Page 94 of Grave Revelations (Prophecies of Angels and Demons #3)

Chapter 93

Simon

Simon leaned against the thick trunk of a magnolia, fisting and unfisting his hands. It was peaceful here, beautiful, and utterly at odds with the war raging in his heart. He had spent nearly a century keeping her safe, and it had never been his choice. But he had chosen to move past the betrayal simmering in his chest and start fresh.

Because he loved her.

Wasn’t that what love was? But Rebecca hadn’t chosen him. Even now, at the end of the world, when it was just the two of them, she hadn’t chosen him.

He pushed off the tree’s rough bark and plucked a single white flower from its branch. It reminded him of the orchard at the estate. The nights he’d spent with Rebecca and Sarah under the old oak tree. How much of that was real, and how much was Zophiel’s binding spell?

He stepped out of its shade and ran a hand along the tall blades of grass, reaching nearly to his waist. They’d begun as short stems, a blanket coating the surface of the realm, but everything was growing quickly, exploding into new life as Rebecca’s magic funneled through her.Was she even aware of how ethereal she was in this place? It was as if she were made for it. A dim glow surrounded her, making her appear angelic. That thought soured his mouth. Angelic like the angel she loved .

He swatted the grass, strolling down a sloping hill until he reached the banks of the river. It flowed peacefully—nothing like the place he’d seen every day for so long.

As he watched, the boat departed, taking another group of souls with it.

When the souls destined for Alaxia went mindlessly to their fate, the ones who were damned had been closely guarded until Rebecca demanded their freedom. Simon had found himself among a cluster of souls who seemed disinclined to move in any direction. When Rebecca left the river, they had drifted aimlessly away from it. It was an echo of his actions now as he wandered with no purpose or destination.

He’d always imagined his ending was Rebecca. One where they no longer worried about curses, evil fathers, magic, or demons. But what if, after all, his happy ending meant being free to live for himself?

Rebecca stepped into the river, radiant in the soft light, and his breath caught. She splashed upstream, following the boat as it moved lazily away.

He watched, noting a silvery school of fish trailing her, swimming between her feet. That was new. Fish had never existed here. Nothing living had. What could it mean? What was happening to this place?

“Rebecca,” he said softly. She didn’t turn. Hadn’t heard him. Lost again in her thoughts, as she’d seemed to be from the moment she arrived. He opened his mouth to call her name again, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Did he want her to turn, to look at him with such disappointment and know, in his very marrow, that it wasn’t him she hoped to see?