She chokes on a sob, stifles it with the back of her hand. It’s not fair; none of this is fair. Stories like theirs are supposed to have happy endings. This cannot happen, not now. Not when he is finally free, finally human, when he is hers and she is his, and she can’t accept this, she can’t. “Please,” she begs. “Surely there must be some spell—there must be something, anything. Please, Eliasz, please. Tell me how to save you.” “Liska, Liseczka. Oj, lisku.” He raises her hand to his lips, kisses her knuckles in a final act of worship. His smile is that of a man complete. “I am already saved.”
