Page 81 of Fated In Forever
But to serve as a bridge between worlds, a guardian who could help the lost find their way home.
Always, as I rowed back toward the shore where countless souls waited, I thought of Evangeline. How she was safe and happy, surrounded by those who loved her. How the blocking spell on her bond, prevented her from feeling any pain, while I reveled in mine.
Every aching twinge reminded me of what we’d shared, every night I laid awake with this throbbing pain proved to me what we’d had was real, and precious and eternal. Evangeline had shown me that redemption was possible, that even someone like me could choose to be something better.
And this was my choice.
To remain here, in this place of endings, and help as many souls as I could find peace. My task would take forever—literally forever—but I had forever to give.
The loneliness was still there, a constant ache in my chest where her warmth used to live. But it was bearable now, transformed into something that felt like hope. I would never see her again, would never hold her or hear her laugh or watch her eyes light up with that fierce intelligence, but I could honor her by becoming the best version of myself.
The version she’d seen, when everyone else only saw a traitor.
I dragged the boat up onto the shore, my hands nowcalloused enough they ceased to bleed, my feet crunching on the rocky shore as I faced the sea of souls still waiting.
I will not abandon you,I added silently, though I wasn't sure if I was speaking to the souls or to a memory of blue eyes and golden hair, and for the first time since Evangeline's departure, I felt something that might have been peace.
No, I would be back here tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.
I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was meant to do.
After all, what was eternity when spent in service to something greater than oneself?
36
EVANGELINE
Two more weeks passed with no sign of Ravok.
No attacks, no rumors of new thralls, no sightings of my rotting uncles.
We had all fallen into a waiting pattern, and it was early morning, I was practicing my daily exercises in the castle's garden, when the first wave of wrongness hit me—like ice water flooding my veins, making every dark vein beneath my skin pulse with awareness.
Not just awareness, more like anomniscience.
Something was happening at Château des Ombres Éternelles. I felt the fates shift from here, a thousand miles away, ripples spreading through the air, catching me where I stood.
“Blake,” I called, stumbling toward the castle as the sensation intensified. The magic inside me was responding to whatever darkness was being unleashed in France, like a tuning fork struck by the same note. “Riordan.”
But I was too far away, my voice carried in the other direction by the wind, smothered by the thick stone walls of Laith Castle. The crawling feeling beneath my skin intensified, veins pulsing with an otherworldly darkness.
Again, those ripples washed over me—through me—and my body torqued, muscles screaming as they were wrenched in unnatural directions.
The world tipped sideways, my breakfast sloshing around in my stomach. I became as insubstantial as a feather, my form dissolving into shadow in a wash of cold air. This had never happened before—I'd never dematerialized, not by myself. But the pull toward France was so strong, so demanding, my molecules responded without any conscious thought from my brain.
I wondered if I could be torn apart, then cursed the thought.
“Evangeline,” Riordan’s shout faded into nothing as I was yanked out of the garden, arms and legs jerking to the side, my atomized form racing toward whatever catastrophe was unfolding in France.
I’m going to the chateau. I thought,something’s wrong.
I materialized on the top of the Keep into a thunderstorm, my poor body snapping back into solidity so violently I crashed to my knees, skinning them on the rock. This wasn’t a storm, this was chaos.
No, this was an attack.
Bodies littered the stone floor—some guards I recognized, both Shadowsend and Nocturne—their faces frozen in masks of pain. The air reeked of death and dark magic, so thick I could taste brimstone on my tongue. And there, standing in the center of the destruction with his hands raised toward the sealed rift, was Ravok.
He looked different than a month ago.
