The next day, after a long day in the fields, he returned to his cabin and cried himself to sleep again.
The day after that, he did the same thing, holding his pillow close until sleep finally took him.
Hansel watched him quietly each time, saying nothing. Boaz knew he wanted to. He just didn’t.
Even when a meeting was called to give an update on what had happened after the chasm closed, Hansel didn’t say a word to him.
Boaz only heard about it through other pack members. He still went, though, telling himself it was to check on everyone else, to see how they were holding up.
But part of him knew the truth.
He went to see Drago.
Even though he knew Drago wasn’t Alexander, being near him eased the ache in his chest just a little.
Boaz stared at the vampire’s tall frame and long hair, letting his mind briefly blur the line between him and Alexander.
He folded his arms tightly across his chest, holding himself together as he listened to Brett give an update about the young witches who had been infected.
“The infection just disappeared,” Brett said. “It’s like once His Majesty passed on, the infection died within them too. Perhaps the demon that infected him reproduces that way, by infecting others. Much like vampires.”
Boaz turned to leave when they started talking about Alexander.
“Boaz,” Manlius said, stopping him.
“Hey,” Boaz replied as the sorcerer came to stand beside him.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Boaz said, glancing briefly at Drago before quickly looking away again. “Did you want something?”
“No. I just wanted to check on you and give you this,” Manlius said, holding up a chain. At the end of it was a small snowflake.
“He wanted me to give it to you. I preserved it with my magic. It will never melt. It will last for eternity.”
Boaz’s eyes filled with tears. He reached for the necklace, mumbling a quick thanks before hurrying back to his cabin.
Once inside, he locked the door behind him. He went straight to the bed and lay down, the snowflake clenched tightly in his hand. It felt like something was tearing through his chest, raw and unrelenting.
He cried until there was nothing left in him.
For a while, all he wanted was to stay there and let everything slip away. But he couldn’t. The fields still needed him. So every morning he forced himself up and went to work, pouring what was left of him into the land that had been his companion long before he ever met Alexander.
Life around him slowly returned to normal. People went back to their lives, and the war faded into memory. So did Alexander.
Boaz knew he should move on, but he couldn’t.
He stared at the full moon shining over the lake, its reflection rippling across the water. It was beautiful in a quiet, indifferent way. Strange how everything else could change so drastically while some things stayed exactly the same.
Footsteps crunched over the sand behind him. Boaz turned slightly to see Hansel walking toward him.
“Hey,” he said cautiously. “Is it safe to approach?”
“Yes,” Boaz replied, turning back toward the water as he dug his fingers into the sand. He lifted a handful and let it slip slowly through them.
“I guess I’ve been weird lately,” he said quietly.
“Lately?” Hansel let out a short chuckle. “It’s been a month, Boaz. I thought you’d never come back to the lake.”