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The precious babe laid in the hands
of a farmer and his wife.
Torn between two worlds,
the boy becomes a man,
ready to rip the fabric of two cities
to save his precious land.”
Evie stops reading. Her voice is low as she says, “There’s one more part.”
We already know, but we don’t stop her.
“Maribel Nexus Windsong-Barellis and Bastian Aidan Hale.
Both from different worlds
and destined to tear each other apart.”
The room remains silent, letting the prophet’s words spin in our heads. A million thoughts fight for my attention as I struggle to grasp one. Our connection. It’s so obvious. We’re drawn together because of fate. We need to work together to take down the cities before we turn on each other. And he’s from the First City—the enemy. Has he been playing me all along, knowing I was the second savior? I want to scream and roll up in a ball at the same time.
I narrow my eyes, struggling to look him in the face. “Did you know?”
His skin is deathly pale as rare tears well in his eyes. He’s putting on a good show if he knows something. “No.” He leans forward, holding his head in his hands.
Grayson stands and paces in front of the fireplace, arms folded. “We can’t start pointing fingers. He’s our brother. If he says he didn’t know, we must believe him.” He stops pacing and approaches the table, resting his hands on it, and leans forward. “But if I find out you’ve played us all this time, you’ll wish you were dead.”
Bastian scrapes back his chair and storms out the back door, letting it slam behind him.
Evie sits on the table beside Grayson. She runs her hand up his arm. “Think about what he’s going through. Not only is he the second savior, but he’s just found out his whole life’s a lie and he’s from the First City. Who’s his father? Who’s his mother? I’ve never heard of children in Arazian’s realm.”
My mixed emotions tug at me from all sides, threatening to tear me apart. All the hope I had before we traveled to Frostacre, smashed to pieces by the fae. And in all this, I thought I knew Bastian. He connected with me in a way no one else could, even Levi. How I long for my friend’s advice.
Grayson looks out the rear window and then the front one, most likely looking for Bastian. “We’ve got trouble.”
“What is it?” Evie joins him at the window, hiding behind the curtain. “What does he want? He’s carrying something.”
I push back my chair to join them, curious. A tall fairy with long, dark hair stands on the border of the protective barrier. In his arms, he holds a body. He stares at us for what seems like hours before laying his load on the ground and walking away.
“Bracken.” Grayson lets the curtain fall and heads for the front door. “He’s returned Levi’s body.”
Evie and I follow him outside as he jogs across the yard and lifts our brother to his chest. Seeing his lifeless form, Grayson lets out a sob, clutching him closer as tears run down his cheeks.
In my life love leads to loss. First my father, then my mother, and then Levi. Who else will I have to lose to bring freedom to the wilderness? I turn to see Bastian standing by the corner of the cabin.
As much as each loss in my life has torn me apart, I’d rather love someone with every fiber of my being and lose them than never love at all. I want to run to him and throw myself into his arms, lose myself in him, but I refrain. We need to bury Levi.
Grayson and Bastian dig a hole beside our brother’s flower garden while Evie and I wrap his body in a blanket. Before covering him up, I take one last look at his perfect face. His glasses were lost somewhere along the way, and bruises cover his skin, but he still has a kindly pout on his lips and dark wisps of hair contrasting with his deathly pale skin. Knowing his soul is no longer with him, I fold the blanket over his face, tucking it behind his head.
Bastian shovels the last bit of dirt over the grave while we sprinkle flower seed over the freshly turned soil. With a watering can, Evie provides moisture to the plot, and within minutes, flowers pop through, brimming with new life.
Leaning closer to me, Grayson says, “Fae magic.”
“I’d like to speak first.” Evie crouches beside the grave and runs her fingernail along a petal on a purple flower. “Levi Crassus taught me everything I know about acceptance. As part of the deaf community, he understood prejudice, hatred, and rejection by his own people. He could have turned this into bitterness, but he loved more than anyone I’ve ever met. I’m eternally grateful for what he’s given me.” She stands and steps back, the purple flower in her hand.
I swallow back the lump growing in my throat. Tears sting my eyes for what seems like the hundredth time since we left Frostacre. The thought of entering his room—our room—makes me want to give up and fight harder at the same time.
