Together, they walked to Hewitt’s graveside.
The ghost took in the ivy patch. “Is this the Fire Mage’s work?”
“Only in part,” Evylin said. “I took an everbloom from Ryen’s grave and laid it to rest here with you. It seems her magic brought it back to life.”
“Mm.” Hewitt drew in a long, emotion-filled breath. “That’s good.”
He turned to them. “This is it,” he said with decided assurance. “I will sleep and find rest. Perhaps if the stories are right, I’ll wake in the Heavens and be reunited with my family. Either way, I’ll be at peace.”
Evylin’s throat grew painfully raw. Her chest tightened with a well of more tears.
Deckard kept his head high, but she could feel the tension leaking out of him as he fought his grief.
Hewitt’s steely eyes swept over them fondly. “Don’t miss me,” he ordered. “Live your lives and know that I’m proud of you. Both of you.”
They bore up under his charge.
“Evie,” his lips lifted in the smile he only gave her, “if I couldn’t have my son by my side in this life, there was none butyou I’d ask to take his place. The woman you’ve become is more than I ever imagined. I will always be thankful you chose me. I only wish I could have deserved your love.”
“You did,” Evylin sobbed. “I couldn’t have loved you more.”
Flexing his hand as though wishing to wipe away her tears, Hewitt shared her sad smile. “But I could have been better to you. Ishouldhave been better.”
“You were everything I wanted.”
Hewitt dipped his head, accepting her words. He turned to Deckard. “She chose you, but so did I,” he said. “Remember that. She’s yours because she chose you. But I gave her to you because I knew you’d take care of her the way she needed—even more than I could. Never forget that.”
“I swear to you,” Deckard said thickly, “I will do whatever I must—whatever it takes—to be sure she has the life she deserves. Just as you charged.”
With a step closer, Hewitt glared at him. “I chose you because of who you are,” he growled. “If you sacrifice the man you truly desire to become, youcan’tbe the man she needs. Do you understand?”
Deckard lifted his chin, expression pinched. But he gave a swift nod of acceptance.
Hewitt glanced at the grave. His lips pursed. “One more thing,” he murmured as though convincing himself. He turned to Evylin. “He’s yours. Don’t take that lightly. I could never have entrusted you to someone less than him. Care for him the way he cares for you. He deserves that too.”
“I know,” Evylin promised, leaning into Deckard. “I will.”
Hewitt smiled softly, then reluctantly said, “I’m ready.”
Evylin could feel her husband holding his breath as he straightened. Her heart jolted with sudden panic. “Wait,” she said, gripping his arm. “Wait, I—I’mnot ready.”
Both men looked at her with sadness.
“I have to go, my dear,” Hewitt said. “Sooner or later.”
Evylin nodded through her tears. She stepped up to him, holding his deep gray stare. “I have to know,” she whispered.
“Know what?”
“I need your help,” she confessed. “One last time, I need your advice.”
Hewitt dipped his chin, listening.
“I’ve lost who I am,” she said. “For so long, my life was Ryen’s—living for the dream we’d promised to share. But now...I’ve done it. Yet, it doesn’t feel anything like what I hoped it would. What do I do?”
Her uncle’s gaze was gentle and affectionate. “I can’t decide that for you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” she promised. “I just need to know: This life—this adventure—there are moments of joy and adrenaline and excitement. It’s thrilling, and it makes me feel alive. But then there arethesemoments.” The words caught with her tears. “Moments of pureagonyand pain.”
