I watch how he spends those days without me, feeling lost and lonely and bleak. Haunted by the scenes from his past, sure that he deserves nothing less, and though he’s clearly overcome with joy when I return, deep down inside, he’s not entirely sure he deserves it.

I feel the fear he held in check when I was taken over by the dark magick I brought upon myself—just as I feel his eagerness to forgive me for all of the things that I did while under its influence.

Experiencing his love in such a deeply profound way, I’m left completely hollowed and humbled by the sheer abundance of it—by the way it never once shrank in its intensity, never once wavered throughout all of these passing centuries, throughout this past tumultuous year.

Humbled by the way he never once questioned his feelings for me in the way that I’ve questioned mine for him.

And yet, despite my occasionally turning him away—I now know something I failed to realize before:

My love for him also stayed true.

I may have questioned, second-guessed, veered a good ways from the path now and then, but all of that confusion existed only in my head.

Deep down inside, my heart knew the score.

And I know now that Haven was wrong.

It’s not always a case of one loving more than the other.

When two people are truly meant to be, they love equally.

Differently—but still equally.

The irony being—now that I realize all of this, finally realize the truth of him and me, I’m forced to spend the rest of eternity suspended in the abyss, reflecting on all that I missed.

Swathed in a never-ending cloak of darkness, completely disconnected from anything and everything around me. Haunted by the mistakes of my past that forever swirl by. Like an infinite show set on permanent repeat, taunting me with all that I could’ve been, if I’d only chosen differently.

If only I’d followed my heart instead of my head.

One thing made abundantly, blindingly clear—while it’s true that Jude’s always been there, always been kind and giving and loving toward me—Damen’s my one and only true soul mate.

I open my mouth, desperate to shout out his name, desperate for the feel of it on my lips, my tongue, hoping to reach him in some way.

But nothing comes.

And even if it did, there’s no one to hear me.

This is it.

My eternity.

Disconnected.

Dark.

Repeatedly tormented by a past I can’t change.

Aware that Drina is out there somewhere. Roman too. Each of us trapped in our own version of hell with no way to reach each other, with no end in sight.

So I do the only thing that I can—I close my eyes and surrender. Thinking that if nothing else, at least now I know.

At least I found the answer I sought for so long.

Soundlessly whispering into the void, my lips moving quickly, silently, without ceasing. Calling his name, calling him to me.

Even though there’s no use.

Even though it’s futile.

Even though it’s way past too late.

Chapter 27

The sound of his voice floats over me, through me, all around me. Like a vague and distant hum that crosses oceans, continents, and galaxies to reach me.

But I can’t reply, can’t respond in any way. It’s useless. Unreal.

A trick of the mind.

A Shadowland jeer.

No one can reach me now that I’m here.

My name a plea on his lips when he says, “Ever, baby, open your eyes and look at me—please.”

Words so familiar, I’m sure I’ve heard them before.

And just like before, I struggle to meet them. Slowly lifting my lids to find him gazing at me. Brow slanted with relief as those deep dark eyes bore anxiously into mine.

But it’s not real. It’s a game of some kind. Shadowland is a cruel and lonely place and I can’t afford to buy into this.

His arms slide around me, surrounding me, cradling me, and I allow myself to accept it, to sink into their depths, because while it may not be real, it’s just too good to resist.

I try once again, struggling to call out his name, but he presses his finger to my lips, pushing softly. He whispers, “Don’t speak. It’s okay.You’re okay. It’s all over now.”

I start to pull away, still gazing at him, not entirely convinced. My fingers seeking my throat, searching for evidence, exploring the exact same space where Haven’s fist plowed into me.

Ended me.

Remembering exactly how it felt to die for the second time in this life.

Remembering how it was nothing at all like the first time.

My eyes grazing his face, seeing the concern that plays at his brow, the relief that creeps into his gaze, eager for him to comprehend what really, truly happened here. “She killed me,” I tell him. “Despite all of my practice and training, in the end, I was no match for her.”

“She didn’t kill you,” he whispers. “Honestly, you’restill here.”

I struggle to sit, but he just holds me that much closer. So I gaze around the shop, taking in the piles of broken glass, the knocked-over bookshelves—like a scene from the most over-the-top disaster flick, featuring earthquakes, tornadoes, a full-on assault.

“But I went to the Shadowland—I saw—”

I close my eyes and swallow past the lump in my throat, pausing long enough for him to say, “I know. I couldfeel your despair. But even though it probably felt like a long time to you, or at least I know it did for me, it wasn’t nearly long enough for the silver cord to break and detach your body from your soul.