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My job, at the end of such a long existence, is to die well. Your job is to bring Evie back to life.
A.D.
I whispered, “You are worthy.”
The script of that one line had been worn down, the paper roughened—and I knew Jack had run his finger over that sentence again and again through the years.
You are worthy.
Whenever he’d doubted himself, he’d read this letter, and Aric had reminded him.
You are worthy.
Maybe I’d been too busy with the kids to understand how much Jack had needed to know . . .
You are worthy.
Aric had been cheering him on from the grave.
Oh, Jack. You were so worthy.
With a trembling hand, I gave the letter back to Tee. “Why did you want me to read this now?”
“Because you’re not finished. The world still needs hope. We’re not in a new age. Not yet.”
A new age? Be careful what you ask for, son. My hair began to redden.
How much pain could I be expected to withstand? I flared my claws, and it was excruciating. But I could bear it until I murmured in the imposter Hierophant’s ear, Come, touch . . .
Tee said, “Join us in this campaign, Mom.”
“No.” I stood on my own. “You stay here and keep order. I’ve got this.”
With him and his siblings securing the region, I would ride out. But I’d do more than defeat this Hierophant. I would stamp out the Teeth in their own den.
It might not be my way, but I can hunt. Like Kentarch, I wouldn’t stop until I’d completed the mission.
The red witch hadn’t died. She’d simply been dormant, waiting for spring so she could bloom once more. . . .
56
The Empress
Year 46 N.D.
Today I turned sixty-four, and Tee forty-six. He himself was a doting grandfather of two now.
My families with Aric and with Jack had grown, branches expanding like a mighty oak, our roots deepening and strengthening.
Unlike me. I was a shadow of myself, the red witch quieted forever.
My years-long campaign against the Hierophant imposter and his ilk had been successful, but those battles had ravaged me. I’d limped home to my Haven, supernaturally aged and racked with anguish. I looked and felt ancient.
The years that had once zoomed past now dragged by as my health continued to worsen. I might’ve expected the passage of time to mute my grief from having lost both Aric and Jack, but it didn’t. People thought I’d found peace; in truth, I lacked the energy to manifest what I was feeling.
A few weeks ago, when my granddaughter asked me to grow her a flower, I’d been helpless to deny her, had used my powers for the first time since the mines. Such a small outlay had debilitated me; the doctor said I’d had a stroke and would likely have more.
I was bedbound, would be for the rest of my life. An eternal life?
I didn’t know. Apparently, Matthew was sick and aged too, but now he was all alone. We’d heard from several accounts that he’d separated from the Wise Mothers, informing them, “I’ve told you all you need to know.” His words were a close echo of what my grandmother had once said to me.
He could have ended his life at any time. Did he plan to outlast me? Even though he must remember the desolation of immortality?
I ached to think about him wandering the earth for centuries—alone—with one foot in the grave. How could I leave him to that fate? He didn’t have a family to help him. I did.
With each passing year, I grew more convinced that he was playing for more than just this game. The imposter Hierophant had taught me that the world wasn’t where it needed to be yet. Order remained elusive.
I would do my part. Matthew clearly wanted me alive; I would remain so. If he wanted me to win, I could do that too.
After all, I had stubborn mastered.
Though Aric and I wouldn’t have the reincarnated life together we’d dreamed of, we could reunite in the game after. I grieved that life desperately, but he would understand why I needed to trust Matthew—and why I needed to help.
Love.
With difficulty, I continued to write in my chronicles. If I somehow predeceased Matthew—against all my efforts—I wanted to remember all that happened in case Circe’s spell faltered.
I wondered how I could ever forget.
I still cried over the icons of my friends on my aged skin. I traced Aric’s with awe. I ran my fingers over the beads of Jack’s rosary. The red ribbon bookmarked this chronicle entry.
Each sunset, I closed my eyes with relief. Another day had passed. One less day to wait.
Time was meaningless; time meant everything.
I was so tired, but I would hold on. I had my family and my memories to keep me company. Only I could survive what the winner of this game would have to brave.
