Night Star (Immortals 5)

At least I found the answer I sought for so long.

Soundlessly whispering into the void, my lips moving quickly, silently, without ceasing. Calling his name, calling him to me.

Even though there’s no use.

Even though it’s futile.

Even though it’s way past too late.

twenty-seven

The sound of his voice floats over me, through me, all around me. Like a vague and distant hum that crosses oceans, continents, and galaxies to reach me.

But I can’t reply, can’t respond in any way. It’s useless. Unreal.

A trick of the mind.

A Shadowland jeer.

No one can reach me now that I’m here.

My name a plea on his lips when he says, “Ever, baby, open your eyes and look at me—please.” Words so familiar, I’m sure I’ve heard them before.

And just like before, I struggle to meet them. Slowly lifting my lids to find him gazing at me. Brow slanted with relief as those deep dark eyes bore anxiously into mine.

But it’s not real. It’s a game of some kind. Shadowland is a cruel and lonely place and I can’t afford to buy into this.

His arms slide around me, surrounding me, cradling me, and I allow myself to accept it, to sink into their depths, because while it may not be real, it’s just too good to resist.

I try once again, struggling to call out his name, but he presses his finger to my lips, pushing softly. He whispers, “Don’t speak. It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s all over now.”

I start to pull away, still gazing at him, not entirely convinced. My fingers seeking my throat, searching for evidence, exploring the exact same space where Haven’s fist plowed into me.

Ended me.

Remembering exactly how it felt to die for the second time in this life.

Remembering how it was nothing at all like the first time.

My eyes grazing his face, seeing the concern that plays at his brow, the relief that creeps into his gaze, eager for him to comprehend what really, truly happened here. “She killed me,” I tell him. “Despite all of my practice and training, in the end, I was no match for her.”

“She didn’t kill you,” he whispers. “Honestly, you’re still here.”

I struggle to sit, but he just holds me that much closer. So I gaze around the shop, taking in the piles of broken glass, the knocked-over bookshelves—like a scene from the most over-the-top disaster flick, featuring earthquakes, tornadoes, a full-on assault.

“But I went to the Shadowland—I saw—”

I close my eyes and swallow past the lump in my throat, pausing long enough for him to say, “I know. I could feel your despair. But even though it probably felt like a long time to you, or at least I know it did for me, it wasn’t nearly long enough for the silver cord to break and detach your body from your soul. Which is why I was able to coax you right back.”

But even though he speaks with such confidence, even though he nods and meets my gaze with complete and total assurance, I know better. Despite my cord staying attached, I know for sure that I died. And there’s only one reason I’m back.

I rose above my weak chakra.

The moment I realized the truth—about me—about us—the moment I made the right choice—I was somehow restored.

“She hit me right in my weak spot—my fifth chakra—and then—I saw everything.” I gaze up at him, wanting him to know, wanting him to really hear me. “I saw every single thing, every single moment from all of our lives. Including the stuff you tried so hard to keep hidden from me.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze full of questions, one in particular that looms large between us.