Page 63 of Destined to the Reaper

“No one harms my children in all impunity,” she replied, her face hardening and hatred sparkling in her eyes as she turned her face towards Cornelius.

The necromancer was still writhing and screaming in agony as his bones went into an endless cycle of breaking and mending, while Cliona’s hair hooks continued to stretch his skin until it tore and the longer strands wormed their way through the insides of his body, wrecking him from within.

“No, my darling,” Azrael said in a gentle but softly chastising tone. “Cast the hatred out of your heart. He has received his punishment for his crimes and will serve his sentence. Do not waste your thoughts on him.”

“Five hundred years, Azrael! He tortured him for five hundred years!” she exclaimed, outraged.

They said Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But in this instant, it became clear to me that a mother’s wrath was an even more lethal threat.

“And he will serve an equal time for both your sons consecutively. Your Asheron is safe and happy, and you reunited our son with his soulmate. Do not let this foul necromancer tarnish your light. He’s not worthy of any more of your attention, and your other children need you.”

Her anger seemed to instantly melt, as she slowly nodded. She gave him a sheepish smile and raised her palm to settle it on his right cheek. He leaned into her touch, his halo bathing both of them in a soft glow. Like I had done earlier in the forest with Pharos, Azrael turned his face to kiss the inside of the Weaver’s palm before straightening. Her smile broadened with that same air of deep affection. Yes, these two loved each other, but were notin love.

A pity…

“Until we meet again,” she whispered.

“Until we meet again,” he echoed.

She turned around, walked to the altar and picked up the manticore bones and heart. And then, just like that, she vanished. No air blurring around her, no portal… She was just gone.

To my surprise, Azrael looked at something in the distance before making a subtle head gesture. I turned to the right to see what had caught his attention. My stomach did a somersault, and my chest constricted with emotion as I watched Haroth and a hooded figure I didn’t know framing my brother. As I had not perceived his presence in the mansion when I first surveyed it through the eyes of the magpie, I assumed Cornelius had left Jasper back in Willow Grove. I couldn’t tell whether some of the wards had kept me from detecting him, or if the Grim Reaper had gone to fetch him. Either way, I was elated.

“Jasper!” I called out.

Without thinking, I broke free of Pharos’s embrace and ran to my brother. I all but collided with him, squeezing him in abone crushing hug. To my shock, his body was no longer half decayed. Even though his soul was but a shadow of its former self, his corporal vessel had clearly benefited from magical regeneration. Even as I tightened my hold around him, I cast a grateful glance at Haroth. Tears of gratitude, relief, and sorrow that I could not have rescued my brother sooner blurred my vision.

This healing wouldn’t allow Jasper to resume his former life here in the mortal plane. He was already a walking dead, his soul bound here through a curse. But it was a gift to me, to allow me to see him in his past glory in that final farewell. However, the absence of a heartbeat in his chest reminded me of our stark reality.

A choked sob rose in my throat, and tears freely fell down my cheeks when my brother hesitantly closed his arms around me. I had not expected any response from him, thinking him too far gone for that.

“Kali,” he said, his voice uncertain, and his pronunciation slurred as if he’d forgotten how to speak after years of disuse.

“It’s over, Jasper. You’re free. I’m sorry it took so long,” I said in a shaky voice, my cheek still pressed against his chest before lifting it to gaze upon his handsome face.

His eyes were glazed over. He stared at me with a slight frown as if struggling to recognize me. And yet, deep down, he knew me or at least understood who I was.

“Can we go home now?” he asked.

I swallowed back another sob and forced myself to smile while blinking away the tears still welling in my eyes.

“You are going to a different place, Jasper. It’s going to be a nice and peaceful place where you can rest and find yourself. No one will ever hurt you again.”

“Peace and rest,” he repeated, his eyes going out of focus for a few seconds before locking with mine again. “That sounds nice. Are you coming with me?”

“That place is not meant for her,” the hooded male to his right said in a firm but gentle tone. “But as she helped protect me against the necromancer’s plans, I will bring her to see you whenever she wishes.”

My breath hitched as I finally realized he was Charon, the Ferryman of the dead who Cornelius had sought to enslave as well.

“Thank you,” I whispered, floored that this would even be a possibility.

“It is I who thanks you,” Charon replied.

Although I couldn’t see his features from the deep shadows cast by his hood, I could sense and hear the smile in his voice.

“But we must depart. Please say your farewells,” the Ferryman said. “When you wish to visit, your mate will bring you to me.”

I nodded and gave my brother one final bone crushing hug and gently kissed his cheek. “Be happy, Jas. I’ll come see you soon.”

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