itself had exhaled.
Witches and warlocks froze where they stood before dissolving into coils of green smoke, vanishing like ghosts into the ether.
The dead, those silent, loyal soldiers bound to Mal’s call, bowed deeply towards her in reverence before fading too, their forms drifting apart like mist on a morning breeze.
Mal sank back against the cold stone wall, her chest rising and falling in slow, uneven rhythm as her gaze fixed on the lifeless body sprawled a few feet away.
Ash had already withdrawn the sword, its steel cleansed of blood, and now he sat quietly beside her.
Neither spoke, their eyes drawn inexorably to the woman who had moments ago been their enemy, their problem, their pain.
Ash reached for her hand, roughened by battle yet trembling faintly, and wrapped his own around it with deliberate tenderness. Mal closed her eyes, leaning her weary head against his shoulder, letting his familiar warmth still the tremors running through her soul.
They sat in silence for what felt like hours, time losing all definition as dusk bled slowly into night.
It had been so long since she had been this near to him, so long that she could not even recall how many months had slipped away.
And yet, now, it felt as though no time had passed at all.
His presence was an anchor, an unspoken balm against the vast, unrelenting uncertainty of the world.
‘When will it stop?’ she asked, tongue dragging across her parched lips.
‘It won’t,’ Ash said softly. ‘Not yet.’
Mal laid her free hand over her stomach, as though by touch alone she could shield what lay within. ‘How do I keep her safe?’
Ash glanced down to her hand, his attention lingering there for a moment before a deep, heavy sigh escaped him.
He shifted, moving to kneel before her, cupping her face gently in both blood-stained palms. ‘You, her, and me,’ he whispered, his voice breaking ever so slightly, ‘are all that ma-matters in this world, Mal.’
Her hands lifted, covering his, tears slipping unbidden down her cheeks as his warmth cradled her face.
‘Everything we do,’ he continued, leaning his forehead against hers in quiet devotion, ‘is for us.’
Mal wished she could halt the tears, wished she could be steel and stone as she had been taught to be, but fear clutched at her heart with merciless fingers.
She kept her forehead pressed against Ash’s, clinging to his warmth as though it might keep her from shattering, all while trying, failing, not to glance at Vera’s still form lying cold in the shadows beside them.
‘I don’t know how to do this,’ she whispered, voice trembling like a frayed thread about to snap. ‘I don’t know how to save us.’
Ash’s lips brushed gently against hers, a fleeting ghost of warmth that deepened into something raw and desperate.
Her tears touched their tongues, a taste of grief and salt mingling with the hunger in his kiss.
His hands slid to the curve of her neck, fingers tightening as though he could hold her together by touch alone.
When they finally broke apart, breath mingling in the charged silence, golden eyes met purple, and Mal knew, with bone-deep certainty, that what awaited them was far darker than anything behind.
‘You are the strongest wo-woman I know,’ Ash said, gently tucking a strand of her raven hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering just a second too long.
‘What if I’m not strong enough?’ Her voice cracked, her hands clinging to his as if letting go might send her into the abyss.
‘Do you trust me?’ he asked, his voice scarcely more than a breath, those golden eyes searching hers like a man clinging to faith itself.
Logic should have told her to run, to shatter the fragile chain binding her fate to his.
And yet, something deeper, whether curse or truth etched into her soul long before she was born, knew she would burn the world to cinders for him.
She would lay her life in his hands and smile as the flames consumed them both.
Their love might make no sense to anyone else, but it was theirs, terrible and sacred and irrevocable.
Cursed and bound to love each other for eternity.
‘I trust you, Ash Acheron,’ she breathed, her words an oath and a surrender.
Ash leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered the truth, the shadowed future awaiting them, the pain they would endure, and the sacrifice demanded of them both.
And Mal’s heart broke, quietly, completely, like glass giving way under unbearable weight.
…
Mal helped Ash and Adriana guide Vera’s body into the dark, murmuring waters of the marshland river.
A sacred rite among witches, who believed the current bore their dead to the next turning of life.
Yet as Mal stood on the sodden edge, her gaze fixed upon pale, spectral hands rising from the depths to cradle Vera and draw her beneath, she knew the witch’s soul did not rest there.
Vera’s spirit lingered elsewhere, hidden, unreachable.
‘The wall is still broken,’ Adriana said quietly, her voice catching on the mist.
‘Vera… broke it with ma-magic,’ Ash replied, his stutter softened but still there, a ghost of strain in his voice.
‘So we can leave?’ Adriana’s tone carried a rare note of hope.
Ash nodded.
Mal’s fingers found his, her thumb brushing over his knuckles with a gentleness that ached.
‘And you?’ Adriana asked, her eyes narrowing with something unspoken. ‘Will you return with us?’
Mal turned her face towards Ash, grief tightening her chest as the truth settled in her throat.
She shook her head. ‘No. I must return to the Underworld…to learn how to become the God-Killer.’ She released Ash’s hand and stepped closer to Adriana, her stare softening.
‘One day, I hope we may sit and speak of your truth and mine.’
Adriana stiffened, shadows flickering in her eyes.
‘But not today,’ Mal said gently. ‘I will not ask why you walk in a wyverian body, or why fate has tangled your path with this one. You are still Adriana to me, my sister’s dearest friend. That is the only truth I need to hold.’
Before Adriana could shape a response, Mal turned away, boots sinking softly into the marsh soil. She halted only when Ash caught up to her, his hands pulling her into a fierce, grounding embrace.
‘I want to stay with you,’ she whispered against his shoulder.
‘I know,’ he breathed, his voice warm against her hair.
‘I’m tired of us always being apart.’
Ash smiled. A rare, quiet smile that carried both sorrow and devotion, one that made her heart clench painfully. ‘Even when we are far, we are still t-together, Mal. You and I. In this l-life and the next.’
Mal reached for him, her lips brushing his in a kiss soft and trembling, hesitant until Ash’s arms tightened around her, pulling her into him as if she were the only anchor he had left.
His tongue swept into her mouth, stealing her breath, scattering her thoughts like autumn leaves in a storm.
His lips on hers burnt with a desperate tenderness, a moment she wanted to drown in and never surface from.
When he pulled away, the absence felt suffocating, an ache deep and hollow.
Mal forced her hands to still at her sides, because if she touched him again, she would never let go.
She needed to do what he had told her, for their sake, for the day they might finally carve out a sliver of peace together.
Golden eyes met purple, and the world blurred into nothing.
For the briefest moment, Mal imagined another life, one untouched by curses, gods, or grim destinies.
A quiet world where a wild-hearted wyverian girl had simply met a drakonian boy, and his silence wrapped around her like a soft blanket at night, keeping her safe.
A world where her untamed fire gave light to his shadows, and his calm steadied her storms.
A tear slid down her cheek as she looked at her husband, uncertain when next their paths would cross, or what horrors might await them before they did.
‘We were never the heroes of this tale, Mal,’ Ash said, sorrow etching deep lines into his face. ‘We were always the vi-villains.’
Mal closed her eyes and surrendered to the pull of the Underworld, the earth opening beneath her feet, swallowing her whole into the waiting arms of the dead.