Don’t speak. Don’t move. Trust Viola.I hope Viola knows what she’s doing, because if Grimm kills Willow, he will break the tether and regain his full form.
Willow whirls around, and Grimm is on his feet. Before she can even take a step, he plunges his dagger into her back, pulling her into him. Her pupils widen, then her eyes tear up. She doesn’t have to speak for me to understand the regret her tears carry.
All these deaths, senseless and in vain, because in the end, he’s coming back. None of us could stop him, no matter how many died trying.
Grimm lowers his head in the crook of her neck, bringing his lips to her ear. “All these years, exiled in limbo… for nothing.” He twists the blade, and Willow’s eyes fade; her limp body drops at his feet. His shoulders cave in, like he’s now letting out a two-decade-long sigh. He laughs to himself as he steps over her.
“It’s always sad to lose one of our own. After all, you areallmy children, some misguided, but still all mine. I bleed when you bleed. Rest now,” he says in a prayer over Willow’s body. How strange it is to see him mourning someone he’s just ruthlessly killed. What kind of sick, twisted monster are we dealing with?
Slowly, he turns toward us. At first, I don’t notice it, but slowly, Lorne’s soft features morph into sharper, more dangerous lines.
At his feet, the ground pulses, dirt curling over his shoes, until it wraps around his ankles. At first, I think it’s part of his transformation, but then the soil dissipates, and two skeletal hands grab at his legs, and behind him four more emerge from the ground.
Next to me, Viola’s fingers ebb and flow with the movement of the skeletal hands. Grimm jerks his leg forward impatiently, but the undead root him in place. He whips his head in Viola’s direction and seems to recognize something in those deep, inky eyes. “It’s you…”
Grimm twists his right palm, and the undead fall to dust. He straightens himself up, canting his head toward Viola, a half smile grazing his lips. “You’ve always been too soft for this world, Ysenia.”
As he speaks, his hair darkens from Lorne’s blond to black, and themoss green of his eyes deepens to the green of the forest, and soon his features are nothing like Lorne’s. They are strong, angular, exuding godhood. All three aspiers lock their eyes on him. What do they see that I don’t?
“Overconfidence is a fool’s favorite attribute, Rafael.” Viola—Ysenia— laughs.
Grimm’s smile fades. He tries to move, but dark tendrils of death emerge like whips from the dirt, snaking around his every limb, around his neck. A skeletal hand rips the sleeve of his shirt, clicks open his golden cuff—Faro’s Cuff—and drags it straight back through the ground.
I sigh at the irony. Lorne was wearing Faro’s Cuff all this time, and we never knew. And now, the cuff’s rightful owner has claimed it back.
“No,” Grimm roars, the tendrils dissipating into dust. He drops to his knees. “No.” His hands feel the ground around him; his fingers claw at the dirt, upturning the soil only to find rocks and twigs.
Viola’s knees buckle, and I wrap a hand around her waist, holding her against me as I lower us to the soft grass. Ysenia’s possession must have depleted her energy.
“Vi.” My thumb brushes over her cheek.
It’s cold.
“Vi.” Her eyes are sealed, her chest unmoving.
Panic catches in my throat as I lower my fingers to her neck. No pulse.
No. Please, Gods. No.
Viola’s mortality impales me. This isn’t happening. She’s not dead; she’s survived worse than this. I’ve saved her before. I can do it again.
Railesza bites into vein after vein, so much so that Viola’s arms are littered with fang marks. Venom takes time to work, I remind myself.
Soon after, Railesza pauses. It must be working; my aspier wouldn’t just stop. But she lifts her head at me, holding my stare for a moment, and I realize that she’s asking for permission… to stop.
I return a singular nod, and she stills, coiling herself at Viola’s heart. Scar leaps off my arm, violently hissing at Railesza, but my healing aspier doesn’t move.
A stillness settles around me. Gryff and Beau should’ve been here by now, but there’s no one. Even Grimm has disappeared.
It’s over.
I cradle Viola’s head against my chest, my heart slamming against my rib cage. Brushing her hair away from her forehead, I linger on her face. Shelooks calm, content, and I want more than anything to disrupt her peace. She can’t leave me here; she can’t leave me alone. We’ve only just begun.
Without her, life has no meaning, no purpose.
We deserve more time.
Tears drop onto her cheeks, and for a moment I think they’re hers… but they’re mine. Her warmth is slowly dissipating, so I hold her closer to give her some of my own warmth. I shake my head. This cannot be the end. Maybe Briar and Railesza can try again. Maybe one of DOTS’s healers can bring her back. Maybe Parrish can resurrect her. Maybe… Maybe…