Chapter 56
She wept silently over him. The occasional sharp gasp slipped from her throat. She held him until all the snow melted, thawing Aterna. Until the skies were clear. Until sunlight beamed down upon the Dread Lands across the Dark Peaks.
She didn’t know how long it had been since he drew breath. How long since she’d felt his heartbeat still. Each moment she waited for the miracle of his return, a rebirth, a second chance. For his eyes to slide back open and Magic to surge through him.
But he grew cold. His wounds no longer flowed with sacrifice. They were as still as he was limp.
Reeve’s sudden presence on the mountainside sent a wave of warmth through her, an unwelcome comfort as she clutched Mal’s broken and bloodied body. He stood, just a few feet from them.
Maeve lashed out, throwing all her despair on him, her nostrils flaring as she looked up at Reeve. “Don’t touch him.”
Her heart squeezed tight at the sight of him.
Tears glistened in the morning sunlight as they slid down Reeve’s face. He didn’t look at her. His solemn gaze was set on Mal.
Maeve’s jaw relaxed, and she looked back down at Mal. “I want to honor him in his burial. Everyone will know what he did here today.”
Reeve nodded once. “He is honored, whether we deem it or not. But yes, Maeve. Whatever you want, it is yours to have.”
She looked back up at Reeve. His eyes were on her now.
“May I?” he asked so gently, so reverently, that more tears, impossibly more, spilled over her bottom lashes.
After a moment, she nodded, and Reeve crossed the rocky landing to them. He kneeled on the other side of Mal. He placed his hands across Mal’s forehead and whispered Magic that Maeve couldn’t recite, but, through their bond, she felt its holy intention all the same.
Reeve prayed over Mal, thanking him for his sacrifice. Thanking him for making Maeve strong enough to survive. Thanking him for Maxius, and vowing to never take his place, but to ensure Maxius knew a father’s love.
“I’m so sorry, Maeve,” he voiced at last.
Guilt slipped through her at the sincerity in his voice. His broad hand reached for her, tilting her chin up to his gaze. His touch was starkly warm, spiraling through her body and igniting her bones. Like she had forgotten his affection, his understanding, and his grace. She leaned towards him.
Their foreheads touched.
“Allow me to carry him,” said Reeve.
Maeve relaxed her hold in silent answer, and Reeve’s arms slipped around Mal’s body, lifting him with careful ease.
The sculpture stood tall, towering over them.
She’d erected it with her own Magic, ensuring every detail of Mal’s face, his fingers, and his posture were perfect.
Though the end of his rule as a monarch of the Dread Lands was fallen, Maeve would make sure his legacy remained pure.
She’d ensure the history books wrote of his sacrifice, and the valiant way he paved their future with that sacrifice.
No one argued with his honorable burial, though she kept the ceremony small.
Abraxas was at her side as Maxius laid hydrangeas across Mal’s chest. It had been tempting to bury him near her father, on Earth, but she knew his place was in the Dread Lands, laid to rest in a monument that would live forever outside Castle Morana.
A reminder to all that the era of peaceful Magic between all realms they entered was not gained or traded freely.
It was purchased with Mal’s death.
Warm sunlight brushed her face, beaming down from the clear sky above where she reclined on the balcony, far from the Celestian Palace or Castle Morana, but nestled somewhere in between the two.
An intimate home where Reeve’s laughter could be heard anywhere in the house. Where Maxius was a step away.
She looked down at Spinel, who purred in approval, his black tail curled high as he jumped into her lap. Her fingers trailed across his fur as her eyes drifted to the open doors. Sheer curtains shifted in the warm breeze, revealing Reeve with Maxius on his hip. A shared smile on their lips.
“What once was cannot always be,” she whispered to herself, “and what will be cannot always have been.”
Her darkened veins, once black and racing with Magic, sat dormant. Their coloring faded to the memory of a scar. But sometimes, when Maxius’ eyes landed on hers, or when she heard a certain melody, she felt a glimmer of Malachite Peur run through them.
THE END