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"Your magic cannot sustain me for long, Viola."
"I am going to bring you back!" I say, even though as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they are false.
There is no returning him to this plane.
He sits up, reaching out and clasping our hands. "I'm gone, but I will find my peace. Please, do not worry over me."
"This is my fault," I say quietly. Mace whips his head to me, about to yell and ask questions when Zeph interrupts.
"It is not. I made the decision to sacrifice myself in devotion to you. You needed the magic to save Mace."
Mace drops Zeph's hand as if he's burnt, covering his mouth. "You killed yourself for me?"
"You would have died, brother."
"You did die!" Mace shouts, pulling at his hair. "You died! You killed yourself. And for what?"
"For you. I have not always been the best brother, Mace, but I fucking love you." Zeph grabs his brother by the hand and pulls him in for a hug, and for a moment, I could almost forget that he's dead. But I feel the drain on my magic, the weight on my limbs as my body starts to struggle to maintain the illusion of life I have created. "I could not watch you die, brother. I have done all I was supposed to do in this world. But you, you have so much left. There is so much you have yet to do. You and Viola. This realm needs you both."
"I needed you," I say softly, looking into the eyes of my high priest. "I need you."
His face is sad as he gathers both of my hands in his, shaking his head. "High priest is a title that will be passed on. It's not time for it yet, but soon it will be."
"What does that mean?" Must he speak in riddles? Can he not, this last time, tell me directly what he means?
"It means what I said. You'll need to finish this battle without a high priest, but I am sure you will not be without forever." He sighs, a strange act from someone who does not breathe. "Viola, the trust you placed in me as your high priest was the greatest gift you could ever have given me."
"It got you killed." My voice is soft and Mace gathers me into his arms, both of us staring at the final dredges of his brother's spirit. "You would've been okay without me."
"You know that's not true. From the moment you were born, I was your high priest. It was determined, and it came to be." I watch him as he speaks, memorizing his features. There is so much Zeph and I had left to do together.
How can he look so serene when I feel like the ground beneath my feet is crumbling?
Mace touches Zeph's face, shivering at how cold his skin has already grown. "I am going to miss you, brother."
"And I you, Mace." Zeph looks at me knowingly as if he is still my high priest and knows how much magic is being drained from me. He grabs Mace's hand again and pulls both of us into his arms.
Mace's sob racks his chest as he buries himself into the crook of Zeph's neck. "I love you, Zeph," he cries, pulling back to rest his forehead on his brothers. "Go easy. Go well."
"I love you, brother," Zeph replies. And then he looks at me, resting his forehead on mine. "Shadowweaver."
My voice catches in my throat. "High priest."
"Do not bring me back again." I rear back as if slapped, shockedat the harsh tone of his voice. "Let me rest, Viola. Mourn me, but move on and grow within your life. Get rid of Himureal and have the life you always dreamed of."
"I…" The words get stuck in my throat. It's hard for me to admit my feelings so openly in such a raw moment, but I cannot let Zeph go without saying what I need to. "I don't want to let you go."
A sad smile flits across his face briefly. "I know you don't."
"Is there no way I can bring you back? No chance that you can come back for good? What is the use of this magic if I cannot use it to save you?"
"Viola, even if you could bring me back, I would not be the same. Let me rest, Shadowweaver." He cups my face, those green eyes I know so well sad but dry.
A corpse can't cry, after all.
"Promise me," he says, pulling me closer. "I cannot go on without knowing you will continue on without me, and I know your magic cannot sustain this much longer." He's right. My vision is blackening at the edges, and my chest aches, though that may be the grief that I am attempting to subvert. "Promise me, Viola!" he all but shouts, shaking me.
"Fine, Zeph! Fine." The tears fall, tears that I fought so hard to keep contained, and I gasp at how raw my cheeks feel from the salt that has tracked down them today. "I will let you go, high priest."
