Page 174 of The Immortal’s Mark

“Don’t—please—I can’t—”

“Shh.”

I’m smiling. I don’t know why. This doesn’t seem like a smiling situation. Dying usually isn’t, and I would know.

But there’s something funny about all of it—eight hundred years of running, and this is how it ends. Not in some meaningless battle. Not in some pointless accident. Not alone, in a ditch somewhere, wondering if anyone would notice I was gone.

In the arms of a man I love.

In a tomb built for love.

For love.

There are worse ways to go. I’ve experienced most of them.

“I need you to do something for me,” I manage. The words are getting harder to form. My tongue feels thick. Clumsy.

“Anything.” The word comes out broken. Absolute. Like he means it—like he’d do anything, promise anything, give anything if it would keep me here.

He can’t. Nothing can. That’s not how this works.

I’m supposed to say something profound. Something meaningful. Something that captures eight hundred years of loneliness and a few months of love and the weight of a sacrifice that might save him or might damn us both.

Some final wisdom for the man I’m leaving behind. Some comfort he can carry with him through the years I won’t be there to share.

But I’ve never been good at profound. I’ve always been better at the other thing.

“Tell Dumpling I’m sorry about dinner.”

His face—

I don’t see his reaction. Don’t see if he laughs or cries or does that thing where his composure cracks and something soft shows through. Don’t see if he understands what I’m really saying: I’m sorry I won’t be there. I’m sorry I’m leaving. I’m sorry this is the only way I knew how to say I love you.

My vision is going dark. Closing in from the edges, the world narrowing to a single point of light that’s getting smaller by the second.

His face. His eyes. The weight of his arms around me.

Then nothing.

Eight hundred years, I think. Eight hundred years, and I’m tired. Let me rest. Let me—

The last thing I hear is Ren screaming my name.

Then nothing.

Darkness.

Finally.

Permanent.

Or so I think.