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Rayze was silent for a moment, then let out a ghostly sigh. "I understand. Maybe it's for the best."
"No, I don't accept that," I said, a surge of determination coursing through me. "We'll find another way. We have to."
Rayze looked at me, and I could feel the affection in his gaze. "Rowan, you're incredible. But you don't have to keep fighting for something that might be impossible."
"I want to," I insisted, my voice firm. "I'm not giving up on us, Rayze. Not yet."
We spent the rest of the evening talking, going over every detail in the PDF from Aunt Maeve, discussing our options, no matter how far-fetched they seemed. It was a conversation filled with hope and desperation, a testament to the strange and beautiful connection we shared.
The night stretched on, a mix of desperate research and heavy silence. Rayze's presence was a constant in the room, both comforting and a painful reminder of our situation. We were trying to find a way to be together, but with every dead end, my hope waned.
Then, Rayze broke the silence, his voice echoing in my mind. "Maybe... maybe we shouldn't be forcing this. There's so much about how to release a ghost to whatever comes next. Maybe that's what we should do."
His words hit me like a physical blow. "What? You want to leave?" I asked, my voice cracking with a mix of hurt and disbelief.
"It's not about wanting to leave you, Rowan," Rayze said, his tone gentle yet firm. "It's about what's natural, what's supposed to happen. I've always known I needed to move on."
"Did I do something wrong?" My mind raced with doubt and self-blame.
"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he assured me. "It's just... this isn't natural, us trying to be together like this."
I felt a surge of anger, mixed with an overwhelming sadness. "So, that's it? You're just going to give up?"
"It's not about giving up. It's about accepting reality," Rayze said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I'm already gone, Rowan. Maybe as a witch, you're the one who can help me move on."
"I won't do it," I said, standing up, my fists clenched at my sides. "I won't be the one to send you away."
"Then you've already lost me," Rayze's voice was soft, resigned.
With those words, he vanished, leaving me alone in the room. The sudden absence of his presence was a void, cold and empty. I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. My hopes, our plans, everything we had talked about – it all felt shattered.
I cried in defeat, the realization sinking in that Rayze was right. We had been fighting against the natural order of things, against the very essence of life and death. And in doing so, we had only prolonged our pain.
The room felt colder, emptier than it ever had. I was alone, truly alone, without even the ghostly presence of Rayze to keep me company. The tears kept coming, a torrent of grief and loss that I couldn't stop.
As dawn broke, the first rays of light crept into the room, casting long shadows on the floor. I sat there, exhausted and drained, my mind numb.
The reality of the situation was clear now. Rayze needed to move on, and I needed to let him go. But knowing that didn't make it any easier. The pain of losing him was sharp, a constant ache in my heart.
I stood up, my legs shaky, and looked around the room. It was just a room now, nothing special, nothing magical. Just four walls and a ceiling, holding a world of memories and lost dreams.
I knew what I had to do, even though every part of me resisted it. I had to let Rayze go, to set him free. It was the kindest, most loving thing I could do for him. But as I prepared to face the day, to face a world without Rayze, I couldn't help but feel like a part of me was dying too.
Chapter Eleven - Rayze
Wandering the city as an invisible specter, I felt more detached from the world than ever before. The bustling streets, the people going about their daily lives, everything seemed distant, like I was observing another world through a foggy lens.
In a moment of longing for something, anything that felt real, I possessed a passerby just to taste an ice cream. The cold sweetness on my tongue was a fleeting reminder of life, but it paled in comparison to the intensity of what I had felt with Rowan. I released the person quickly, feeling a twinge of guilt for using them like that.
Later, I did the same to savor a cup of coffee, the rich aroma and warmth a brief respite from my cold existence. But again, it felt empty, meaningless. Nothing compared to the connection, the warmth I had shared with Rowan.
As evening approached, I found myself drawn back to La Societe de la Nuit. The club was a sanctuary and a prison, all at once. There, amidst the thrumming music and the ever-shifting crowd, I found Rowan, looking resigned and weary.
"I'm sorry," they said as I approached, their voice low and heavy with emotion. "I want to help you. I think we'll find answers in this book."
Rowan handed me a book that discussed putting spirits to rest. It felt like a punch to the gut, the finality of it hitting me hard.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice a hollow echo in their mind.
