Page 67 of Shadows in Bloom

I left that life with a smile on my face.

“We meet again.”

I opened my eyes to the nothingness of endless darkness. Beside me sat Zaelos as I remembered him from my first life, a cold, lifeless beast. “How many times?” I asked.

He drummed his fingers along his chin. “This is number seven.” A flicker of amusement flashed across his face. “You have gotten us killed seven times. Think you’ll start taking my advice? You see, I have all eternity, but the human soul is not as resilient as a God’s. I don’t imagine you have many more lives before you lose yourself entirely.”

I huffed a soundless laugh. “Would that not be more convenient for you?”

“Unfortunately, no, or I would have smothered you from the inside out many moons ago. A broken mind will cause more problems for me once I take over that body of yours completely. So,I would appreciate it if you would follow the path I’ve laid out for you next time. Do not chase a hopeless dream.”

“You were quiet.”

Zaelos paused. “I was merciful. I knew we were dying. There was no purpose in interrupting your final moments.”

“That is awfully human of you.”

He scoffed. “And you are awfully chatty for a dead girl. Much more than usual.”

I wondered how our conversations had gone in my previous lives. I wondered where we were, and what we were waiting for, and for how long. I wondered if time was passing the same, or if the seconds passing by were years in a mortal life. But Zaelos was the last being I wanted to ask those questions to. It was not as though I would remember the answers. Whenever this—in-between—was over with, I would start again. A blank slate ready to be molded into a brand new Nairu.

I prayed to nothing. The beyond. If there was any way for me to maintain my memories, I was desperate to do so. Any amount of remembrance would have contented me, but I clung to the thought of him. The male I loved, who had promised to wait. Who I’d promised I would remember. If I could take only one memory with me to my next life, I wanted it to be of him. My soul had clung to him in life. I prayed it would cling to him still in death and rebirth. If my mind could not remember his love, my soul would.

“I’ve found a purpose now,” I finally said.

“And what would that be?”

“There is someone I must find, and when I do, there will be no more ‘we’, Zaelos.”

He laughed. “It has always been ‘we’, my little monster. Do you even remember who you were before me? Do you think you can go back to being her after everything you’ve done? After everything your people subjected you to?”

“No.” I smiled.

His words struck me as intended, but I shoved them aside. Of course, I could never go back to my childhood innocence. I did not need or want to be the girl I was before. I would be stronger, and I would never let ‘my people’ dictate my life ever again. I would not let the wounds they inflicted upon me smother my resolve. I would endure whatever it took to find my way back to the people I cared about. I would never be truly free until I was separated from Zaelos. I could endure my cage for a while longer.

Something tugged at the fabric of my being, like strings tied to my limbs. The feeling of being weaved together in rebirth was the opposite of what I thought the afterlife would feel like. It was not the comforting embrace of finality—it was more akin to being stitched back together without enough skin to work with.

The shattered pieces of my mind, body, and soul were spread taut, transforming into something new. Each weave was excruciating, an agony worse than death itself. It was something unnatural that Zaelos’ curse had done, and I understood now why he’d implied we couldn’t keep doing this forever. The soul could only be stitched back together so many times before it wore away to nothingness.

The sensation had dulled to a faint prick in the back of my mind. The darkness around me swallowed my senses until I couldn’t see my own hands in front of my face. My seventh life was coming to a close, and my eighth was soon to begin. I would not waste it.

“I believe our time is up,” I said.

“Indeed, it is. Until next time we meet, Saintess.”

“Yes, until next time. Our last time.”

Epilogue

Aflower wilts…

There was no ‘after’ her. Alandris’s love, his soul, had been ripped from his chest, leaving nothing more than a hollow void. He’d promised to wait, and he’d meant it with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t guarantee how much of him would remain by the time she returned. He could already feel pieces of himself being sliced away in layers. Everything he’d shared with only her. Vulnerability. Hope. In their place, a wall was erected, the same one he’d always used to shield himself... before her.

He could hardly remember an existence before her. In their short time together, she had upended his life, shattered the idea of everything he thought he knew. Everything he believed he desired. His motivations for wanting to become an Arch Magus had been selfish, childish, even. He sought freedom from his family ties, reveled in his rebellion. It was she who had shownhim the good he could do with such a title. One glance into her ruby eyes had painted him a vision of their future so masterfully detailed he’d known exactly what he needed to do.

As much as he wanted to collapse, to continue sobbing over her lifeless body and succumb to his grief, he understood he needed to get back to Amorphael. He would never be able to reunite with his lover if he failed to complete the Fae’s ‘favor’ and was turned into a mindless thrall for her amusement. That damned flower needed to find its way back, and they’d discovered the perfect shortcut. Before...

Alandris looked over to the ash-covered ground where the burned body lay. If he had not hesitated, things might have been different. But he hadn’t wanted to show such a cruel and ruthless side of himself to Nairu. He had been holding on to the hope that Kallistra would surrender once she realized she was outmatched. His intention was to spare Nairu the sight of what his magic could do. He had never expected Kallistra to... And in his rage, he’d done it, anyway—let his fire consume Kallistra from the inside out. A horrific, brutal thing, he’d forced his love to witness.

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