Page 80 of Never Quite Gone

My betrayer, who couldn't bear to lose us one more time.

Darkness finally claimed me completely, but not before one last thought crystallized with perfect clarity – Will had never wanted power for its own sake. He had only ever wanted what all of us wanted:

To keep his family together.

To stop death from taking those he loved.

To find a way to make love last forever, no matter the cost.

The library of our childhood watched in silence as I fell unconscious among broken frames and scattered memories. Each photo, each leather-bound book, each artifact of this particular life bore witness to a truth I hadn't understood until it was too late.

Consciousness faded completely as Will's portal closed, taking with it everything I'd ever loved. The last sound I heard was his voice, carrying across centuries:

“I'm sorry, Alex. But love means sacrifice. You taught me that.”

Then there was only darkness.

CHAPTER 25

Reason

Consciousness returned with the careful precision of post-operative awakening. My surgeon's mind cataloged symptoms automatically: slight disorientation (possible mild concussion), stiffness in major muscle groups (involuntary unconsciousness, duration unknown), lingering metallic taste (magical sedation, if such things existed).

The scent hit me next – ancient herbs and burning candles, but not the commercial kind. These smelled older, more sacred.

When I opened my eyes, the space around me felt heavy with age. Stone walls held centuries of secrets, perhaps part of the Rothschild estate's foundations. An intricate circle surrounded me, its symbols pulsing with soft light that made my medical training want to argue about impossible things.

Will knelt nearby, and something in my chest ached at the sight of him. His usual corporate polish had cracked completely, revealing something ancient and terrible beneath. But his movements remained gentle, almost tender as he arranged items that looked centuries old: a bronze bowl that pulled at healer's memories, Vale's vial of blood, a knife that seemed to drink in candlelight.

“I'm sorry about the restraints. But we both know you'd tryto stop this, and I can't...” His voice cracked slightly. “I can't let that happen.”

Even now, even bound in this ancient space with power humming around us, I couldn't help wanting to heal whatever was broken in him.

“Alex is alive,” Will added, answering the question I hadn't asked but needed desperately to know. Relief flooded through me, making the symbols beneath me pulse brighter. “I couldn't...” He touched a family photo he'd brought down here, propped against the bronze bowl like an altar offering. “Even now, I couldn't kill my brother.”

“Will,” I started, but he shook his head, ancient grief clear in his expression.

“You don't understand yet,” he said, hands shaking slightly as he uncorked Vale's vial. The contents moved in ways that defied physics, making my scientific mind want to shut down. “In every lifetime, I've watched you both find each other. Watched you love and lose and die, over and over.”

His laugh held centuries of pain as he began arranging candles in a pattern that felt older than civilization. “Do you know what it's like to remember every death while pretending to be just another person in your story?”

“The pattern was beautiful, really,” Will continued, movements precise despite the tremors. “The way your souls reach for each other across lifetimes, generating more power with each tragic ending.” He touched the vial again, almost reverently.

“You sound almost proud,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite how the magic made my skin crawl. “Like an artist admiring his work.”

His smile held edges sharp as surgical blades. “Aren't you proud when a particularly difficult surgery succeeds? When all your skill and knowledge come together perfectly?” He gestured at the circle surrounding me. “This is my masterpiece. My greatest working. The spell that bound souls across death itself.”

I watched him work, this man who had been Alex's brother inthis life but something much older in others. His movements carried the same careful precision I used in surgery, each item placed with exact purpose.

“You're shaking,” I noted, medical training making me catalog symptoms even now. “The magic – it's hurting you.”

Will paused, something almost gentle crossing his features. “Still trying to heal, even now? That's why it had to be you, you know. Your soul's dedication to mending what's broken... it made the pattern stronger. More pure.”

He began to chant in a language that felt older than time, each word making the symbols around me pulse brighter. Power built in the air, heavy as storm clouds, hungry as open graves.

“Your love for Alex, his for you – it's been the foundation of everything,” Will explained between verses. “Pure enough to transcend death, strong enough to fuel magic that shouldn't be possible.” His hands steadied as he worked, ancient power overwhelming mortal exhaustion. “But it was never just about you two. It was about all of us. About keeping our family together, no matter what.”

The bronze bowl began to glow as he added ingredients my healer's senses recognized: herbs blessed under full moons, water from sacred springs, things that shouldn't exist in our modern world but somehow did.

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