CHAPTER TWELVE
I didn’t sleep that night. I just lay there, counting the cracks in the ceiling. At dawn, Will would come for me, and then he would leave. I couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. At some point, my thoughts drifted back to when we were kids.
Licia and Aran were crossing an old bridge near Red Creek.
The river ran through town, usually tinged slightly red.
People said it was because the butcher dumped blood there, but I never knew if that was true.
Everyone still called it the Red Creek though, rumor or not.
And Aran always loved coming up with new dares, new challenges.
The kind that usually ended with someone crying, or limping home.
Will and I were watching from the hill. Or shouting, really, telling the both of them to stop being idiots, then Will nudged my arm.
I turned, and he was holding a small wildflower toward me.
“For me?” I asked.
He didn’t look at me. Just kept his eyes on the bridge.
“Thought it was pretty,” he said. “Thought you’d like it.”
That was it. Just a flower, just Will being… Will.
I slipped out of bed and rummaged through the mess in my wardrobe, shoving clothes aside, reaching for the hidden stack of books at the back. My hand closed around an old storybook, it had a pink cover, of a princess with a silver crown.
I opened it gently, turning page after page, until I found it.
The flower.
Pressed flat and more fragile, but still beautiful.
I tore a page from the book, folded it and tucked the flower inside, just before I heard footsteps outside.
Will was waiting by the fence, and when I first saw him, I flinched. The silver caught the light wrong, and my mind saw Arche. But it wasn’t him. Will’s armor was a lighter, muted silver and there was no Eye embossed on it. It fit him too well to be stolen.
The reins were looped loose between his fingers, and his shoulders were tense, but his eyes still found mine. A horse stood at his side, shifting restlessly. The poor thing had no idea it was walking into slaughter.
A dozen horses and riders waited by the road. I caught sight of Eryx, and the sword strapped to his back.
A real one, but the Eredians would cut him down before he ever got close enough to swing it. And I saw Jorek, he was quieter than usual. Two rifles crossed his shoulders, and a satchel hung from his saddle, clinking faintly as he shifted. They all looked ready. Or maybe they just wanted to be.
I hoped Will was. Gods, I hoped he was. That he’d tightened every strap, every buckle, and armed himself to the teeth.
I couldn’t bear to lose him too.
He had to survive.
But deep down, I think I knew it would be the last time I’d ever see them. Any of them.
The road was soft with morning fog, and I kept glancing at his hand. I wanted to take it, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let go.
“Please, stay?” I begged. I’d been doing a lot of that the past few days.
“The Wardens need us,” he said. ”You know I can’t.”
I need you too.
I nodded, even though what I really wanted to do was tie him up, drag him back to my house, slam the door and never let him leave.
“They might come back,” I said. "The Eredians.”
He didn’t hesitate. “They will.”
“When you find them…” I started.
“I won’t give them quick deaths,” he said.
I didn’t think of myself as cruel. Not Will either. We were soft. Kind. Helpful. But I still wanted it. I wanted them to suffer.
I reached for his sleeve and pulled him toward me. I thought even about telling him. He didn’t know about Arche. About what happened in the alley the night before. Sometimes I wonder if it would’ve changed things, if he’d known.
Would he have stayed? Chosen to protect me instead?
Or would he have gone anyway, burning with a different kind of purpose, to find Arche and kill him? And then what? Would that fury have made him reckless? Gotten him killed?
I told myself it was better not to tell. Let him go with a clear head, give him the best chance at staying alive.
“I can’t lose you too,” I whispered.
Will turned to face me. His eyes were tired.
“I have to go,” he said gently. ”But I’ll be back.”
I wanted to scream. Einar was already gone. Licia too. Even Aran. And now Will. Everyone I cared for was slipping through my fingers, one by one.
Was I selfish for wanting him to choose me over our country?
Probably. But I didn’t care.
“What if it’s not enough?” I asked. My voice cracked. “What if you all die? What if they feast on your flesh?”
He gave me a small smile. “They don’t actually eat people, Kera.”
“Doesn’t mean they won’t kill you,” I said.
He stepped closer, rested a hand on my shoulder.
“We’re doing this for you. For our families. For our home.”
I reached into the pocket of my coat, pulled out the piece of paper I’d tucked the flower into.
Will blinked. “What’s that?”
I hesitated.
“Thought it was pretty,” I recited, as if his former words were sacred scripture. “Thought you might like it.”
He squinted at the flower, confused. Then his eyes widened.
“No…” he breathed, flushing. “Oh gods. What was I, like nine?”
“Something like that,” I murmured. “Aran and Licia were crossing the old bridge, remember?”
He let out a soft laugh. “Those idiots…”
Then he went quiet. His gaze stayed on the flower.
“You…kept it?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “I thought maybe it would bring you luck.”
He looked at me, not like a soldier, not like someone leaving for war, but like that same boy again. The one who couldn’t look me in the eye when he handed me a flower. The one who tried to show he cared in the only way he knew how.
Gods, I didn’t want to lose him. And I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what might’ve happened if I’d just reached for him.
So I did.
He looked at me, eyes wide and still. Ocean blue, and full of things he hadn’t said yet. Gods, I could drown in those eyes.
Maybe I already had.
My fingers brushed his cheek, then curled gently along his jaw. He didn’t move. His skin was warm beneath my palm, his jaw clean cut. He was so close I could feel the heat of him.
I looked into his eyes like I was trying to memorize them. Not just the color, but the way they softened when they looked at me. The way they said what he never dared to.
I didn’t want to forget this. I couldn’t.
So I leaned in, slow and steady, and I kissed him.
It was soft at first. Hesitant. The barest press of my lips against his, like asking permission. Then his hand rose to my face, his fingers brushing my cheek, settling just beneath my jaw.
And he kissed me back.
His lips moved with mine, slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize me too. Like he was trying to hold on to something he already knew he’d have to let go of.
His thumb grazed my cheekbone. I melted into his touch, into him.
The world faded until there was only us.
Us, and a kiss that tasted like goodbye.
“Come on, lover boy!” Jorek’s voice rang out from the road. ”Let’s go.”
I would’ve stayed in that moment forever if I could.
But the world snapped back into place, and Will reluctantly pulled away. He mounted his horse and I just stood there, breathless, blinking against the sting in my eyes.
“Promise you’ll come back.”
He’d said it before, I just needed to hear it again.
Will met my eyes from the saddle.
“I will always come back to you.”
───── ????? ─────
We walked to the cemetery the morning of the wake.
The path was narrow and familiar, winding through the birch trees.
Their white trunks rose up around us, tall and quiet, branches swaying gently overhead.
The air shifted the moment we stepped under them.
Cooler. Still. Like even the wind knew how to grieve.
The cemetery sat at the edge of the village, tucked into a shallow dip in the land where the trees gave way to open sky. The ground was uneven, covered in grass that had grown too long, dotted with old headstones that leaned slightly in the dirt.
The whole village was already there. People stood in small groups, some holding candles, others clutching flowers. I saw Mrs. Holt standing with her hands clutched in front of her, next to Isak’s parents. Idalie was there too.
She stepped forward and walked to the graves, carrying two white roses.
There were headstones by the head of the graves, rough and uneven and gray, names yet to be carved.
She knelt and placed a rose on each one, sniffling her tears.
A moment later, someone else placed one down.
Then another. One by one, white roses began to appear across the graves. Quiet offerings. Quiet grief.
And me—
I had the heart. The one Isak carved for Einar years earlier.
The one that said always yours.
I knelt and set it down in the dirt.
I didn’t say anything. There were no words for how I felt. How lost I was without him. I hoped that if there was a life after this one, he’d find Isak there. And that this time, they could love each other without fear.
In the middle of the cemetery stood the statue of Vheris—the goddess of life and death. Her arms were stretched open, welcoming the dead back home. Moss grew thick around her feet, and ivy wrapped around her like a shroud.
My mother had told me all about her. About all the gods. She said Vheris created life itself. That she held us when we were born, and again when we died. She didn’t judge. Didn’t punish. Vheris remembered. She grieved and she forgave.
If any god was real, I hoped it was her.