Chapter Forty-Five
Hyacinth
Creeeeeaaaaaak. Snap-snap-snap. Creak.
Hyacinth crawled out of the hole beneath the tree, following the amber light of a setting sun through the dangling branches of her willow.
Her nails were caked in damp soil as she clawed up the last few inches.
Knees pressed into soft moss, little flowers blooming around her as a welcome.
You’re back! You’re alive! Like they were cheering her on.
Hyacinth climbed to her feet, stretching out her back.
With a few delightful snaps and cracks, she felt her body relax once more. Her muscles warmed with new life.
Well…new undeath.
New dead-life?
She baked happily in the setting sun and tried not to think about what it meant to have healed her undead body.
Movement caught her attention and a soft giggle trickled out of her.
Hyacinth knelt beside Austin as he shifted in his sleep.
Wrapped up in a blanket of moss and leaves, baby’s breath opening around him and scenting the air.
Roses and black dahlias bloomed outside the willow, welcoming her home.
Austin snorted in his sleep before letting his head lull to the side again.
Hyacinth pushed up on her knees, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
He was warm and slightly damp from sleep, obviously having sat out here in shade of the tree all day.
“Knock, knock…” A soft, feminine voice filtered through the tree branches behind her.
Hyacinth turned, her wings knocking some of the dancing foliage aside.
She stared at a woman lingering outside the fence.
Hyacinth climbed to her feet, ducking out of the tree.
A dark-haired woman in a purple dress with a belt of potion bottles stepped up to the fence.
The crow perched on her shoulder cawed loudly before setting its three eyes on Hyacinth.
Whoever she was, she smiled broadly and gave a sweet, swift wave. “Hello.”
“Hello?” Hyacinth asked, stepping out into the sunset.
The woman’s once teasing smile fell. Not to a frown, but to a sad, heartbroken smile. “You are not Sabine.”
“No,” Hyacinth sighed, shaking her head.
Stepping out further in her dress made of moss and flower petals, her wings stretching out behind her.
As she approached the fence, the woman’s back illuminated with similar looking wings.
Though, they were not bone, but frames with gray, thorny vines.
Their stained window wings fluttered together, filling the air with little, glittering particles. “My name is Hyacinth.”
“It’s nice to meet you Hyacinth,” the fae woman from the other side of the fence murmured, eyes softening. “I am Persephone.”
“How could you tell I wasn’t her?” Hyacinth asked, wrapping her fingers around one of the bars in the fence.
Persephone matched her pose, her long fingers curling around the black iron.
It took Hyacinth a long time, studying the woman from the slight widow’s peak of her hair, the purple of her eyes, and even Persephone’s cupid’s bow.
The more she stared, the more she felt a connection. “We are related.”
“Sabine was my sister,” Persephone chuckled the way someone who has lost a loved one laughs, more sad than joyous, but the memory was still pleasant. “Long ago.”
“I didn’t know she had siblings,” Hyacinth exhaled.
“Sabine was older. Our mother was what one would call a traditionalist. So afraid of her children becoming what she deemed were lesser beings, that she practically drove all of my sisters from our home with her iron fist. Sabine left first, but she wasn’t content to stay here, in the waking world, until she met that Hunter in the woods.
” Persephone’s gaze fell to the ground where little rings of mismatched mushrooms popped up around them.
“I felt her change. I felt it when she cut off connection to our realm.”
“When she became a grove witch,” Hyacinth added, lungs tight.
Persephone’s eyes rose to meet Hyacinth, a sparkle back in them as she gazed at the face of her dead sister. “They’re not born. Grove witches are made. I thought it was one of mother’s tales to frighten us from making homes in the human realm.”
“But Sabine chose to cut herself off. To claim this place as her home.” Hyacinth nodded.
Her finger tapped against the metal of the fence between them.
She could invite her in, ask her to join Hyacinth on this side of the fence.
Remove the distance between two sisters so long apart, but something stopped her.
There was a sensation that felt distinctly like Sebastian that told her no.
Fine…I’ll just… meet her on the other side of the fence then.
Hyacinth was the grove witch of these woods now, anyway.
All of the Haunted Forest was her grove.
“Not just her home, but her tomb. Something you’ll come to realize, Hyacinth.
A grove witch’s curse is that her power is infinite.
You could rip that city apart, turn them all into fertilizer, rend that city into nothing but rubble.
But you can never leave. You’ve struck your claim here, and here you will stay.
Sabine lived here in her isolation and loneliness, letting that heartache fester till it drove her mad.
I tried many times to come to talk to her, but there was nothing I could do.
Her power was here, as was her soul, and she could never escape.
And had that dragon desecrated this place, she would have never survived.
So long as that willow stands, so will you… until the day when this realm ends.”
Hyacinth’s lips curled up on her face. It was so soothing to take her hand and cup Persephone’s against that iron bar, squeezing as she spoke, “I know. This is my home. It’s always been my home. And I’ll be here, watching over it, just like Sebastian does.”
“Good.” Persephone let out another wounded chuckle. She speared a hand through the fence to brush Hyacinth’s dirty hair out of her face and cupped her cheek. Hyacinth pressed into Persephone’s palm, smiling brighter. She’s grieving her lost sister. The least I can do is give her this.
There was a sense of familiarity within Persephone.
But then Persephone let out a shaky breath. “Tell that sweet boy thank you for putting her out of her misery.”
“I will.” Hyacinth didn’t know why she welled up, but she licked her dry lips and nodded despite the few tears that trickled down her face. “Persephone, what about you? Are you a grove witch too?”
“Oh no,” Persephone chuckled, patting Hyacinth on the cheek. She shook her head, little wisps of inky smoke flying off her and into the sky. Her crow clacked his beak at one of them that escaped him. “No, I am something entirely…worse.”
“What is that?” Hyacinth giggled, beyond curious. She watched Persephone step away from the gate. She leaned on a gnarled wooden staff, the obsidian wisps dancing in and out of it.
Persephone grinned from pointed ear to pointed ear, her teeth razor sharp and glinting in the sunset.
As the light died a little more behind the horizon, Hyacinth watched eyes open up all over Persephone.
All throughout her wings, across the back of her hands, at the center of her chest, along her skirt, and dancing within her inky wisps.
As the eyes closed up, Persephone winked at Hyacinth.
“Now, that is a story for over a long, luxurious feast and lots, and lots, of wine.”
“I’d love that. I’ll make a picnic for us; we can have it in the woods. I can show you where I burned down the temple of those awful clerics…and you can tell me about Sabine and yourself.” Hyacinth lingered in front of the canopy of her willow’s branches.
Persephone bent backward at the waist, cackling from deep in the belly. “Now that’s the spirit! You have to meet my granddaughter, Hazel. She’ll adore you! And we can have a girl’s night, braid each other’s hair, poison someone else’s tea, and talk about boys!”
Hyacinth snorted but made no comment, for she wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or if the strange woman beyond the fence truly meant it.
Persephone winked once more, and then was gone in a puff of inky smoke.
Hyacinth couldn’t remove the smile from her lips even if she tried.
So, she turned and ducked back into her willow.
She found Austin stirring. Hyacinth tiptoed over to him, settling into his lap as he shrugged off his blanket of moss.
“Good morning,” he hummed.
“Evening,” she corrected with a grimace.
“Time is an illusion.” Austin shrugged.
“Now who sounds like Smith?” Hyacinth teased, cocking her head to the side. “How do you know time is an illusion? Can you see it?”
Austin beamed, wrapping his arms around her waist. He dragged her up his body till her belly was against his, and her knees pressed into the roots of her willow. “All I know is when I’m with you, time is irrelevant.”
Hyacinth brushed the fallen petals and leaves off the top of his head gently with the side of her hand.
Then she draped her arms around his shoulders like a well loved scarf.
His red gaze roamed her face, memorizing her.
Those happy little moths returned to her belly and she had to admit she missed them.
Hyacinth exhaled dreamily, “I love you.”
He squeezed her tight against his chest. “I love you too.”
“Thank you,” she leaned her forehead against his, “for saving me.”
Austin let out a wheezy chuckle. “You may need to thank Smith too. He’s the one who lit the tree on fire. I just distracted Sabine.”
“But you talked her down. You’re so good at that. Talking to people and making them feel seen. Making them feel like a person.” She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Hmm, what’s the good luck for?” The sound rumbled up his chest and echoed off the swaying branches around them.
“For when we go inside and have to apologize for Sabine, again.” Her hands brushed across his skin.
Over his jaw till she cupped his cheeks and held him there for a moment.
Just so she could admire him in the golden rays of a setting sun.
She wanted to knit something that was the same color as at that moment.
She wanted something green like the moss, maybe a pale mint like Austin, with gold and reds and dusty pink.
Maybe a blanket for him to use when he’s sitting under this tree.
She didn’t intend to get hurt again, but maybe one day they’d both sit under her tree and enjoy a sunset. Or maybe he’d sit here and wait for her while she went to meet Persephone in the woods. The possibilities were endless and she couldn’t wait to explore all of them.
“Don’t worry, I made pudding,” Austin chortled.
“Does pudding have magical forgiving properties?” Hyacinth scrunched her brow in confusion.
“It does. Just wait, you’ll see. I’ve even got cherries and whipped cream for it.
Or I will, after I make more. I’ll probably need to whip up a delicious dinner and appetizer too.
I’ve got a lot of apologizing to do. But if there’s something that all Rosemont’s share is food as a love language.
” He spoke with his hands, flapping every which way, but always ending up touching her.
Holding her. Grounding her so that she felt attached to her body and comforted by his embrace.
Hyacinth giggled, nodding in agreement as he climbed to his feet.
Taking Hyacinth with him and putting her on his hip, he walked the pair inside.
Like he said, they had some talking to do with their family.
She needed to tell their maker about Persephone, about Sabine, about everything he missed while he was resting.
And Austin promised pudding, something she was very interested in finding out about.
But just in case… She grew a bundle of roses, dahlias, and hyacinths for Austin to bring inside. Flowers make everything better, in my opinion. And Austin agrees! She smiled at him as he tucked one of them behind her ear, the stem growing around her head until she was wearing a crown of them.
“My flower,” he murmured, kissing her once more. It felt like a romance book. Or, at least, that’s what Greggory made her think romance books felt like. She’d yet to read one, but it was on her next list of things to experience. Romance was something she knew well.
She’d been romanced…wooed, so to speak. Austin wooed her from the very beginning. She didn’t even realize, she’d done it right back.
If someone asked her how one woos the undead, Hyacinth couldn’t give any advice.
Too straight forward, she believed herself to be...
Too na?ve in the ways of the world, and lacking a certain understanding of what sarcasm actually was.
Hyacinth wasn’t sure she could explain the logistics.
But if she had to put her finger on it, she’d say it takes a certain amount of curiosity.
A little graveyard soil, quality body parts, and a fresh heart wouldn’t hurt.
Squonk tears are optional, but they’re good for dry eyes.
Oh! And faerie dust, it’s one of the key ingredients in making sure the dead man you love keeps his stitches tight and heart light.
You see, being undead can be lonely. It can make one’s heart so very heavy, but with the right ingredients, you can fix that.
The same ingredients conveniently found in Dahlia’s secret pudding.
Melody said she gives it two paws up, but then everyone groaned really loud and Hyacinth couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.
But she didn’t think it mattered if her family made bad puns, or made mistakes, or sometimes got it wrong.
Because those who lived in Rosemont manor were family.
Her family.
My family.
Hyacinth Rosemont, that was her name. She’d picked it out and she quite liked the sound of it. Especially off his lips. She was Hyacinth Rosemont, undead. The new and only grove witch of King’s Fall. And the love of Austin’s un-death… from that day forward till the end of time.
The end.