A Conjuring of Light (Shades of Magic, #3)

by V.E. Schwab

It ends, he thought—no fear, only relief, and sadness. He had tried. Had given everything he could. But he was so tired. The rustle of leaves in his ears was getting louder, and he felt himself sinking against the tree, into the embrace of something softer than metal, darker than night. His heart slowed, winding down like a music box, a season at its end. The last air left Holland’s lungs. And then, at last, the world breathed in.

When I started ADSOM, I thought I knew how ACOL would end. I thought I knew where each character would be. And it worked. Except for Holland. I tried so hard to save him. I wrote it a dozen times. And in the end, it wasn't right. The book was out of balance. I'd written him as the Someday King, and he had a role to play, but it couldn't happen without sacrifice. It had to be bittersweet, and selflless, since selfishness is what made magic withdraw from White London in the first place. But it hurt. Oh, it hurt.