Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Evander's kisses are frantic and breathy.

His mouth is as hot as our bodies—as our need. My lips part for him, as do my legs. He slides against my inner thighs, moving into a position we know all too well. We move like desperation, then relaxing into each other.

His eyes are no longer haunted. No…they are full of promise. Of intent. Of all the possibilities that we rise to meet each morning with.

I hold that gaze with my own as he pushes forward. Stretching. Filling all the way until there is no more for either of us to give. I feel him, not just in body, but mind and soul. It is everything, and yet somehow not enough. His lips move off mine, down my throat, biting my shoulder as he leans back and pulls me into his lap.

We move slower, like this. But every stroke is more accented. My flesh is aflame as his mouth encircles my breast. As he gives me teeth and claws at the same time as warmth and tenderness.

It should be forbidden to feel this good . The rogue thought is one I've had many, many times over the past few weeks as we have made our journey across Midscape. Every day of travel punctuated by nights, and sometimes mornings of passion.

I had never known it was possible to want so much, so freely and easily. To have completely, without fear of loss or rejection. The sweet serenity of a love that is as unflinching as steel, as eternal as the forces of nature.

This is where I belong. Right here. Right now, in these throes of breathless bliss. There is nowhere else for me. No past or future.

He reaches his climax before me, but ensures I am not long after. My mate has always made it a point to see that I never leave our bedroll unsatisfied.

I trail my hand through the hair that lines his chest, watching its rise and fall slow as Evander catches his breath. His arm drapes around me, pulling me closer, my head half on his shoulder as he presses his lips to my forehead.

"Are you ready?" he finally asks.

"I didn't come all this way to turn back at the last minute." I sit and begin to dress. The canvas of the tent is burnt orange with the sunset. Moonrise is soon.

Evander does the same, following me out of the tent and onto a sandy beach of pure white. Behind us is a maze of sandbars and islands. A barren and blinding land that was only easy to navigate because I had spirits to call upon for help. Though I tried to do it as little as possible. I still don't like troubling my primordial friends, whenever I can avoid it.

Ahead of us, on a distant shore, is a tree so massive that I have to crane my neck—even from here—to see the tops of its branches poking between the clouds. Evander told me of the myths of this place on our journey. The fantastical stories that shroud the very edge of siren territory in mysteries befitting of the edge of the world itself. Because, if the tales were to be believed, the Veil that separated our world from the Beyond is just over the edge of the sea. That proximity is what allows this distant, primal corner of the world to be the only place where one can hold court with the old gods.

The legends Evander told me spoke of pilgrimages to that distant tree across a sandbar, a temporary bridge to connect land with sea. But there is nothing but darkening blue barring our progress. Whitecaps dot the waves like quiet threats. This is the land of the siren and the old gods , they seem to say; all others are unwelcome .

"Are you sure the sirens won't resent us for this?" I ask as I walk to the water's edge, leaving our campsite behind and starting for where the land tapers to a natural point in the direction of the Lifetree. If there was to be a land bridge, I would bet it would be here.

"It's unclear if the tides sweeping away the land bridge were intentional or not," Evander says optimistically. I appreciate his confidence. "If they are upset, they can put it back when we're gone. But, as you said, we've come too far to turn back now."

I stare out at the distant tree as the stars bloom across the watercolor sky. The idea to travel here came to me on the first night after we left Den. I bring a hand to my chest, pressing it against my heart, where the weight of Aurora's magic still lives. I made her a promise that I would take her to the land of the siren. And while it might be too little, too late, I cannot think of any other way that I would rather have one final honoring of her memory.

Sucking in a breath, I reach into my magic, speaking with the ancient tongue of the spirits. "Gruvun of the tides, Volst of water, Brundil of earth, I call to you."

Gruvun is the churn of a vortex just offshore, two stationary white eyes in its center. Volst is a wave that lingers, rising to take a vaguely human shape. Brundil is a golem of sand that is perpetually rising and falling at my side.

"There was once a sandbar here that connected Midscape to the Lifetree. I ask for your help bringing it back to the surface."

None of them say anything, but I can feel their acquiescence. Even their approval. They disappear back into their elements, retreating. But their presence remains in the wild pulsing of magic.

The ocean churns. Whitecaps froth. Deep within the earth, there is groaning. The sand shifts, falling away as though it's melting into the waves. But Brundil is persistent. Gruvun pulls back the tides with Volst's help.

A ribbon of freshly made land stretches between us and the tree.

"Thank you," I say as I take my first steps upon it. I can still feel Gruvun and Volst expending great effort to keep the water from consuming the new sandbar. Just as I can feel Brundil continuing to shift the earth beneath, the forces of nature aligned but at inherent odds. As we walk, they begin to reach a stasis that will keep this land bridge long enough for us to return.

A reverent hush falls over Evander and me as we near the tree. Our suspicion from afar is proven right—it really does have the same silvery leaves as the trees of Den. Its roots are like a lady's hair, spilling over the beach and plunging deep, deep into the water, past the point where the fading light can reach. I see shadows moving as we near. Evander takes note of them as well. His muscles bulge, radiating tension. But the creatures beneath the waves don't surface. Not yet, at least.

A wall of the thick roots blocks our path when we reach the opposite side. I know better than to ask Brundil for help—not just because I already have. But also because I can feel the pure magic that flows through them in place of sap. It is an ancient and immense power.

Evander and I find an opening in the massive roots barely big enough for us to squeeze past. We contort and twist, navigating through. Right at the edge of irrational panic of being trapped within them forever, they end, exposing a sheltered beach.

Spears have been skewered into the sand, giving it a prickly appearance, almost like that of a porcupine. I weave through them, careful not to touch any, as they seem to be made of the same wood as the tree and I can only assume they signify some deep reverence I do not understand.

We make our way to the opposite end, where a man sits by a large blossom. He leans against one of the roots, snoring softly. I pause, staring. He has brown hair and a beard. Clothing I don't recognize but is distinctly…human. Everything about him screams, human . From his fashions, which are unseen in Midscape, to the curve of his ears. Yet, markings cover his skin, almost like the swirls of thread and delicately embroidered lines of my cape.

"Is he a siren?" Evander whispers hesitantly in my ear.

I shake my head. But I don't know what he is. My eyes tell me human. But my senses tell me…spirit? I don't know what to make of him. Perhaps he is some kind of witch like myself?

"Sir?" I ask softly. Not wanting to startle him. He continues to snore. "Sir?" A little louder.

"Kevhan is a heavy sleeper," a female voice says from behind us.

Evander and I both turn. Him a little faster. A little tenser, ready to strike. But I grab his wrist instantly the moment my eyes behold the figure sitting upon one of the petals of the massive flower. Neither of us even registered its bloom.

A faint sheen of gold coats her skin, swirling among an entire rainbow of color painted across her. Her eyes are the color of a sea on a stormy day, as if they hold all the water that surrounds this island. Gossamer wings, six in total, are more iridescent outlines that catch the last dredges of sunlight extending from her back than anything solid. Honey-gold hair falls over her shoulders, tangling with the bark that she wears like clothing. It moves as though it is part of her skin. As if she is part of the tree itself.

No…she is the tree. The rawness of her, ancient and primordial. It strikes me a second later than I would've wanted that I am before the Old Goddess of Life.

"Lady Lellia?" I whisper in awe. Evander's eyes go wide and his whole body relaxes. I think he's about to fall over from shock.

"Not quite, but close. Common mistake, though. Lady Victoria, please." The corner of her mouth quirks into a wry smile. Then she clears her throat and loudly says, "Kevhan, we have guests."

The man finally jolts awake. Sputtering and mumbling. Eyes wide with surprise.

Lady Victoria lets out bright laughter. "Some Keeper of the Lifetree you are. The first time we have outside guests, you're caught sleeping."

I didn't expect an old god to have a sense of humor. A lightness to the air around her. Rather than unsettling me, I find the oddity of it vaguely…comforting. Even though she is clearly not human, there is a humanness to her. A sense of mortality that I don't even get from the spirits and certainly did not expect to find with an old god.

"Apologies!" Kevhan stands quickly, brushing sand from his trousers. "Welcome, to…the Lifetree?" He glances in her direction, rubbing the back of his neck. "We never really went over what I was supposed to say or do."

The goddess has an outright grin now. "I wanted to see what you'd come up with. You're usually so composed."

"This is all a bit new to me, too."

"You've had nearly three years to settle into your role."

"My ‘role' usually involves lazing in the sun and enjoying the waves."

"Untrue," she counters, "I have seen you playing stones with Lucia."

"Only when you are not monopolizing her time."

Lady Victoria tosses her hair over her shoulder, shifting forward. "She can't be blamed for wanting a real challenge at stones."

Kevhan snorts and doesn't offer a rebuke.

"But I doubt you have come all this way, shifted land and sea, to play stones." Her eyes return to me, gaze settling expectantly. As if she's waiting for me to ask a question.

I am too stunned for a moment to say anything. I had imagined the interaction to be more like the ones I have had with the spirits. A sense of power—well, that's there, but also otherworldliness. I did not expect the Old Goddess of Life to banter.

"I… I made a promise." Once I start thinking about what to say, it sounds so small. "I promised someone I cared about that I would bring her here, to you. And I—" The words choke me for a second, but I force them out anyway. "—I couldn't. I failed. But I wanted to do this…as if…somehow it'd be enough."

The weight of that truth, of admitting it to this goddess as she watches me struggle through this mix of potent emotions with a patient, motherly smile, has my eyes prickling with tears.

Lady Victoria pushes away from the petal on which she sits. She seems to hover above the ground a moment before touching it. Her feet hardly move the sand.

"But you didn't fail," she says softly. "Your friend is here, isn't she?" The goddess rests her fingertips on the center of my chest.

"Only her power," I murmur, and shake my head. The spirits were the first offspring of the old gods. Primordial children, in their way. I expected this moment to be difficult, but I failed to consider the judgment I might face. Whatever it will be, though, I accept it. "I tried to keep her safe, I swear."

"We both did." Evander squeezes my fingers. "This wasn't just Faelyn's failure, but both of ours."

She hums, tilting her head. "I don't see any failure here… If anything, I think you did splendidly." Lady Victoria focuses intently on my chest. As though she is speaking directly to my heart. "It's time to come out now."

Without warning or explanation, the goddess pulls back her hand. I feel a familiar thread of magic pull from me. I see it. Moonbeams are drawn from my breastbone, curling around the goddess's fingers. She casts them off to the side, drawing a gasp as the magic spills out of me like a tipped-over bottle.

Everything goes bright, my vision blinded by light. Once more, I'm back far above the world. But this time, I'm falling. Aurora's power leaves me, and with it, so too does a greater understanding of time and space.

Glimpses of events rush past me, current, past, and future. There's a large hall, occupied by kings and queens. A celebration in a fae castle with a young child and her parents of two worlds. A festival in snowcapped mountains, overseen by a woman in a blacksmith's apron. A quiet cottage, on what side of the Fade, I cannot tell…but it feels like home. A pot simmers on the stove over Folost. Mary is in the windowsill. And in the window beyond…

I blink and it's gone.

But I saw Evander and three children playing in the tall grasses beyond. No child alike. None who have our jaws or our hair—none who came from my womb. But all undeniably ours.

As the light fades and reality crashes back into me, the last glowing strands of Aurora's magic leave my flesh. They form a familiar outline, and then light and power fill the shape. Lady Victoria twists her fingers through the air like Grandmother would twist wool into threads off her wheel. Organizing the raw essence of the world into a power that can be used and wielded.

I stagger, nearly falling. I would have, if not for Evander catching me. Kevhan murmurs a soft, "Wow," as if he has never beheld something like this either.

My eyes meet a familiar pair. Aurora is breathtaking. Her form shifts like moonlight through trees. Not quite solid. More akin to the mists of the lands Evander and I left behind.

She drifts to me, taking my cheeks in both of her hands. Her mouth opens and closes, as if to form words, but all that escapes is a melodic sound. Like faint chimes in the distance. A song, in a way, but like none I've ever heard before.

"I can't understand you." I laugh as tears spill over my cheeks. All her magic is gone from me, at long last. Returned to her as it should be. And now I can no longer speak the ancient tongue of the spirits. Aurora leans forward with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead like I kissed her in the grove when I thought it was goodbye. The sensation of her lips on my skin is little more than a cool whisper of a nighttime breeze. "But I think I know what you mean… All will be well now, won't it?"

Aurora locks eyes with me and blinks once. Yes .

She turns to Evander next, emitting the same incoherent melody, then kissing his forehead. She gives me one more look, wearing a smile I have never seen her have before. Brighter than any I could imagine her to make. As pure as the moon itself.

In a blink, she's gone. Returned home. Evander wraps an arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple, as we stare at the moon that seems to shine brighter than it ever has before.

"What now?" he whispers.

"I think…we should find a cottage of our own." My cheeks ache from the spread of my smile, and the future that is before us all.