Ten
DESMOND
Traveling to Nightfall takes considerably more effort than I remember.
Not surprising.
I have been banished from my realm of birth for three hundred years.
Three hundred years of Earth.
Three hundred years of adapting to another world.
Three hundred years of convincing myself I no longer missed home.
The portal opens beneath my feet in a swirl of shadows and silver light.
And suddenly—there it is.
Nightfall.
The air itself feels different here.
Charged.
Ancient.
Magic saturates everything.
The purple sky stretches endlessly above me, the stars brighter than any found on Earth.
Silver grass sways in the distance.
The moons cast their familiar glow over the landscape.
Home.
The realization strikes unexpectedly.
Not joy.
Not sorrow.
Something stranger.
Nostalgia.
Bitterness.
Grief.
Relief.
All of it is tangled together.
I am not certain how I should feel.
And honestly?
I am not looking forward to seeing the Prime.
For centuries, I have imagined this moment.
Sometimes I imagined strangling him.
Sometimes thanking him.
Mostly avoiding him entirely.
Still, one does not ignore a summons from the ruler of Nightfall.
I make my way toward the palace.
Nothing has changed.
And yet everything has.
The halls bustle with life.
Demons laugh.
Children run through corridors.
Flowers bloom where once there were battle scars.
Hope lingers in the air.
Strange.
Very strange.
When I finally enter the throne chamber—I stop.
Because it isn't one throne.
It's eight.
And seated upon them—well, I know four faces immediately.
Lord Alaric.
Lord Kael.
Lord Thorne.
Lord Dagan.
The Lords of Air, Water, Fire, and Earth.
And beside each male—a female.
Human females.
Or at least they appear human.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I immediately bow low.
“Do you know why you've been summoned?” Lord Alaric asks.
His voice carries the same authority I remember.
Though unlike the old Prime, there is warmth beneath it.
I shake my head.
“No, my Lord. I do not understand.”
Lord Kael smiles.
“You are not in trouble.”
Excellent.
A wonderful beginning.
Lord Thorne leans forward.
“The old Prime fell during battle.”
Shock nearly sends me staggering backward.
The old Prime.
Dead?
Lord Dagan continues.
“It has taken us many years to wrest control of Nightfall from those who wished to see our world destroyed.”
Beside him, the beautiful female seated at his side squeezes his hand.
His mate.
And isn’t that remarkable?
“But we have prevailed,” Lord Alaric says proudly. “The four of us now rule alongside our mates.”
One of the women smiles warmly.
“We're reviewing old cases,” she says.
A human female speaking from a throne in Nightfall.
Three hundred years ago that would have caused riots.
I rather like it.
Lord Alaric's gaze settles upon me.
“It seems, Desmond of Crestfall, that you were punished unjustly for the crimes of your father.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Unjustly.
For three hundred years.
Three.
Hundred.
Years.
“We have lifted the banishment,” Lord Dagan says. “And are very pleased to welcome you home.”
Home.
Three centuries ago those words would have meant everything to me.
Everything.
But now?
Now they mean very little.
Because home isn't a place anymore.
Home is a person.
Home is Josie.
I smile.
And for perhaps the first time in my life, I decline something I once desperately wanted.
“My Lords and Ladies, I thank you for your generosity.”
I bow respectfully.
“But I have no wish to leave Earth.”
The four Lords blink.
Even their mates look surprised.
“You don't?” Lord Kael asks.
I cannot help smiling.
“No.”
My grin widens.
“You see… I have just found my mate.”
Four male grins immediately appear.
Four female smiles bloom.
The entire room practically lights up.
Lord Thorne actually pumps his fist.
“Yes!” he shouts.
His mate laughs.
“Told you.”
Lord Alaric rises from his throne.
“Then congratulations are—”
Pain.
Agony.
The matebond—still fragile and new—feels as though it’s breaking.
“Myrrin,” I murmur.
The joy inside me vanishes.
Replaced with heartbreak.
Hers.
Next is terror and loneliness.
And it is agony.
Unbearable agony.
My knees hit the floor.
“Josie,” I whisper louder.
The room erupts.
The Lords leap to their feet.
“What happened?” Lord Dagan demands.
I clutch my chest.
Gods.
She's hurting.
“Not sure. The bond. It’s straining,” I choke out.
Something—understanding perhaps—dawns instantly on the faces of the mated couples.
Phoebe rises from beside Lord Kael, her hand flying to her chest.
“Oh, no.”
Jules looks devastated on my mate's behalf.
“She can't feel you,” she whispers softly.
The words slice through me.
Can't feel me.
My sweet Myrrin.
Alone.
Frightened.
Believing I left her.
Believing I abandoned her.
The mere thought sends agony crashing through me.
I surge to my feet.
Wild.
Panicked.
Unthinking.
“My apologies.”
Shadows already gather around my body.
I do not care that I stand before the rulers of Nightfall.
I do not care that I have just been pardoned after three hundred years.
I do not care that I am home for the first time in centuries.
None of it matters.
Nothing matters except Josie.
“I must go.”
Lord Alaric rises as well.
His expression is sympathetic.
“Desmond—yes. But the portals are closed. You must wait for them to reopen.”
The words do not register.
“What?”
“Once the second moon passes the celestial star field,” Lord Kael explains carefully, “a couple of hours at most.”
A couple of hours.
A couple of hours?
No.
No.
Absolutely not.
My mate is crying.
I can feel it.
Her grief.
Her despair.
The terrible emptiness where my presence should be.
And she does not understand.
She is human.
She thinks this departure means forever.
Gods.
She thinks I am gone.
And the realization almost destroys me.
My knees hit the marble floor hard enough to crack stone.
A strangled sound tears from my throat.
Not a roar.
Not at first.
A sob.
Three hundred years of loneliness taught me how to survive.
But one day with Josie has taught me I never truly lived before her.
“Myrrin,” I whisper brokenly.
I see her in my mind.
Curled beneath the blankets.
Smiling in her scrubs.
Laughing when I called her the hottest girl in existence.
The way she snorts when she's truly amused.
The tears in her eyes when she realized I loved her.
And now—
Now she is hurting.
Because of me.
I throw my head back.
And the sound that erupts from me shakes the throne room itself.
A Demon's heartbreak howl.
Ancient.
Full of grief.
The chandeliers tremble.
The banners whip violently.
Even the shadows recoil.
“NOOOOOOO!”
Silence follows.
No one speaks.
No one moves.
Because every mated being in the room understands exactly what this pain means.
Lord Dagan's mate wipes tears from her eyes.
Phoebe openly cries.
Even Lord Thorne looks stricken.
But I barely see them.
All I see is Josie.
My mate.
My heart.
My home.
Hold on, Myrrin.
Please hold on.
I'm coming back to you.
I swear it.
Nothing in Heaven, Hell, or Nightfall itself will keep me from returning to you.