Page 100 of Her Creation

And then, as if someone had snuffed out the very light, the sparkle left her eyes.

“Helena! Helena! Please—” Victoria cried, pressing her face to her friend’s, feeling the chill of death seep into her bones.

It was too late.

The message had been delivered.

Victoria sank to the floor, the sobs ripping from her chest raw and guttural, as the silence of the laboratory pressed down like stone. Outside, the wind rattled against the windows as if the heavens themselves grieved with her. And in that endless, echoing chamber, she was left with only the weight of loss, the guilt that burned hotter than any fire, and the unbearable knowledge that Innominatus would not stop until she succumbed.

Chapter 28

Log entry

March, 1803

Recounting events 1773–1795 Location: Unknown

The fabric of her dress clung to her body, sodden and cold, pressing uncomfortably against her skin. Every drop of rain seemed to pull her spirit down further, heavier than it should have been able to sink. She shivered, not only from the cold, but from the weight of the knowledge she carried. The only way to end her suffering and the torment she had unleashed on the world was to surrender to the darkness that gnawed at her heart. To do so would damn her utterly.

Her hand tightened around the hilt of the blade she carried. It was the only thing she believed could save her, and perhaps everyone else. She had unleashed this monster upon the world, and it was her burden to destroy him. She should have done so when her father had commanded it, if she had been stronger, braver, more resolute, and not already ensnared by the forbidden devotion that now threatened to crush her.

The forest path stretched before her, dark and unwelcoming. The wind tore through the trees, whipping her long hair into a storm around her face, as if the elements themselves sought to turn her back. She stumbled over roots and uneven ground, yet her feet moved forward with a grim, unrelenting purpose.

Through the trees, the abandoned church emerged, crumbling and blackened with age, a spectre in the storm. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the ruins in stark, white light. And then she saw him—the monstrous silhouette, taller and darker than any human form, in front of the church. He watched her, silent, motionless, a sentinel born of shadow and rage.

Her chest constricted. Her heart snagged on the jagged remnants of all she had endured. She could not look away. She could not turn back. Victoria paused a few feet from him, blinking away the mingled rain and tears that blurred her vision. And then she saw him fully.

Not the monster she feared, but the man who had stolen her heart. The beautiful face that had caused her so much anguish, so much longing, was fixed upon her, still and commanding, yet impossibly distant.

The storm roared around her, the forest seemed to lean closer, and the air itself carried the weight of what was to come. She had reached the edge of damnation, and there he stood, waiting.

She glanced back toward her mother’s headstone, barely able to make out the moss-speckled stone through the rain and darkness, though she knew exactly where it lay. A few feet away rose a raw mound of earth—the grave he’d dug for her father.

Her chest tightened so sharply it stole the breath from her lungs, and her fingers curled harder around the blade. The metal bit into her palm, grounding her in the pain.

There was no other way. He could not be in this world.

At least ten innocent people had died by his hand, and she knew as she held Helena’s body that Inno would stop at nothing until he had her. No amount of death or sin would stop him.

She turned back to face him, fighting to keep the tears from blinding her. When she looked at him, despite what he had done, she felt a love so profound it felt undeserved. She could never look at him the same after what he had done. But an immoral, unethical love still claimed her heart. She had come here to kill him to save her own soul from damnation and the rest of humanity from his destruction.

The cruelty of it all was that she understood him.

Rain streamed down Inno’s face as he took in her expression, solemn and searching. His gaze dropped to her hand, to the blade glinting faintly in the storm’s light. Something in him softened. His mouth tightened, and he released a slow, uneven breath before giving a small nod. His eyes brimmed, then spilled. Acceptance, not shock, settled over his features as he looked away into the darkness.

Victoria struggled to remain standing as she watched the tears fall silently down his face. He had always been unyielding, commanding. Seeing him cry felt like a curse laid upon her soul in itself.

“Why Helena?” she rasped, her voice splintered with grief. “Why the only person I had left?”

He stared at the ground for a moment, rain striking his lashes, before lifting his gaze to hers.

“I killed what you loved because love has become unbearable to witness,” he answered quietly. “Killing Helena, knowing what it would do to you, only hollowed me further. It finalized my exile. If I am to die, as it appears I am”—his eyes flicked to the blade—“then know that I offer no excuses. I am only a man denied love who decided that the world must share his loss.”

“I could never forgive you,” Victoria said, rain choking the words as they left her mouth.

“I don’t seek forgiveness.” His voice barely rose above the storm. “I do not forgive myself. There is no absolution in this. If I am truly unlovable to you, then this is only confirmation of your belief.” Her jaw clenched until it ached. “I cannot offer you regret,” he continued. “This is what I am now. You were right not to return my love.” Rain clung to his lips as he spoke. “I am a monster. I care for nothing but you. And if I cannot have you, I will ensure the world suffers as I do.”

Victoria squeezed her eyes shut as she lifted the blade, her arm trembling beneath its weight. When she opened them again, resolve burned through the grief. “I have to,” she whispered. “Before you hurt another.”