Where the Light No Longer Follows (Blue Fairytales, #3)

by Wendy Heiss

“Make me afraid. Terrify me. I still have not made my peace with this fate. I don’t think I ever will. So make me fear. Help me fear it for I know the pain will forever haunt me if I don’t make peace with it. Tell me why did you kiss me.”

“I’m not scared of disappearing,” she confessed, taking his hand and bringing it to her lips, kissing each knuckle and then his palm. “I couldn’t think of a better way to vanish and leave nothing behind. Just like this. In your arms. Being held by you. It would be a dream. The dreams of dreams. I keep wondering how it would feel, this kind death I desire.”

“I have the bear. You take the monkey. To remember me by.” He rubbed a shaky hand over his face that twisted with a cry before taking the stupid monkey. “You think I will ever forget you?” “I hope you will,” she said. “Eventually.”

“I have no other tricks up my sleeve, Gabriel. How do I fool time any other way?” “You will be happy in your new life, my ruin. You will be so happy, that I can promise you.” How could he not know? How could he not know that she was happy now?

It felt as if something was dragging barbed wire through his insides when he lifted his fingers and pressed them against the cold glass, over hers. Her little careful smile grew as she watched their hands join, it bloomed into a grin, and for the first time in his existence, he learned what spring felt like to humans.

Leaning closer, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the glass. Tears streaked down his face as he leaned in, too, wishing he could love closely without hurting those he loved. They stood there, both on each side of the window, their brows pressed together, gazing at one another until her lips moved to form words that sealed so many fates. It’s okay. Was it though?

The sob that drew out of her shook his entire being. Unable to see her crumble right there, so close to him, unable to hold her, he forced his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears. He couldn’t see or hear her—he could not. He’d hold her, and she’d vanish in his hands like mist along with any memory he had of hers. He couldn’t—he couldn’t live without a fragment of her memory.

Her tears spilled—they’d spilled worse than any blood in any battle Gabriel had ever witnessed. Then rain fell down on them with the fury of a thousand storms, bleeding into the land just like her cries. And again, all he could do was watch.

“Will I see you?” “No, my ruin, to your luck you won’t. But I will be there. In the sun, the flame of a candle, city lights, and every single moon beam. I will always be with you.” She sobbed into the pillow. “What if you can’t find me again?” “I’m never losing you again, Silene. I will rake through every world I know to find you. You will not see me, you will not remember me, but I will be there, you have my word.

“Take anything you want, anything at all, just make it so I can have you at least in one lifetime. Any lifetime. Hundreds and thousands of years from now, or at the end of all times, just once, even if it is just for a day. Make it possible. You can do that.”

“I was going to give you everything. When you’d wake, I was going to lay the heads of those who hurt you like cobble stone for you to walk on, and with their blood I would have painted a bright red path for you to follow towards a new life, a better one.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing her hand to the window, trailing his faraway silhouette, wishing she could just touch him just once more.

“Tell me goodbye,” she begged. “At least come and tell me goodbye.” The candle on her vanity burned alive, and she turned to find a letter beside it. No more than just a sentence was written across it. My beautiful, beautiful demise, live long and well. “Coward,” she murmured, tears clinging to her eyes. “You coward.” Ink started appearing on the letter, new words forming. I am. “Come here,” she whispered. Not if I am to ever let you go. She shook her head. “Then don’t.” I love you. Her knees gave to the ground, her body merely a pile of bones surrendered to the grave she’d opened in her own chest.

There was no time to brace the impact of that one kiss. Or of the more that were to come. Silene finally gave away to the sea. And the sea did not drown her.

“There were so many places I wanted to take you,” he said, moving his palms up and down her spine. “Let me take you.” “This is the only place I wish to be. Nothing else matters. I’m scared nothing else will ever matter to me.”

“I want to make this mean something.” She cupped his face. “It means everything.” He shook his head. “This doesn’t feel enough. It isn’t enough. I wanted to give you everything. I have everything to give, and it was going to be yours to take. Not like this, my ruin, not like this at all.”

“You’re perfect. How can you fit so perfectly in my hold yet be the only thing I can’t hold onto forever? How can you be made for me so perfectly yet be the one thing I cannot have?”

“If I gave you a dream, any dream, what would you want to dream about?” he murmured, his eyes fluttering from sleep. “I will give it to you.” “Too late,” she whispered. “I got my dream.”

“I will remember,” she whispered to herself as she choked on chopped sobs. “How can I forget? I can’t forget. Nothing could make me forget you.”

Let me be just a ghost only to haunt you for I can no longer love you.

“You both made unbreakable bargains, Silene. There are worse things than forgetting,” he said. “Remembering is one of them.” “What will I remember?” she asked, hopeful despite all the signs of dread already marking her. “Of him? Nothing. You will never remember him for long even if you meet again. You will start anew in my service. For five hundred more years.” Time passed, it was what it did best, but she didn’t want it to make her forget. “And then?” He shook his head. “Only the Fates know.” A flicker of something less than hope and more than despair glistened in his eyes. “Maybe they will be kind.” Despite all the strength she used to hold her tears back, she broke again. “They never are.”

And he’d introduced himself to her again, he’d told her their story, for the hundred or thousands of times. On a spring morning like many spring mornings before over the years. And like every other time, when day would fade, when light would start to disappear into midnight, she’d forget him. And once again, he’d be a stranger to her, and she’d be the creation he’d beheld with such violent hands.

Tales would follow for years, and they would tell their story with a different path each time, but always the same ending. That Gabriel had loved the ghost of a woman Silene had been after her bargain with Death for endless years, and that she had never loved him back for longer than a day.

But some also say that the Reaper fell in love one last time after her five hundred years of her service ended. Whispers would say that it was the last love for the God of Life, too. One he’d waited for so long, one he never let go of. And that their love was eternalised. That she never would leave his side again. That their love also bore fruit. A child so loved by the both of them. Nor human, nor God. An omen so dear, so pure and gentle that humanity loved her, too. One that grew bright in the darkest moments. Something akin to hope and light. And such some would say. But tales are kind. So kind. And Fates were not.