Page 195 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

He nods, thumbs swiping wetness away from my face. A futile act, because another stream of tears takes its place. “I know,” he says, choked. “I know, Lilipad.”

“Some loss is too great,” I sob.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Are you fucking serious?” Wren seethes.

Bastion glares up at her. “What the fuck happened to your empathy?” he snaps. “Did all that extra power take up the space you had for it?”

“I’m not going to cosign her killing herself!”

Bastion rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. The next time Wren inhales to speak, nothing comes out. Bastion stares at me, his eyes searching mine.

“Are you certain, Lilipad?” he asks, sniffling. “There may be a way to get your magic back. And there will be more men and women—things we can’t even see right now, you know?”

I think about it, looking back down at Damien’s lifeless face. I think about the road ahead as the marble continues falling away around us. No wider than a corridor, now. Waking up every day without Damien, and having to negotiate myself out of bed. Having to face every day alone, as only half of myself.

“I’m so tired,” I sob.

Bastion nods, his own tears falling. “I know.”

“If we’re going to get out of here, it has to be now,” Aemon says.

Bastion looks up at Aemon, then back at me. “Come back with us,” he says. “Please.”

But I can’t see the other side of this grief. Even if my magic returned to me tomorrow, I can’t see the end of my suffering knowing that Damien died because of me.

I shake my head. “I can’t.”

Bastion’s lips press together and he heaves out a hitching breath before pulling me into a crushing embrace.

“I’m so sorry we failed you, Lilipad,” he says into my hair. “I’m so sorry.”

I can’t even speak anymore. I just wrap my arms around him and squeeze back, nodding. Wren doesn’t look at me. All I see is the tangled waves of her dark hair. I know she’s furious with me. I know she won’t ever forgive me.

But I’m so tired of living my life for everyone but myself. Wherever Damien is now, I want to be there. I don’t want to wait until some monster devours my soul. I know a curtain call when I see it, and I don’t need an encore of this devastation.

Bastion sighs as he separates from me. He wipes my tears one last time then gives a single, firm nod. As if trying to steel himself. “Alright,” he says, then stands.

I look at Wren, but she still doesn’t look at me. She only holds her hand out for Bastion. He takes it, then Aemon takes Bastion’s. Yes. She’ll never forgive me. But fine. I won’t care. I’ll be dead.

Aemon looks at me, his expression bleak. “It’s been an honor to know you, Miss Nightingale.”

“Thank you for trying,” I make myself say.

And then they’re gone. Blinked out of existence, leaving me with the body of the man I have loved more than anything else in my life.

I tilt his face toward me, finding it even more pale, if that’s even possible. I make a futile effort to clean the blood sludge stains off of his face, but they’re dried on. They don’t budge. I slide down into the slime still left on the floor. Settling into the nook between his arm and his torso, fresh tears spring to my eyes as images of laughing next to him in my bed, on the floor, in the car in this exact position play in my mind’s eye. I wrap his slackened arm around my waist and sob at how cold it already is. How heavy and unresponsive.

“I love you, Damien,” I say. “I’m coming to get you.”

The marble vanishes from beneath our feet. I wrap myself more tightly around him and hold on. But we don’t fall when the floors vanish. We just drift in the endless void. For a moment, a spike of panic seizes me. I might just have to lie here next to him as I slowly starve to death. That really would be hell.

But just as quickly as the panic comes, it ebbs away, replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion that hangs from my eyelids.

The last thing I see before I lose consciousness is Damien’s face, peaceful in its lifelessness. I didn’t see it before, but I think I see it now. The barest upward tilt of the corners of his mouth.

Maybe... maybe he was smiling when he died.