Chapter 28 — A Mortal Touch, A Fractured Heaven

“ZYRION!”

My head turned.

Everything after that happened too fast and far too slowly.

Seris stood behind me, one hand pressed against the side of her head, blood running between her fingers. Her legs shook beneath her. She should've been on the floor.

She should've stayed there.

Instead, silver light flashed around her feet.

Ward Step.

A tiny spell.

Barely more than a scholar's trick for crossing a room without knocking over stacks of books.

She'd used it a thousand times in archives.

To reach high shelves.

To steal pastries from Cassian.

To appear beside me whenever I thought I'd managed to escape an argument.

That time, she used it to cross the distance between my sword and my brother.

“No!”

The word tore out of me.

Too late.

Seris disappeared.

Then reappeared between us.

Her hands came up.

A defensive ward burst into life across her palms.

Gold.

Thin.

Desperate.

Epitaph touched it.

The ward vanished.

Not shattered.

Not broken.

Erased.

The Ninth Sigil didn't care that the magic belonged to Seris.

It didn't care that I loved her.

It didn't care that she'd called my name.

A blade that severs everything cannot distinguish justice from grief.

I finally understood the warning.

Epitaph passed through the ward.

Then through her.

The sound was small.

That's what I remember.

No thunder.

No great magical explosion.

Just Seris gasping.

The execution blade stopped.

Crimson light filled the space behind her.

For one heartbeat, none of us moved.

Cassian stared up from the floor.

I stared at Seris.

She looked down.

Epitaph had entered below her ribs.

The blade came out through her back.

“No.”

My hands released the hilt.

The Ninth Sigil went dark.

Epitaph returned to silver as Seris fell toward me.

I caught her.

“Seris?”

Her knees gave out.

I lowered her onto the red glass.

“No, no, no.”

Blood spread across my hands.

Too much.

I pressed both palms against the wound.

Healing light burst between my fingers.

“It's fine.”

My voice sounded ridiculous.

“It's fine. I've got you.”

Seris tried breathing.

It came out wet.

Cassian crawled toward us.

“Seris!”

“DON'T TOUCH HER!”

He froze.

I pushed more magic into the wound.

Healing spells were simple.

Close flesh.

Restore blood.

Repair damaged organs.

I'd healed wounds worse than this.

I had.

I knew I had.

The light entered her body.

Then disappeared.

Nothing took hold.

I tried again.

“Come on.”

More magic.

Nothing.

“Come on!”

Seris's hand moved weakly against my wrist.

“Zyr…”

“Don't talk.”

I pressed harder.

“You're fine.”

Another spell.

A stronger one.

Silver light flooded the room.

Nothing.

The wound wouldn't close.

It wasn't even trying.

Cassian stared at Epitaph.

Then his face changed.

“Zyrion.”

“Shut up.”

“The Ninth Sigil—”

“SHUT UP!”

I already knew.

I just hadn't let myself understand.

Epitaph didn't merely cut Seris's body.

It had severed the connection holding her soul to it.

Her soul was still there.

I could feel it.

Faint.

Warm.

Slipping farther away with every breath.

But her body couldn't hold it anymore.

No healing spell could repair something Epitaph had declared separate.

“No.”

I grabbed the blade.

“Undo it.”

Nothing.

“Epitaph.”

The sword lay silent beside me.

“UNDO IT!”

I slammed my hand against the sigils.

“Take it back!”

Nothing.

Weapons don't care about promises.

The old keeper had told me that.

People do.

I threw Epitaph across the chamber.

It struck a pillar and fell into the glass.

“I can fix this.”

Seris tried to smile.

It barely happened.

“Zyrion…”

“I said don't talk.”

I put one hand over her heart.

Another healing spell.

Then another.

Then another.

I stopped counting.

My magic burned through me so fast my vision blurred.

My Soul Crown cracked again.

I didn't care.

“Zyrion.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Her fingers touched my cheek.

Weak.

Warm.

I stopped.

Seris looked tired.

Not scared.

That was worse.

“Hey.”

I shook my head.

“Don't.”

“You need to listen.”

“No.”

“Please.”

That word destroyed what was left of me.

I looked at her.

Her pale-gold hair was covered in dust and blood. The blue ribbon she'd worn for years had come loose.

I remembered the archive.

A human girl standing in front of the Star-Chosen and refusing to bow.

I'd rather be arrested standing than introduced while kneeling.

I remembered burnt pastries.

The river.

Her head against my wing.

Her hand holding mine outside the sanctuary.

The letter I still didn't know existed.

“You're going to be fine.”

She smiled.

“You're a terrible liar.”

“I'll get better.”

“I don't think you will.”

“Seris.”

“I'm joking.”

“You're not funny.”

“You've said otherwise.”

“Stop.”

My voice broke.

She looked at my halo.

The fractures covered almost half of it now.

“Listen to me.”

“I didn't mean to.”

“I know.”

“I was trying to—”

“I know.”

“I didn't see you.”

“I know.”

“I heard you too late.”

“I know.”

Every answer made it worse.

Cassian sat several steps away.

He was crying silently.

I hated him.

I hated myself more.

Seris's thumb brushed beneath my eye.

I hadn't realised I was crying too.

“This isn't you.”

I laughed.

Blood shook across my hands.

“I did this.”

“Yes.”

She didn't lie.

Of course she didn't.

“You did.”

My chest collapsed inward.

Seris caught my face with what little strength she had left.

“But don't let this be the thing that decides who you are.”

I stared at her.

“How can it not?”

“Because you still choose tomorrow.”

“I don't want tomorrow.”

Her expression broke.

Just for a second.

“Don't say that.”

“I don't.”

“Zyrion.”

“What am I supposed to do without you?”

The question escaped before I could stop it.

There it was.

Not hero.

Not Star-Chosen.

Not celestial guardian.

Just the terrified man beneath all of it.

Seris's eyes filled.

“You live.”

“No.”

“You do.”

“No.”

“For me.”

“That's not fair.”

“I know.”

“You can't ask that.”

“I just did.”

I bent over her hand.

“Come with me.”

Her breath caught.

“Please.”

I didn't care how pathetic I sounded.

“Please, Seris.”

I pressed her hand against my face.

“We'll go.”

Her eyes softened.

“The cottage.”

“Yeah.”

My voice shook.

“The stupid cottage.”

“Not stupid.”

“Fine. Your books everywhere.”

“Obviously.”

“No Council.”

She smiled faintly.

“No Council.”

“No prophecy.”

“No crowns.”

“You'll ruin the garden.”

“I'll learn.”

“You killed a cactus.”

“It was sick.”

A sound left her.

Half laugh.

Half broken breath.

I started crying harder.

“We can still do it.”

Seris looked at me.

“You'd hate how many books I'd bring.”

“I don't care.”

“You would.”

“I'll build more shelves.”

“Badly.”

“Then you build them.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Silence.

Her smile faded.

I felt her soul move farther away.

Panic returned.

“No.”

I grabbed for healing magic again.

She caught my wrist.

“Don't.”

“I can still—”

“No.”

“Seris, please.”

Her eyes stayed on mine.

“I wanted to.”

I froze.

“What?”

Her fingers traced my cheek.

“The cottage.”

Her voice was barely there.

“You.”

My heart stopped.

“I wanted to.”

Her hand started slipping.

I caught it.

“No.”

Her eyes were still open.

“Seris.”

No answer.

“Seris?”

Her fingers went loose inside mine.

The warmth remained for a few seconds.

Then even that began to fade.

“No.”

I touched her face.

“Hey.”

Nothing.

“Seris.”

Cassian made a broken sound behind me.

I didn't look at him.

I couldn't.

I pulled Seris against my chest.

Her head rested beneath my chin the way it had beside campfires a hundred times before.

Except she wasn't breathing.

I waited anyway.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Maybe death could change its mind.

Maybe the world could.

Maybe if I held her tightly enough, her soul would remember where home was.

It didn't.

For years, I'd feared time would take her from me slowly. I'd imagined grey hair, shaking hands, a final morning decades away when I'd have to sit beside her and pretend I was ready. I'd hated that future so much I'd nearly convinced myself distance would hurt less.

I would've given anything for it then.

Anything for one grey hair.

One wrinkle.

One argument about breakfast.

One more stolen pastry.

One more chance to hear her tell me I was being an idiot.

I'd spent so long mourning the years I thought we'd lose that I never understood how lucky those years would've been.

We hadn't been robbed of forever.

We'd been robbed of tomorrow.

And the cruelest part was that, only minutes earlier, tomorrow had still been ours to choose.

The observatory stayed silent.

Red glass surrounded us.

Epitaph lay several metres away, silver again.

Innocent again.

I stared at the hands holding Seris.

My hands.

Her blood filled every line in my palms.

Once, she'd told me not to let grief decide who I was.

I wish I could say I listened.

Above my head, something cracked.

Loud.

Clear.

Final.

A piece of my Soul Crown fell past my face.

And this time, it didn't disappear.