The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

by Carissa Broadbent

As if the gods had seen some beauty in mortality but failed to realize that the imperfection of it was what made it remarkable.

“How does the spell go?” I said. He held my stare for a long moment, head bowing forward, lips almost, almost brushing mine, like he couldn’t help himself. “Mische Iliae⁠—” “Asar Voldari⁠—”

“I give you my body,” he said. “I give you my body,” I repeated.

“I give you my breath.” “I give you my breath.” Now, he drew a glyph over my lips, and then his. “I give you my psyche.” “I give you my psyche.”

“I give you my secrets,” he murmured. “I give you my secrets.”

“I give you my soul.”

“From this night,” he murmured. “Until the end of nights,” I finished. “Your pain is my pain.” “Your heart is my heart.” And then, together, “I bind myself to you.”

“Never thought a necromancy wedding could feel so romantic.” He kissed the tears from one cheek, then the other. “I think it’s perfectly fitting,” he murmured. “You have resurrected me, Dawndrinker.” I laughed, even as I cried. “Sun take me, you are such a sap.” His mouth moved to my lips. “I suspect you love it,” he whispered against me. And he was right. I did.

In the darkness, I found solace. In the underworld, I found hope. And here, in this twin soul, in this love we built together, I finally found it: Home.