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“Whatever you do,” he says gently but firmly, “don’t walk into it.” I turn back to him, my chest tightening.

“That isn’t your path, Nes,” he continues, voice steady over the rush of water. “It’s mine.” My eyes narrow, questions clawing their way up my throat.

“Yes,” he says, answering before I can ask. “It’s exactly what you think it is.” His expression doesn’t waver. “Your body is healing. You can make it.” He steps closer and the cold deepens between us.

“I’m already dead.” His gaze drops to my arm, to the wound still burning beneath my skin, then back up to my neck where violet bruises mark my skin. When he looks back at me, there’s no fear. He just seems to know. “You must be in pretty bad shape to be here,” he murmurs, “right on the cusp.”

He reaches for me, lifting my arm with a touch so careful it nearly unravels me. His broken fingers hover over the wound, reverent, before drifting upward to the bruises blooming along my neck. His jaw tightens.

“A main artery was hit,” he says quietly. “It’ll take a miracle for you to wake up.” His gaze lifts to mine, dark and unbearably sad. “But you have to keep fighting.”

My lips part. The words scrape their way out, fragile and raw. “How am I talking to you?” I whisper. “What is this place?”

He smiles. Gods, that smile. Even broken, even bloodied, it still stirs something deep inside me. I never thought I would ever see it again.

“Well…” He gestures to the black water surrounding us, its surface rippling gently at our feet. “This is the bridge between life and death.” The air seems to hum at his words.

“Some choose to stay here,” he continues, voice calm and tender. “They wait. Hoping they’ll see the ones they love again.” His eyes flick briefly to mine. “Others walk into the light. They let go of pain, of their bodies, of who they were, until there’s nothing left to hold them back.”

The water hums louder now, vibrating through my bones. I swallow hard. “You waited?” The question trembles between us.

“I did,” he says. “Though I was hoping I wouldn’t see you. Because if I did… that meant you were gone. Or nearly so.” My chest tightens.

“I knew you’d go after Silas,” he continues, eyes never leaving mine. “But I also knew you wouldn’t lose.” A flicker of a grin tugs at his bruised mouth, that same mischievous glint that used to drive me mad, that used to make everything feel lighter.

“Looks like you won.”

A fragile laugh escapes me, breaking halfway out of my throat. “I did,” I whisper. “But judging by the state of me, I’m not doing very well.” My voice trembles as I take in more of my surroundings. “I’ve never been this close before. Never been here before.”

He steps nearer. The water around us stirs, dark spirals curling at our legs. “Nes,” he says gently, and my name has never sounded so full of meaning. “You have to be strong. Fight for the ones you love. Fight for yourself.”

His gaze lifts to mine, eyes steady, certain. “And when you can,” he adds quietly, “tell them you love them. Don’t leave words unsaid. Don’t live a life full of regret. Love is a power, not a weakness, Nes.”

A tear slips down my cheek, heavy with everything I never said. The very regret he speaks of blooms, sharp and sudden. I should have told him how much he mattered. How much he still does. “I’m sorry I was so cold,” I say. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before—”

“Don’t feel pressured, Nes. I know how you feel, you don’t have to say it.” He reassures me with that same damn knowing smirk that has always gotten the best of me.

He reaches out, brushing away my tear with the back of his cold hand, impossibly gentle. “I love you,” he whispers. “I always have. Even when I learned about what you do… what’s been done to you, I loved you.” His voice trembles just slightly. “Please, just let yourself be loved the way you deserve.”

The words crack my heart open. “I don’t deserve to be loved, Maddoc,” I choke out, struggling to maintain my composure. “I’m cruel. Violent. The things I’ve done—” The sentence collapses before I can finish it.

“What you’ve done,” he says, steady as ever, “what you were trained to do, what they took from you, that was never your fault.” His gaze holds mine. I break eye contact. Everything in my body is fighting not to show that side of myself. No one has ever told me it’s not my fault. I have always blamed myself. I’m the one who holds the blade, who gives the final blow. I look my victims in their eyes and watch the life drain from them.

“You were trained so early. You were barely old enough to know better,” he continues. “Shaped by hands that wanted a weapon, not a soul. I’m so sorry for everything you endured.” He pauses. “But now,” he says, hope threading through the sorrow, “you have a clean slate.” A small, sad smile crosses his face. “The world is yours, Nes.” He lifts a gloved hand and brushes his fingers along my cheek, the touch lingering like he’s trying to memorize me, like he wants to fix every shattered piece but knows he can’t.

“However, Nes…” His voice lowers, steady and sure. “Never bow to anyone. Never bow to the throne.” His dark chestnut eyes search mine, fierce with belief. “Make them bow to you.” The words settle into me.

For everything the king has done to innocents, mythical beings, and royals like Maddoc, I will take the throne, make Coral Haven bow to me. And for myself, who has lost so much due to his rule. No one again shall ever have to live in fear and obey his every law. I want the king to feel the pain he has put so many through.

“And something tells me,” he adds quietly, “that you’re in good hands.” I tilt my head, confusion pulling at my brow. “What are you talking about?”

A faint smile ghosts across his bruised mouth. “You’ll see soon enough.” Then, gently, almost pleading, he says, “But I need you to wake up now, all right?” Panic surges. I’m not ready to leave him. Not again.

I grab his hand, clutching it like it’s the only thing tethering me here. It is, after all. “No,” I breathe. “I won’t ever see you again.” My voice fractures. “I’m so sorry. I was too late. I should’ve never left.”

His gaze softens, warmth and finality braided together in a way that steals the breath from my lungs. “None of this is your fault, Nes,” he says. “Don’t carry it on your shoulders.” His thumb brushes my knuckles once. “Every moment, knowing you, feeling you, loving you, was worth every scar. Every breath. Every end.” My heart splits open, breaking all over again.

He gently loosens his grip on my hand. Before I can stop him, he leans in and presses a final kiss to my forehead. Water spills down around us, the roar of the falls swallowing the moment whole. His hair catches the light, silver and unreal. He’s already slipping away.