Epilogue
FATE
Lights flicker, a generator hums, and the tile vibrates beneath Fate. Not that she feels it. She floats along the dark corridor in silence. Decades of her duty have anesthetized her to most things. Most, but not all. Though some days, she thinks it would be better that way.
Wheels scrape behind her, and the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. Not much startles Fate. She anticipates almost everything, everyone…except them.
“What are you doing?” she asks, keeping her gaze trained ahead. She doesn’t want to see them, even though she knows they won’t be in their usual form.
“Same as you,” Time says, their voice layered, capturing the innocence of youth, the wisdom of a crone, the folly of a young man. “Working.”
“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it,” she snaps. “What are you doing with the Storms? Unfastening tethers, hiding harbingers in your lairs… You’re old enough to understand the consequences.”
“Not all consequences are bad.” Time flicks a piece of debris from their lab coat. “In fact, sometimes change is necessary.”
“Not the way you’re going about it.”
“For someone who’s always bending the rules, Elizabeth…” Time tuts, the clack of their shoes against the tile almost as unnerving as the hospital’s incessant humming, “isn’t it a bit hypocritical to be throwing stones? I thought if anyone would understand, it would be you.”
“Then help me understand.” Fate turns to face them. “Explain yourself.”
“In due time,” they say with a wink.
Twelve roman numerals flare around Time’s irises, one of the few details she uses to identify the immortal when they’re earthside.
The middle-aged doctor Time’s borrowed reaches into the pocket of their lab coat with knobby fingers and grabs the other: a bronze pocket watch.
Its face flickers beneath the buzzing light.
The trinket swoops and sways along with Fate’s insides as she tries to steady herself.
Time catches the pocket watch and waits.
One tick, two ticks, three—
Back into the pocket it goes. Just as they’re about to turn and leave, the doctor glances at the delivery bundled in Fate’s arms and sighs. “Such a romantic at heart. Even after everything.”
Fate says nothing, though her spine stiffens. There were years she believed Time to be her friend, her confidant.
Oh, how Time had made a fool of her.
The bundle shifts, her eyes drop. and when she looks back up, she’s alone.
Shaking out the unwanted interruption, she continues her walk, the flickering lights replaced by cloudy skies, incessant humming replaced by the trill of hummingbird wings. The grip on Fate’s chest recedes, like a tide along the sandy shore, and she surveys the tree line.
At the base of a lush magnolia tree, a mother and her two children sit atop a plaid blanket.
A picnic is spread over the fabric and a bouquet of foxgloves and peonies tied with a string rests against the bark.
The mother cuts them each a second slice of cake and an extra that she sets off to the side.
Her son picks up his piece with a chubby hand, bringing it to his mouth where a large streak of buttercream is caked onto his cheek.
The daughter holds her pinky out, clinking a teacup with her mother and taking a sip.
Fate feels like an intruder, witnessing such a tender gift. She’s not usually around such moments—her visits to this world mostly steeped in loss. Even today she hasn’t escaped it.
Behind the magnolia, chestnut brown fur draws her attention. The bunny sits back on its hind legs. Its nose wriggles, appraising her. A moment later, two white-and-gray ears prick up beside it.
“Happy birthday, Briar,” Fate calls over, knowing they’re the only two who’ll hear.
They disappear into the brush, shifting into their harbinger forms. The Radix jogs across the grass in denim pants and a white shirt. He’s a bit breathless when he gets to Fate, his lavender stare dropping to the bundle she’s cradling. “Whose—”
His mate comes next to him, wearing his jacket that dwarfs her fitted black dress. Her green eyes glint at the tiny lavender fist. “Ours.”
It’s not a question. A mother knows.
Just as Fate knew these two were meant to be mates…even if there were some bumps along the way.
The Radix reaches out with trembling hands. He’s no stranger to parenthood, but he’s never held one so small. So fragile. His mate comes up beside him, sweeping her finger across the babe’s cheek. He twitches and yawns.
“What do we call him?” the Radix asks. After all, Briar was given to him on this side of the veil. Something to take with him.
“Whatever you wish to.” Fate swallows down the sorrow of that memory. Sour, like so many others she’s had to witness. Despite this, she does not regret taking the mantle. She would choose this role every time. The lasting sweetness outweighs the sour bits.
The Radix glances over at his mate. It takes her a moment, but as she cradles their son for the first time, a twinkle paints her stare. “Charles.”
“A beautiful name with a beautiful origin.” Fate smiles to herself. She’s seen the ripples leading to their long-awaited reunion.
“Welcome to our family, sweet Charlie,” the Radix whispers, tickling the babe’s tummy and unfurling an Ever Briar from his palm. He spins it, the petals twisting like a dancer’s skirts, and hands it to the sprout. The babe wraps his tiny fist around it, his emerald eyes mesmerized.
And with that, Fate rewrites another tragedy.
She could easily stay and savor their joy if it were up to her. But it isn’t, as she was so rudely reminded by her overlord moments ago. She reaps what Time sows. Such is the natural course of things.
Until recently…
Whatever her former friend is brewing with the Storms, she’ll need to find out soon, because summer may tip Fate’s scale a few stones too far.
THE END