CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE #3
The Oracle looked upon him with so much pity that he nearly shrank back.
“Your history. For eternity your souls have sought one another. Every time Nyssa is put into another body, you, dearest Evryn, find your way to her and her to you.” She sighed and drummed her fingers on the boulder.
She had called him Evryn long, long ago, but the name stuck with him, like it fit somehow.
Maybe because it was his second name, given by his mum.
“And you two,” she continued, her voice low, sad, “were never intended to be like this. You were always meant to decimate each other.” She pinched the crystal between her fingers.
“But the two of you, no matter how many times you are pitted against one another, you always fall in love. Every single time. There is not one lifetime in which you do not fall.”
His blood slogged in his veins as he stared at her. “What does that mean for us?”
Zyphira shook her head. “Without my intervention, you will be trapped in this loop forever. Though meddling in these sorts of things will surely bring catastrophic consequences, I will pay for it. Because every time you fail, I see a clear path to setting things right. The future cannot continue in this cycle. It must end.” She extended her hand and held it open for his. “Will you help me end the cycle?”
He nodded and put his hand in hers.
???
Scattered images flashed.
When he saw her in Bellamere, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A goddess. An angel. And he was in so much trouble.
When he’d met her in Malheim, led her to a pub to chat, but she’d bolted into the crowd.
The chase had been exhilarating, a challenge—no one challenged him, let alone met his eyes.
But she wasn’t scared of him like everyone else.
And when he touched her, even through his gloves, he felt it everywhere.
When he’d taught her to swim. When she rose from the water, hair damp, those tiny clothes clinging to her every perfect curve and—
He shouldn’t look. He would scold himself each time.
He could do anything but look at her. This was a dangerous game, sure to end in disaster.
But drawn like a pathetic, desperate man, he’d decided he would destroy himself and sacrifice anything for her to see him as he truly was.
Even if it meant losing everything, including his dwindling sanity.
When they watched the vision of them in the labyrinth making love.
He couldn’t blame her disgust. He was a beast, a monster, scarred and mutilated not only on the outside, but on the inside, too.
Every bit of him was twisted, wrong, and raw.
He would never be worthy of her. Not her time, not a glance.
And he needed to curb this hunger inside him.
As he watched them on that bed, he didn’t know what came over him, but he took the chance. He kissed her. And she kissed him back. Something stirred in his chest, something long forgotten, but he clung to it. Even if it was only a dream.
When they played piano together, he hadn’t once looked at the keys.
When he cinched her into that corset. Between the lace and stockings, she would surely be his end. And then he’d watched her dance. She didn’t belong with anyone else. She belonged in his lap. In his arms.
And he’d broken. He’d given in like the weak, vile, despicable man he was.
He kissed her, tasted her blood, and it was ecstasy, the only right thing in his entire existence. He said those words, willed his soul forward, and he didn’t know what it meant, but the bond formed on her hand.
She was his, he just didn’t know how to explain it.
When she claimed she wanted him, just for one night, he couldn’t only have her once. He needed her infinitely. But he would take what she would give. He would fight for her. He would be hers, even if she would never truly be his.
When the crystal shattered and revealed all the memories it had cost.
Everything threaded together into the tapestry of their love.
Him falling for her all over again.
A second chance at their story.
Emmery's eyes sprang open to find herself in the garden once more, no longer seeing through Dez’s memories. Heart in her throat, she scrambled for his letter and read his last words.
Emmery stared into the garden. Everything he had shown her in those memories sourced new pain but also contained answers she’d searched her whole life for. If only she could decode them.
Her unblemished face in his memories, his mysterious bargain terms to bring her back, his deal with Zyphira for the crystal, and Thellonius’s plan—
She didn’t know what any of it meant, not for certain. Dez’s answers had only spurred more questions. And now he wasn’t here to ask.
One sure thing, however, burned inside her: Dez had bartered his magic, his freedom, and been mutilated by those thorns for a century. For her. After all he’d given and endured, this wouldn’t be how things ended.
As she clutched the letter to her chest, and a raging inferno sparked within her, a plan formed in her mind.
Fuck the gods.
Fuck the fates.
Fuck all of this.
She would get him back. Even if she had to rewrite the Ballad of Beginnings.