Page 53

52

FADE

CEDRIC

It’s getting dark.

Not her.

She’s still here, a glowing light in the endless shadow, burning brighter than the stars scattered in the sky above us.

The pain’s all but gone now. Faded into nothingness.

I am very nearly nothing too. All of me, ebbing, waning.

Passing.

There’s still something left—something small, infinitesimal. It pulses in my chest, throbs.

A tiny tug, a golden light.

I feel it flickering there, that thread tied just behind my ribs, tethering me to this world. To her.

It’s weak, thin, stretched too far. But it’s still there.

She’s still there.

It’s flickering, but it doesn’t die. Not yet.

My hand reaches to cup her cheek, and I relish the softness of her skin, even as it’s slick with tears.

I try to hold on.

I can’t.