Page 138 of Aïdes the Unseen

I saw my beginning.

My equal.

My chosen.

“They will have their own stories,” I said softly. “But this one… this one is ours.”

He nodded. “And I will tell it for as long as stories are remembered.”

Outside, the laurel moon rose—silver, steady, and soft as a lullaby.

Deep in the heart of the Underworld, where death no longer meant forgetting, I held both life and memory in my arms. We were the end and the beginning, and what we created together was life.

We were loved and we loved.

THE END