26. Chapter 26

Rowan

A day never felt so much like eternity. I stare numbly at my family as they bustle about me…as if the world didn't just end.

But maybe that's because it was my world that ended. The one I never knew that I wanted. Until it was snatched away from me.

My eyes are aching, throbbing from the floods of tears that I've wept. Now, there's nothing left to cry out; my eyelids are swollen and puffy.

I feel wrung out.

Mom gently guides me through the front door as we get home. The familiar scent of cinnamon and sage wafts over me, but instead of comfort, it brings a fresh wave of grief. Just days ago, I was in this place, wishing the connection was gone, and now-

I can't finish the thought.

"Rowan?" A small voice chirps. Poppy scampers down the banister, her usual sass replaced by concern. She takes one look at me, and her tiny shoulders slump. "Oh, Ro…"

I collapse onto the couch, my legs finally giving out. Dad drapes a blanket over my shoulders, but I barely feel it. Everything's muted, like I'm underwater.

Kara kneels in front of me, her eyes dark with concern. "Ro, you need to eat something. Or at least drink some water."

I shake my head. The thought of food makes my stomach revolt.

Gran settles beside me, her hand finding mine. "Rowan, dear. I know it feels impossible right now, but—"

"Don't," I croak, my voice raw. "Please don't tell me it'll be okay. It won't."

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of Darick's pendant still clasped in my palm. His last gift to me. A sob builds in my throat, but I'm too exhausted to let it out.

I fight off the images, the memories of the morning flooding back: The mayhem after our escape…witches swarming the building, securing every corner. I remember begging them to find Darick, my voice hoarse and desperate.

"There has to be something!" I'd screamed, trying to push past the arms holding me back. "He can't just be…gone."

Then they'd brought Heath out in magical restraints, his face a picture of defiance. I'd lunged at him, fingers clawed, magic tingling at my fingertips – weak as it was. Dad had held me back.

"Rowan," Mom says gently, pulling me back to the present. "You need to accept—"

"No," I cut her off, my hand clutching Darick's pendant. "We never found him. He could still be out there, healing, like before."

Before… When I'd been the one to burn him.

Kara and Dad exchange a look that speaks volumes.

"Ro," Kara starts, her voice gentle but firm. "Even if he survived the initial sunlight, the building was thoroughly searched. There was nothing left but…"

She trails off, but I know what she's not saying.

Dust. Ashes. Nothing.

"You're wrong," I insist, my voice breaking. "All of you. He's survived before. He'll come back. He has to."

But will he? He told me he was weak. And he never fed from me when he could. I could have made him stronger with my blood, but instead, I'd told him he couldn't have it.

Oh God. Maybe I could have saved him!

There's another heavy silence from my family.

"If he's gone, how come there isn't a void where the bond should be?" I cast my eyes to my grandmother beside me. "You told me, Gran, don't you remember? You said that destroying the bond would shatter me."

Not that I don't feel shattered. But I'm not feeling that strange hollowness I'd felt when I'd been locked in that cell before he reached me.

Gran slides a hand around my shoulders and pulls me close against her. "Do you feel him?" she asks.

I don't answer immediately because I'm trying desperately to find that familiar tingle. That sense of him. But I don't. "No," I whisper. "I don't feel hollow though. Surely that must mean something?"

"It does, darling." She smiles sadly. "It means he knew what was coming." She touches my hand that's closed around the warm pendant, then gently takes it from me, her fingers tracing its intricate design. "Rowan, dear, this is an ancient artifact created during the early days of vampire-witch bonds. It serves two crucial purposes."

She holds it up to the light, letting it catch the sun's rays. "First, as you've experienced, it enhances the blood bond between mates. It allows them to reach out to each other across great distances, strengthening their connection."

Gran's eyes soften, a hint of sadness in her voice. "But its second purpose is equally important, though far more tragic. When a blood-bonded pair is separated by death, the surviving witch experiences unbearable pain – a void where their connection once was. This pendant…it helps to fill that void."

She gently places the pendant in my hand. "It doesn't erase the loss, but it cushions the blow. It takes the edge off the pain, allowing the survivor to heal without being consumed by the emptiness left behind. Think of it as a magical balm for the soul, soothing the raw edges of a severed bond."

Gran squeezes my hand. "Our ancestors created this to ensure that losing a blood mate wouldn't mean losing oneself. It preserves the warmth of the connection, even in absence, allowing the survivor to move forward without being taken by grief."

I swallow hard. "He knew this?"

"I told him," she says sadly.

"Oh." My voice is small. The last vestiges of hope I've been clinging to are beginning to fade. The silence stretches out as all of this slowly sinks in. I heave an audible sigh, breaking it.

"I think we need to get you cleaned up," Gran says, glancing down at where I'm still dressed in my low-cut shirt and tiny skirt. Both garments are now filthy and tattered, dirt and blood splattered over my exposed bare skin. "I have a spell to heal those." She strokes one of the countless tiny cuts that mar my skin. I shudder as I remember my mad plunge through the window. The only consolation is knowing that I got Sarah out with me. She's been taken to the home of Marina Tidewater to recuperate.

I don't resist when Gran tugs me to my feet and leads me to the guest suite bathroom. I could go down to my cottage to do this, but I suspect she'd object, and I'm too tired to argue. Within moments, the bath is running, fragrant steam filling the room as Gran weaves an intricate pattern of hand gestures over the swirling water.

"In you get, sweetheart." She indicates the bath as I strip off my filthy clothing. It doesn't occur to me to be self-conscious as I step past her naked and then sink into the water. I flinch as the countless little wounds sting and burn, then settle back when the unpleasant sensation begins to fade.

The bath starts to work its magic. I heave a sigh, my eyelids fluttering shut as the heat envelops me. It's the first good feeling I've had in over twenty-four hours.

"You just relax, darling," Gran murmurs as she slips out of the room. When I open my eyes again, one of Kara's cotton sundresses has been hung from a hook at the back of the bathroom door. A quick glance down confirms that Gran's spell has done its work. My skin is smooth, uninjured…as if nothing ever happened. If only I could say the same about my aching heart.

Dropping my head back against the back of the tub, I close my eyes once more.

I must have dozed off at some point because the next thing I know, I'm jolted awake by raised voices.

What the hell?

Getting out of the tub, I dry off and quickly slip into Kara's dress before heading downstairs. I stop short in the doorway. My family's living room is crowded with unexpected occupants. Among them, I spot a tall, imposing woman – Seraphina, our High Priestess.

"My lady, we were hoping for just a little time to regroup before having this meeting," Dad is saying.

"We need answers," Seraphina's cool voice cuts him short. She turns around, and her eyes lock onto mine. "Rowan Blackwood, you will tell us exactly what transpired at that facility."

I hover in the doorway, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze. Dad steps forward, positioning himself between us. "My daughter has been through enough. She needs rest, not an interrogation."

"With all due respect, Lake," Seraphina counters, "the vampires have a dead clan leader, and we're dealing with a rogue witch in custody. This situation demands immediate attention."

The words "dead clan leader" knock the wind from me. I can't breathe.

"Rowan," a gentle voice breaks through my panic. It's Astra Moonshadow, her violet eyes brimming with tears. "I'm…I'm so sorry. So very sorry. I had no idea. Heath. He…" She shakes her head.

I stare at her mutely.

Her eyes are so much like her son's.

I shrink back when she moves forward and reaches a hand to me. She stops. "Please, we need to understand. Heath… How could he be involved in this?"

I open my mouth, but no words come out. How can I explain the betrayal, the horror of what I witnessed? The memory of Heath's cold eyes as he spoke about getting rid of me makes me shudder.

"I- I don't…" I stammer, not sure how to answer without breaking this mother's heart.

"That's enough," Mom interjects firmly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Can't you see she's in no state for this? She's been through an ordeal."

Seraphina's expression softens slightly. "I understand this is difficult, but time is of the essence. If there are more collaborators—"

"Then you can wait until morning," Gran cuts in, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Rowan will speak when she's ready and not a moment before."

I watch numbly as Gran ushers the elders out, her voice firm but polite. "We'll continue this tomorrow. Rowan needs rest."

As the door closes behind them, I let out a shaky breath. The room feels emptier, but the tension lingers like a heavy fog. I make my way to the couch and sink onto it, hating how pitiful I feel.

"I need to speak to them at some point, Gran. Sooner rather than later," I say, injecting firmness into my tone. There's no sense in putting this off. I need to get this behind me.

"You're right," she acknowledges. "But you need to take care of yourself first. Give your body time to recover. And your heart…"

I know that will take longer. But I give a faint smile.

Kara plops down next to me on the couch, her eyes bright with determination. "Hey, Ro. I've been thinking about Mia. Now that we know more about what's going on, maybe we can—"

I try to focus on her words, but they wash over me in a meaningless blur. Mia. God, I should be worried about her. I should be planning. But all I can think about is Darick, and the ache in my chest threatens to swallow me whole.

"Kara, honey," Mom interrupts gently. "Maybe we could talk about this later?"

Dad settles on my other side, his arm around my shoulders. "You're safe now, pumpkin. We've got you."

I lean into him, grateful for the familiar comfort of his embrace. But it can't chase away the chill that's settled deep in my bones.

A tiny paw tugs at my sleeve, and I look down to see Poppy. My familiar is dancing about clownishly. "Hey, Ro," she chirps, "Wanna see me do a backflip? I've been practicing!"

Before I can respond, she launches into an exaggerated tumble that ends with her sprawled dramatically on her back, tail twitching. Despite everything, I feel the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at my lips.

"Ta-da!" Poppy announces, rolling to her feet. "I call it the ‘Squirrel Spectacular.' Patent pending."

I reach out and stroke her soft fur. "Thanks, Poppy." I manage another smile. It's a ridiculous gesture but sweet in its sincerity.

As my family surrounds me with their love and support, I clutch Darick's pendant tighter. The weight of it grounds me, a reminder of what I've lost and what I still have.

I push myself up from the couch, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. "I think…I think I need to go home now."

Mom's brow furrows with concern. "Sweetheart, are you sure? You've been through so much. Maybe you should stay here tonight."

I shake my head, forcing a smile. "I appreciate it, I do. But I need some time alone. To process everything."

Dad steps forward, his face wreathed with worry. "Pumpkin, we're just not sure it's a good idea for you to be by yourself right now."

A flicker of frustration cuts through my grief. I've always been the fragile one, the one they've had to protect and coddle. Now, with everything that's happened, they're treating me like I might break at any moment.

Maybe I will. But I need to face that on my own.

"I know you're worried," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "But I'm not a child anymore. I can't keep relying on all of you to hold me up. I need to learn to stand on my own."

Kara steps closer, her eyes searching mine. "Ro, no one thinks you're weak. After what you've been through—"

"I know," I cut her off, softening my tone. "And I love you all for caring so much. But right now, I just need some space. My cottage, my things…it'll help me feel grounded."

Gran nods slowly, understanding in her eyes. "Sometimes, solitude is the best medicine." She turns to my parents. "We should respect Rowan's wishes."

After a moment of tense silence, Mom sighs. "Alright. But promise you'll call if you need anything. Anytime."

I manage yet another weak smile. I'm getting better at this. "I promise."

As I turn to the door, I can feel their concerned gazes following me. Part of me wants to give in, to let them wrap me in their love and protection. But I know I need to face this pain head-on, even if it means facing it alone.

I trudge along the familiar path to my cottage, each step feeling heavier than the last. The world around me seems muted, as if all the color has been drained away. It's fitting, I suppose. Everything feels gray without him. That sense of not being alone…I need it more than I ever cared to admit.

Darick.

His name in my mind brings a fresh wave of pain. I remember the first time I saw him, how annoyed I was by his arrogance, his smirk. God, what I wouldn't give to see that smirk again. To hear his voice, even if it was just to tease me.

A sob catches in my throat as I recall our stolen moments. The way his eyes softened when he looked at me, the gentleness in his touch that belied his strength. I'd been so caught up in my fear, my distrust, that I'd pushed him away at every turn.

Now, I'd give anything for one more chance.

The cottage comes into view, and I pause, overwhelmed by memories. Darick standing on my porch, his eyes pleading for understanding. Our heated arguments, the tension between us, the electricity. The night he held me, touched me…when I finally let my guard down.

I fumble with my keys, my vision blurring with unshed tears. As I step inside, the emptiness of the space hits me. It feels wrong, being here without the possibility of him appearing unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the empty room, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, Darick. I should have trusted you. I should have—"

I freeze. My heart stops. The keys fall from my fingers and jangle as they hit the floor.

There, standing in my living room, is Darick.

I blink hard, certain I'm hallucinating. But he's still there, his tall frame silhouetted against the window. I stare at him, drinking in every detail of his face. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the intensity in his gaze. It's all exactly as I remember, yet somehow more precious now that I thought I'd lost it forever.

"Rowan," he says, his voice rough but achingly familiar. Darick takes a step toward me, his icy eyes never leaving mine.

"You're…you're dead," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I saw…the explosion…the sun…" Slowly, I raise a hand and reach out, almost afraid he'll vanish if I touch him.

"It seems I'm harder to kill than we thought." His lips twitch at the corners.

My fingers make contact with his chest, connecting with the solid reality of him. It's him. Impossibly, unbelievably him.

A sob tears from my throat. Joy, disbelief, and lingering grief war within me. I want to hold him, to touch him, to make sure he's real. But I'm frozen, paralyzed by the shock of seeing him here.

"You're really here," I breathe, still not quite believing it. "You're alive."