Page 29

Epilogue

Lope

I opened a door to darkness,

Wherein I’d find

My sweet, sunlit heart.

W hen I opened the door to the Underworld, the air that greeted me was warm and gentle. No Shadows slid past my ankles, just as the Shadow King had promised. I could see nothing through the doorway but a black abyss, yet the faintest smell of orange blossoms made my heart feel at home again.

I wished farewell to Sagesse and to Eglantine. I took one last glance about the library, at the bright colors, at the glow of the sunshine, real sunshine against the books.

A light waited for me below.

I set one foot into the void, landing against a sturdy surface—the top of a staircase, I remembered.

I would descend these steps to the Underworld. And with Ofelia by my side, I would forever call this place my home.

I shut the door behind me.

The golden light of the library shrank, folding smaller and smaller like a piece of paper—until it was gone.

The gravity of it struck me. I clung tight to my leather satchel, filled with every remnant I could bring with me from my travels. Flowers pressed between pages of sonnets. My book of sketches—small, meager things, my rudimentary attempts to capture the majesty of a mountain or the peacefulness of a cabin by the lake. And my own journals were filled to bursting, musing about the beauty I beheld, trying to fit every ounce of it onto a page, so that Ofelia might experience it with me.

With trembling breaths, I felt my way down the steps, a thin onyx railing serving as my guide. We had spoken so often with the use of the mirror. Our bond had changed, breaking and reforging and learning and growing.

Yet I’d not held her hand in a year. I’d not felt her breath upon my neck. I longed for the days when I’d wake up beside her and the faint scent of roses and orange blossoms from the perfume in her hair would fill the air between us.

I knew her; I trusted her, but even so, doubt whispered poison in my ear, What if she doesn’t want you?

The dazzling light drew me away from my brooding. Somewhere in my descent, I’d passed some invisible barrier, I’d slipped into some different world, where the sky was golden, like twilight in summer. I stopped in shock, gazing out at the land before me.

To my left were dozens and dozens of cherry blossom trees, just like the ones I’d seen on my journey. They were surrounded by fields of flowers of all colors, and a path wound through them all, leading to—to a bed, right there in the middle of the orchard, covered in blooms, vines twining around the wood frame.

Ahead of me was a range of lilac mountains, capped with snow. But they did not look to be made of stone—their texture was soft and loose. Like brushstrokes, as if someone had painted the mountains into being.

And on my right, a still, calm lake was like a pool of gold, reflecting the sky. The lake was ringed with pink sand, and far, far away, I could see three small figures in bright clothing.

Ofelia. One of them had to be Ofelia.

I could not contain all the hope and the happiness within me. Gripping tight to the railing, I called to the trio below, “Ofelia!”

One figure scrambled to their feet and shielded their eyes against the sunlight. Then her bright, joyful cry rang out through the whole world, and she was tearing across the flowery plains.

As fast as I could, I bounded down the stairs. At the very bottom, the earth beneath my feet was not black stone as before, but soft soil. Before me were vast fields of lavender, just like the ones I’d seen in the southeast, except these grew so wildly, so freely, all the way up to my waist. I breathed in the soft, sweet perfume and touched my fingertips to a lavender sprig—it was real. A little damp, delicate, full of life. Such beauty, all in this place that had been so dark, so cold.

“Lope!”

In the distance, there she was, wading among the lavender blossoms. With the light behind her, I could not see her face, just her silhouette, outlined in gold like she had become a goddess in my absence. She wore a wreath of flowers in her hair, all of them gleaming in the light—golden blooms that crowned her and fell, draping throughout her curls.

We raced toward each other, and then, at long last, I held her fast in my arms. Amid her crying and her delighted laughter, she pulled back from me, kissing my hair, my brow, my cheeks, my lips.

“You came back,” she whispered, tears glowing in her eyes.

If the gods had faces, they’d look like hers. A brilliant smile that made my heart stop. Her soft, pink lips that I wanted to worship . The constellation of freckles across her cheeks and shoulders, and those eyes, those warm, brown eyes that made me feel like I was the most important being in the universe. The place of the goddess of love must have been usurped by Ofelia, who radiated warmth and affection like sunlight.

I pressed my forehead to hers. “I could not live with my heart so far away.”

Her thumbs delicately brushed my cheeks. “I hope you found happiness up there. That’s all I wanted; I wanted you to be happy—”

I interrupted her with a kiss. The way her breath faltered in a soft gasp against my lips made starlight sweep through me. “I am the happiest creature, above or below.”

She stood on her toes, clutching the lapels of my coat before gracing me with another kiss. “We’ll call it a tie.”

For a moment, we lost ourselves in quiet, in our closeness, in whispers and smiles.

Somewhere, the stillness was interrupted by a barking dog.

Ofelia laughed as I raised an eyebrow.

“Is there a dog in the Underworld?” I asked her.

She grinned, taking my hand. “Come, there’s so much to show you.”

I followed in her wake through the fragrant fields. “So much has changed in this world.... How can it be?”

“Soleil always had a talent for creating things,” Ofelia said over her shoulder. “He just needed the guidance of someone who remembers what it’s like above! And your letters, your poems, they helped us tremendously!”

Soleil? I hadn’t a clue who that could have been; the only others below were Marisol and the Shadow King. Had he made a bargain with some other poor soul in my absence?

“It’s so perfect, Lo,” she continued. “Whatever Mother wants to paint, he and I help craft it for her. We can change the landscape whenever we feel like it.”

We stepped out of the fields and onto the beach made of pink sand. Not far from us, Ofelia’s mother was painting the portrait of a blond man sitting in front of her. Resting on his lap was a strange dog that seemed to be made of black vapor. Another smaller one, also seemingly made of shadow, was curled up on the sand beside Marisol.

Before I could ask about this, Ofelia loudly declared my presence. Marisol set aside her brush and palette and bent down, letting the not-quite-dog leap into her arms. The blond man in a cerulean suit rose from a stone bench, and the two ambled toward us.

Marisol had changed in small ways—she wore her dark hair loosely and bore an easy smile on her face. Over her buttercup-yellow gown she wore her artist’s apron, covered in smudges of paint.

“Caballera de la Rosa,” she said in greeting.

“Just Lope, please, madam.”

Her eyes crinkled warmly. “I am happy to see you again, Lope. My daughter spoke so often of you. For you to choose a life down here, to give up the world above...”

I wove my fingers with Ofelia’s. “It’s an easy choice,” I said. I cast a quick glance at the stranger to her right but couldn’t help but focus on the odd-looking dog in the countess’s arms. “What... what is that?”

“It’s a Shadow,” said Ofelia, leaning forward to scratch behind its floppy ears. It lolled its black tongue and kicked its back foot as she petted him. “Soleil said they came to him asking for new forms, too. To change like the world has.”

The man extended a hand—but I paused. Where I thought his hair had been blond, it was now auburn, the same color as Ofelia’s. Perhaps it was a trick of this new world; perhaps my mind was addled with fatigue from all my journeying. I cautiously accepted his handshake. His eyes, to my great surprise, were the color of amethysts.

“What a delight it is to see you again,” he said with a white-toothed grin.

My brow furrowed. “Again, sir?”

He winked. “I looked a bit different last we met. But rest assured, I have not changed. You are still my favorite poet.”

His voice was faintly, faintly familiar—but softer, smoother, not whispered. Only one person—one being —called me their favorite poet.

My hand flopped to my side. “You’re the—the Shadow King?”

“He goes by Soleil now,” said Ofelia.

The king of Shadows, now named after the sun. In the light, his face kept changing—his nose would be small or large, his eyes would be bright blue or deep black, his jaw was sharp and square one second and round and smooth the next, and his skin shifted between different shades of warm brown tones.

“How can this be?” I whispered.

Soleil looked fondly at Ofelia. “My two friends. Most especially Ofelia. She remembers the world so vividly. The way she describes it is marvelous.” Ofelia’s pink skirts bloomed as she curtsied. He reached into his breast pocket, passing me a piece of paper. “And these! The poems you sent us inspired our work!”

I unfolded the page and found verses in my own hand. Vaguely, I remembered this poem, describing the line of the mountains jutting into the sky. As Ofelia had asked, I had fed it to the candle flame, as I would a sacrifice. The poems were not consumed or absorbed, then, but sent, preserved, to the king himself.

But there was one poem I had prepared for my reunion with Ofelia. I dug through my bag and pressed it into her hands.

“I owe you a poem,” I said to her. “I owe you a hundred.”

She folded the paper with a demure smile. “Nonsense. You may share your art with me when you feel ready to do so.”

“I’m ready.”

Ofelia grinned, flipping the paper open and reading it over. The words had been repeating themselves in my head over and over for weeks now. I bent close to her, my arms around her and my lips beside her ear as I read them aloud:

“I have seen the ice-peaked mountains,

The floating city,

The forest filled with flowers,

And yet as far as I’ve been,

As far as I’ve seen,

Nothing, nothing,

Is as beautiful as you.”

She laughed a little sob and then kissed me, pressing me close in a tight embrace. “Oh, I have missed you so!”

“I’ll not part from you again,” I said. “I promise.”

We soon remembered that we were standing there kissing and swooning before both Ofelia’s mother and the king of this realm. We parted, collecting ourselves—but tears rolled down Soleil’s face. The Shadow dog whimpered and wiggled in Marisol’s arms until she shifted the creature into the arms of the god. Soleil smiled a little bit as he pressed his creation against his heart. But there was heartbreak in his eyes.

“Soleil?” Ofelia asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I asked you to teach me about love,” he said, his voice pinched with emotion. “I wanted to learn how to be a human, and I—what a fool I’ve been.”

Marisol stepped closer to him, her hand against his shoulder. She looked him in the eyes not like a cowering subject, but as one friend to another. “What do you mean, dear?”

He set down the dog and let it scurry back to its napping spot on the beach. Soleil wiped at his eyes, his lips trembling. A bit speechless, I offered the god my handkerchief, which he accepted with profuse gratitude.

“Sacrifice,” he said tearfully. “ That is what love is. Ofelia, you were willing to stay here below so no one else was trapped. Marisol, you sacrificed the sun and life and freedom, so that you could be here with your daughter.”

Marisol wrapped an arm around Ofelia, beaming down at her. I could only imagine the strength of the bond they had formed over this long year together.

“And Lope,” he continued, “you had the chance to live in the world above, to go anywhere... but you gave that up. You gave that up so you could see Ofelia again.” He clutched his hands to his breast. “I have kept you for myself. I am—I am no human, try as I might to fool myself otherwise—”

“You’re more human than so many,” said Ofelia. “Far more than my... than my father.”

“Exactly.” Soleil shut his eyes, as if remembering something painful. “I... I do not wish to be alone. I fear it. But hoarding you for my own, when you could be above, feeling real air and real sunlight upon your face...”

The twilit king seemed to come to some conclusion. He placed his hand against Ofelia’s cheek. “You’re free to leave,” he said. “All of you.”

My heart skipped.

Ofelia was shaking her head. “No. No, I won’t leave you, you’ll be here all alone—”

“I have my Shadows,” he murmured. He gestured around him. “This whole world is thanks to you. It’s not the same; I’m not the same.” The god pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I will be all right, dear one.”

Marisol’s hands were clasped together as in supplication. “Are... are you certain about this, my lord?”

Soleil nodded, even as tears fell. His blue-green-golden eyes aligned with mine. “My heart, it aches . How do you bear the pain?”

“The pain you feel—that is love,” I said. “True love changes you. It leaves a mark upon you. Even if no one can see it.”

He was quiet for a moment, sliding his hand over the place where his heart should have been. His shoulder shuddered with breath. “Then... maybe I am human after all.”

The god bent down, meeting Ofelia eye to eye. A proud, brilliant smile brightened his face like sunshine. “Oh, Ofelia,” he said, his thumb brushing her freckled cheek. “You have fulfilled your promise to me. You have taught me how to love, just as you said you would. What a beautiful curse! What a tragic gift!”

Ofelia threw her arms around him, weeping. “I don’t know what to do! I cannot bear to leave you, and yet—”

“Your world calls to you, my dear one,” he said.

“But—but I will miss you so,” she whimpered.

An idea struck me. The same solution we’d had when Ofelia and I had been separated. I reached into my satchel and procured the small hand mirror.

“Sire,” I said softly. I held out the mirror, which glittered in the golden light. “We could continue to communicate, just as Ofelia and I did.”

Ofelia gasped and rooted around in the pocket of her gown until she procured her own small hand mirror. She curled Soleil’s fingers around it. “Take it,” she said, “and we shall speak often.”

He beamed down at Ofelia.

Her mother approached, wrapping her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “And there’s no reason we couldn’t come visit you again, my friend.”

Soleil pressed the mirror to his chest. “Would you really? Would you speak to me, would you remember me, would you think of me?”

Ofelia stood on her toes and kissed the warm human face of the god. “I promise,” she said. “And why should we be the only ones to know about you? We will tell others about you, about the great and kind god of stories, Soleil.”

The man, once the king of Shadows, grinned as he bowed deeply to Ofelia. “Until we meet again. I am grateful to have been a part of your story, dearest Ofelia.”

She squeezed his hand, her nose wrinkled. “The story’s not done yet.”

He neared the two of us, lifting Ofelia’s hand and placing it in my own. His eyes crinkled in the corners. “Indeed it is not,” he said.

We bade farewell to the god and his new world.

The countess ascended the staircase, and Ofelia’s fingers curled against my arm, a perfect fit.

Standing there at the foot of the stairs, she looked into my eyes, her smile pressing dimples into her rosy cheeks. “How sweet it is,” she said, “to be with my home once more.”

Pressing a kiss to her brow, I whispered, “Come with me into the light, my heart.”

And I led her above into the dazzling daylight.