29. Ecco

29

ECCO

I wake slowly, pulling myself from a deep slumber. Practicing my powers yesterday exhausted me—I was out as soon as I hit the mattress. Thankfully, after a night of sleep, I'm much refreshed.

My eyes flutter open and Graeme's face fills my vision, his chiseled features relaxed and peaceful in slumber.

I want to savor this stolen moment, to etch every detail into my memory. The solid weight of Graeme's muscular arm draped over my waist, the feel of his wings curled around me, our bodies entangled.

But even as I nestle deeper into his embrace, I can't shake the nerves twisting in my belly. The knowledge of what today will bring sits heavy on my chest, knowing how it threatens to shatter this fragile world we've built around ourselves.

Graeme's eyes blink open, pale blue eyes still soft with sleep as they seek out mine. He raises a large hand to cradle my cheek, his touch impossibly gentle.

"Good morning," he murmurs, voice husky in a way that sets my pulse racing.

I tilt my face into his caress, helpless to resist the magnetic pull between us even as dread coils tighter in my gut. Gazing into those fathomless blue depths, I know with sudden, aching certainty that our time here is drawing to an end.

That no matter how badly I long to stay cocooned in his arms, reality is waiting.

"We should get up," I whisper, the words scraping painfully past the lump in my throat.

Shadows flicker in Graeme's eyes as he absorbs my reluctance.

"I know," he sighs, rough fingers tracing patterns on my back. "But let's just... let's just have this moment, okay? Just a little while longer."

Tears prick hot behind my eyes and I nod, not trusting my voice. Arching closer, I map the sculpted planes and ridges of his chest with reverent hands, memorizing every inch of his skin. Our limbs entangle, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces.

When we come together, our lovemaking is slow, tender, each caress a wordless promise. A desperate edge tinges our movements as we try to etch every detail into our hearts.

Afterwards, we lay entwined, pulses gradually slowing. Graeme's arms anchor me but I know, I know we can't stay cocooned here forever, much as I long to.

Our stolen time is almost up.

Fortified with a hearty Moonflower cafe breakfast, Graeme and I head to Velda's cottage.

Inside, the air carries hints of chamomile and ginger from her latest wonderful tea, but grief is still the most palpable presence in the house. It's etched into the weathered lines of Velda's face, reflected in her red-rimmed eyes as she perches on her armchair by the hearth.

My heart aches seeing the once vibrant weather witch so diminished. I kneel beside her chair and take her papery hands in mine. A flicker of hope kindles in her gaze.

"Are you ready?" I ask softly.

Velda purses her lips. "And you're sure this won't make me forget my Myrtle?"

"It won't, I promise. But it will, I hope, help ease the sharpest edges of the pain."

For a long moment, Velda is silent. Then she nods once, decisive. "I'm ready."

Drawing a steadying breath, I close my eyes and reach deep inside myself, tapping into the symphony of power that thrums through my veins. It's easier this time, waiting for me, a deep ocean of power asking to be tapped. The siren's song builds behind my ribs, in my throat.

And then, I open my mouth and begin to sing.

The melody pours out of me, each note heavy with the ache of loss, the hollowness that comes from saying goodbye too soon. Velda's grief flows through me, amplified and given voice by my siren magic. Through her, I remember Myrtle, our many afternoons together as the three of us. Her vibrant spirit, her laugh, her silly jokes.

Velda's pain becomes mine, and mine becomes the music, raw and devastating.

But as the song continues, rising and falling like ocean waves, something starts to shift. The oppressive weight in the room begins to lift, the shadows receding as if banished by the break of dawn.

As I sing, I sense the change in Velda too, see it in the way her shoulders straighten, the taut lines of anguish on her face smoothing.

Tears flow freely down her cheeks, and then with a deep breath, she closes her eyes. The tears begin to slow, then cease altogether, as if my song has granted her permission to release her iron grip on sorrow.

As the final notes dissipate into silence, Velda opens her eyes. The transformation in her countenance steals my breath—sorrow is still there, but so is a new serenity.

"Thank you, Ecco," Velda whispers. "You were right. This hasn't made me love Myrtle any less, or miss her any less. But now… now it's like I can see the sun on the horizon again. Like I can finally start to move forward, even if it's just one small step at a time."

A lump swells in my throat. I can only nod as I pull Velda into a fierce embrace, tears spilling down my own cheeks.

Graeme's gruff voice calls us back to reality. "Ecco, Velda. Look outside."

Startled, we turn toward the window. A gasp escapes me. Outside, the relentless snowfall has ceased. The heavy gray clouds are parting like a theater curtain, revealing a sky of breathtaking crystalline blue.

The blizzard that's held Elderberry Falls captive is losing its chokehold. The realization crashes over me—the magical storm is dissipating at last.

We're free.

But even as relief surges through my veins, a leaden weight settles in my stomach.

"Well, then," I manage to say. "I guess it's time to go home."

The insistent trickle of melting snow and ice dripping from roofs and trees and lampposts forms a backdrop as Graeme and I load up his car outside the Moonflower. A magical snowplow works on the scattered piles of snow still blocking parts of the road out, the metal scraping loudly against the cobblestones.

I pause, my hands full of the random items I've bought from shops in town these last few weeks—paperbacks from Spellbound, a cutesy set of branded mugs from the Enchanted Bean. Mementos of a stolen time.

Around us, Elderberry Falls is stirring back to life. People emerge from their homes and shops, blinking owlishly in the unaccustomed brightness, the sudden return to summer sunshine.

"Mrrow?" Minx chirrups from her perch atop a duffel bag, her glowing eyes quizzical.

"Looks like you're riding shotgun, little miss," I coo, scooping her up and relishing the warm, soft weight of her against my chest. At least this time, Graeme will let us both ride in the front seat.

As if on cue, the trunk slams with an ominous thud. I turn to find Graeme watching me, his expression inscrutable. He gives a short nod toward the knot of people assembling on the Moonflower's lawn.

"Looks like your farewell party has arrived."

My stomach twists painfully. Slowly, I pivot to face the gathered crowd. Mariah and Thorak stand arm-in-arm, Mariah smiling bravely through obvious tears. Beside them, Dad beams at me.

"There's my songbird," he says, opening his arms. I fly into his embrace, burying my face against the solid strength of his chest.

I pull back, swiping at my damp cheeks, and my gaze lands on Deandra. Mom. She hovers at the edge of the group, her posture perfect, hair impeccable, her expression a careful mask. But as our eyes meet, I can see a hint of apology in them, of hope.

Impulsively, I step forward and wrap my arms around her.

"Safe travels, Ecco," Mom murmurs as I step back. I can only nod.

Then I'm enveloped in a dizzying flurry of embraces—Gruna's firm clasp, Finn's exuberant squeeze, Rian's gentle shoulder clasp and Jessa's tearful hug.

"You'll be amazing at the Jubilee," I tell little Jessa fiercely. "I'm so proud of you, and everyone in the choir. I can't wait to hear all about it."

"I'll come visit," Jessa promises. "Soon."

At the end of the line flutters little Karisse. The sprite fidgets in place, her wings lifting her up into the air and then bumping back down to the ground again. "Miss Ecco, I?—"

Whatever else she meant to say is lost as she flings herself forward, small arms cinching around my waist as she presses her face to my stomach.

"Hey, hey," I soothe, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "You'll see me again before you know it. At my next concert, right? Only this time, you'll actually be in the audience. No crashing through spacetime, okay?"

"I promise," Karisse mumbles, voice muffled by the fabric of my shirt. "I'll be good."

One by one, I commit each beloved face to memory—Mariah's kind eyes, Thorak's crooked grin, Dad's careworn smile. The roots that have kept me grounded. The branches that have helped me grow.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I turn to give Mariah one more big hug.

"I can't wait to be an auntie," I whisper into her hair. "I'm so happy for you and proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, songbird," Mariah says, tears streaming down her face freely now. I choke my tears back, determined not to give in—if I start crying I'm not sure I'll ever be able to leave.

"Don't forget, I need a bump update from you every single day," I instruct her, mock-stern. "With pictures!"

Mariah laughs wetly.

Sighing, I wave a final goodbye to everyone and slide into the passenger seat, scooping Minx onto my lap. It's only once Graeme's pulled past the Moonflower and towards the edge of town that I finally give into my own tears.

I know I should be happy and proud. I'm going back to an amazing music career, with my amazing tour coming up fast.

I helped everyone by using my magic to speed up Velda's healing, freeing the town from the crazy winter storm.

Perhaps most importantly, I helped Velda embrace joy again.

But ironically, all I can feel right now is grief.