Page 140 of The Unbound Witch
I pulled away from Bastian’s solid arms to sit on the cool ground, and he dropped the blanket over my shoulders and joined me.
“I can’t handle the silence between us,” I whispered. “I know this isn’t the future you wanted, but this has been the hardest day. I need you to look at me. And smile. Let me feel your love, Bastian.”
“I don’t know how to love you and lose you, Raven. You’re the only thing in this life I pine for, even when you’re right beside me.”
“Nothing’s changed aside from you knowing what’s going to happen. This had been my journey my whole life. Love me the same as you did yesterday. Start there.”
He shook his head, the tips of his lashes falling heavy in the moonlight. “I can’t … Because I love you more. I’m sorry. I can’t act like this isn’t the end of my world. But I know it’s hurting you and I don’t want to add to the pain. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever thoughts are swirling through that beautiful mind of yours, just know that I will still fight for you. I’m never going to accept it. But I am going to be on your side. Whatever you need, Raven. It’s yours.”
“I just need you. Don’t push me away.”
“My beautiful little witch,” he said, pulling me into his lap. “You didn’t deserve this day. How can I make it up to you?”
“I have a theory,” I whispered. So afraid to breathe hope into his mind and steal it away, I was hardly able to say the words. “Before I tell you, I need you to promise you’re not going to interfere.”
“I don’t like this,” he growled.
“Are we a team or not?”
A deep sigh followed a single nod of his head.
“The moon will be full tomorrow. The night I was born, it was also full, and your mother placed me on a pedestal and bound my magic using remnants of power left behind by the Book of Omnia. That’s why we have always had a different kind of connection. Her ancestral power feels yours, but sits within me. She linked us long ago. And now, somewhere in the heart of the castle, there’s a pedestal. It’s where the book was cursed and split into seven. If we place them back on that pedestal under the full moon, using this”—I pulled the Fire Coven stone from my pocket, an ache forming in my gut at the way it no longer whispered to me—“then maybe the books won’t die, and I won’t die.”
He jerked upright. I turned to look into his eyes, the hopefulness I found there, just the thing I was so afraid of. But I needed his help.
“So that’s it? We just find the pedestal, stack the books, and you live?”
“Yes,” I lied. “I hope. And I can feel it as strongly as the books. It’s like a heartbeat hidden below. Probably in the catacombs. It’s harboring power that we will need. But this stone is nearly dead. If we don’t succeed by tomorrow night, there’s no chance. For them, or for me.”
“Then we’re leaving. Right now.”
He hauled me to my feet, practically kicking down the door to the cottage, scaring the daylights out of Atlas, who shifted on instinct before he’d even fully awakened. “We’re leaving. We’re not stopping to rest. You fall behind, you’re left behind.”
He’d needed that, I realized as we tore off into the night. A renewed sense of purpose in a patchwork world. We crossed the stone bridge to the Fire Coven as I explained what that old wraith had said. Moving over charred ground, lit by starlight, I told them of the books’ whisperings and sentient power, of what it felt like when they pulled me, called me.
Urgency swept over us as we ran, slowing for rest and pushing when we could. Stopping to eat, and for me to catch my breath. One step leading into another as we raced for the Grimoires. Bastian took them with no explanation, ordering everyone to stay away from the palace until word was sent otherwise. He told his coven to send what food they could spare to the Moon Coven, giving the name of the baker. Then he grabbed Kirsi and Torryn and we ran, racing for the black castle.
But as we crested the final hill of the scorched Fire Coven, the spires of the castle lit by the early morning rays of golden sunlight, my breath caught in my throat. I stumbled, falling to the ground. Bastian and Tor swooped in to grab me.
“Okay?” Torryn asked, his deep voice soothing my soul.
“It’s like my dream,” I breathed, staring down at the pearly white castle. No longer haunted by shadows or conspiracies of the Dark King. No longer a fearful thing to look upon. The absolute contrast of the white against the black ground was striking and beautiful.
“It’s been restored by magic to its former glory,” Bastian said. “This is the castle of my father’s childhood. The castle my parents were married in.”
I stumbled down the hill in wonder. The closer I got, the higher the sun rose until it beamed so bright, I could hardly see it at all. When we stepped into the white marble halls, I gulped, daring to touch the cool surface with my fingertips.
“The statues?” I asked, noting the various busts and beasts, sculpted to perfection.
“Mine,” Bastian said, coming to stand behind me. “The catacombs were saved from the blast, and that is where I’d kept most of them.”
He pulled me along, the darkness of his hair and sweeping cloak seeming misplaced in the beaming hall. He looked down at me with the tenderest smile before gesturing up to the figure of a woman in a beautiful ball gown, her eyes closed, holding her arms wide as if conducting the world in a song of life and sorrow. Tangles of wild curls fell down her shoulders. The lace details of her dress, perfection.
“Me?”
“You.” He kissed the top of my shoulder, and a ripple of desire ran through me. “Every second of every minute for the rest of forever, and then five minutes more.”
Those words were bittersweet now. Still, I let him wrap me in his arms, let him hold me and wish for eternity.