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Zetas whined with a single wag of her tail.
He turned to stroke her. To find comfort in her. But he froze mid-move, his smoky gaze cutting through the dark.
His eyes locked on mine, shiny with rage, shadowy with grief.
The moth vanished in a puff of silver, and I wished I knew what the insect had told him. Why he believed such awful things. Why he was prepared to walk away after proving to me, time and time again, that we belonged to one another.
My heart stuttered, and I swallowed back the death he’d caused. I let go of this afternoon and the wrathful magic he’d wielded.
“Darro...”
He cursed under his breath, then stalked straight toward me, a predator hunting his prey. His entire body bristled with anger and shame, his skin searing mine as he stopped ever so close.
I flinched.
I couldn’t help it.
My instincts screamed to back away, to flee from the presence of death itself.
And he saw.
A guttural noise sounded in his chest just as Syn squirmed out of my hold, trotting toward Zetas where she sat on her haunches beneath the twisted tree. The two beasts watched us but didn’t interfere—almost as if they knew this was the parting they’d always wanted. The acknowledgment that we were different. We were opposites. And no matter what our hearts craved, we couldn’t change that tragic, painful fact.
I trembled as Darro lifted his hand, his fingers lethal in the dark.
I raised my chin and locked my knees as he reached toward my cheek.
I braced myself for the touch of his power.
The cessation of my breathing.
But his fingers hovered a fraction away from my cheekbone, and his eyes darkened with self-loathing. “You’re afraid of me.” Dropping his hand, his voice was bleak.
“I’m not afraid—”
“I see it in your eyes, Runa.” Hanging his head, he whispered. “I would never hurt you. I’ve vowed it so many times, yet after what you saw me do today, I understand why you don’t believe me.”
He turned away slowly, his steps heavy with loss. “And I don’t blame you.” With a sigh, he growled, “Return to the Nhil and your mate. That is where you belong.”
I struggled to breathe. “I’m not afraid of you, Darro. I merely want—”
“What?” He spun back to face me. “What do you want me to say, Runa? That I’m sorry for killing those beasts? That I’m sorry for being what I am? That I’m sorry I didn’t let you die with the rest of those mortals?” His voice thickened. “What I should apologise for is finding you in the first place and letting hope get in the way of truth!”
“What truth?”
“The truth of us!” he roared. Lines appeared around his eyes, carving his face with sorrow. “I am death! It’s not just rumours or whispers or prophecies but fact. I remember, Runa. I remember a piece of who I am. What I am.”
Ignoring my racing heart, I carefully stepped toward him. “And what are you? What do you mean when you say you are death?”
He shook his head as if unable to believe what he was about to confess. “I am the void that all things exist in. I am the black where homeless spirits wait. The gatekeeper of everything lost, dead, and missing.”
I didn’t know what to say.
He’d remembered far more than me.
While I’d done my best to be something I wasn’t—tangling my mind with riddles of medicines and fire reading—Darro had sunk deep within, activating his power whether he wanted it or not.
“I know now why we forgot,” he whispered, padding back toward me, slowly, sadly. “We forgot each other because this is our punishment.” He looked up, capturing me in his smoke-churning stare. “Every time we remember, it never ends well.”
“Every time?” I swallowed hard.
He laughed under his breath, ice forming on every word. “It’s not the first time we’ve forgotten each other. I no longer want this heartache. I won’t survive it. Not again.” He hid his face in his hands. “I can’t be near you, Runa. Don’t you get it?”
Dropping his hands, he shrugged so sadly, so brokenly that fresh tears came to my eyes.
“You haven’t found your true power yet, but I’m beginning to,” he whispered. “I know I’ll end up killing you.” His voice cracked. “And what I saw today...” He shook his head. “I saw you die, Runa. I heard your heart give out and that bull crush your—”
He choked and tripped away.
What did he mean? How had he seen?
I followed him, my own grief bleeding hot. “Darro—”
“Fuck!” He punched the closest tree, driving his fist into the bark, making the entire trunk shudder.
I froze.
A shower of leaves tumbled again, some still green, some burnt orange. A glossy emerald one landed on his arm. He snatched it up.
Holding it in his palm, he presented it to me. “This is what I am, Runa. This is why I can never touch you.” It only took a moment. Just a single moment for the glossy green leaf to shrivel into bronze dust in his hand.
