She reached for his hand, brought it to her heart, then lowered it, pressing it against his chest.
“I release you,” she said, trembling. “I unsummon you. I break the bond.”
She’d been taught, somewhere, maybe not in words, but in patterns, that love was a storm you boarded the windows for. Those who were smart left before the wind hit. She’d always believed that was survival. Maybe it still was, perhaps it wasn’t.
There was a moment of silence while the words sank in.
“Blair, what did you do?”
She closed her eyes. “You’re free.”
Ashar didn’t move, but something in the air snapped tight, like a string pulled too far.
“I can’t lose you,” she said, voice shaking. “So I’m choosing to leave first. It’s what I always do. I’m better at endings than hope.”
Ashar’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is,” she snapped. “And if I let you stay, if I let myself want this, really want this, what happens when the magic decides I’m done? What happens when it rips you away, and I’m left with the echo of something that was never mine?”
“You think this is mercy?” he asked softly.
She swallowed. “I think it’s the only way I don’t destroy you.”
His voice cracked, not with anger, but devastation. “You think letting me go is love?”
“I think it’s survival.”
His expression shattered like glass.
“I wasn’t just summoned,” he said, voice breaking. “I chose to come. I fought to stay.”
“I know,” she whispered. “That’s what makes it worse.”
The air cracked.
“Blair,” he said quietly, like her name alone might be enough to anchor him.
But it wasn’t.
He stood slowly, bare, and wrecked.
“You’re not cursed,” he said. “But you’re sure as hell haunted.”
The air popped, the wax cracked, something on the bookshelf fell with a soft, final thud. And just like that, he was gone.
No burst of flame, no bright flash of light, just air, cold, and too still.
Blair sank, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, and whispered the only thing she couldn’t say out loud:
“Don’t go.”
But she was already alone. Blair’s body collapsed onto the floor.
Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She pressed her face to the rug, as if the floor could anchor her. As if silence could stitch her back together.
She didn’t cry, not at first, at least. She was too used to loss. But when the tears came, they came like floodwater. She didn’t know how long she had stayed there. Long enough to forget how to breathe without him in the room.
Maya called around noon.
