Epilogue
Raven
At first, I think I'm dreaming.
Snow falls. The creek winds through the trees, its black water moving beneath a lacework of ice that’s gathered along the edges.
Samuel is kneeling on the bank with his arms wrapped around me.
Around my body.
The realization comes slowly. Then all at once. I’m standing beside him while he’s holding me.
"No." The word leaves me on a whisper.
Below me, Samuel brushes a strand of hair from my face.
My face.
I know exactly how that touch should feel. The warmth of his hand. The roughness of his skin. The memory remains. The sensation does not.
A tear slips down Samuel's face as his forehead rests against mine.
"Come back," he whispers. "Come back to me. Please. Please, Raven."
The plea tears through me.
Not through my ears.
Somewhere deeper.
Somewhere beyond flesh and bone and breath.
Through the distance growing between us.
Like finding a heartbeat in a world where I no longer have one.
I turn back toward him. No, toward us.
And that's when I notice the light. It waits beyond the trees.
Soft.
Endless.
Ancient.
A presence moves within it.
It’s neither man nor woman.
Not anything I can name.
It feels older than the mountains. Older than the creek. Older than the stars scattered across the winter sky.
And somehow, I know it’s been waiting for me.
The voice is gentle when it comes. “Your journey is over. It’s time to come home, Raven.”
My gaze drops to Samuel.
To the man kneeling beside the creek with my body in his arms. To my husband who’s breaking apart one breath at a time.
"I won’t go."
The light brightens.
Another broken sound leaves Samuel. The kind of grief that has no language.
I close my eyes, or maybe I only remember what it feels like to close them.
"He won't survive this."
I drop beside him and reach for his face. For the familiar roughness of his jaw. The warmth of his skin. Anything. My hand passes through him. The motion steals the words from my throat.
Samuel doesn't react.
Doesn't look up.
Doesn't feel me.
I try again and get the same result.
Nothing.
Only the terrible awareness that I’m kneeling beside the man I love, and he has no idea I'm here.
"You’ve endured what was asked of you." The light pulses softly around me, wrapping me in warmth.
Somehow, I know that if I step forward, I won’t miss. I won’t grieve. Every question I've ever had will finally have an answer.
Peace waits for me there.
Samuel doesn't.
"Then why does it feel like I'm abandoning him?"
The presence drifts through the silence. "His path is not yours to walk."
I look down at Samuel.
At the man who stood beside me through sickness, and every terrifying unknown.
"I never asked him to walk it alone."
"It's time for you to let go now, Raven."
The pull of the light grows stronger.
"I can't." The words leave me in a whisper.
The warmth around me deepens. The pull strengthens.
"You must."
Another cry breaks from Samuel. The sound splinters something inside me.
My gaze snaps back to him. To the way he's clutching my body. The way grief has hollowed him out in the span of minutes.
"What happens to him now?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
Silence stretches between us.
"What happens next belongs to him."
Fear twists through me, but hope follows close behind. Because those are not the same thing.
When the voice comes again, it’s gentle. "There are paths between worlds that few are permitted to walk."
I stare at the light, not completely understanding.
But as I look down at Samuel, I become aware of something still binding us together.
A silver thread.
Fragile and yet unbreakable.
The light on one end.
My husband on the other.
And me somewhere in between.
"Go," the presence says, as the light surrounds me completely.
"I'll find my way back to you," I whisper.
Continue in Haunt Me
One of them is learning how to live.
The other is refusing to let go.
Their story continues in Haunt Me.