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Leaving him here would break her heart. Freeing him would break the world.
If he was not dead, there was no point in suffering.
The options that ran through his head were all impossible ones. Ones that led him down a treacherous, dangerous road of hope. And hope had done him no favors in his life.
“Do not say goodbye to me,” he murmured. “I do not think I could take it. This is but a parting until the morrow. I am eternal, my little witch. And I will come back to you someday—even if it is when this world has turned to dust, and I am ethereal once more. Go within my Maze, and embrace it, and you shall embrace me.”
She leaned close to him and pressed her lips to his, and he savored every second of it, for it would likely be his last. This was goodbye.
She loved Valroy. She loved him. All of him. Come the darkness, come the war, come the death. Come what may. He was the Maze. He was a primordial evil. And she was his bride.
Having all of one’s bones, muscles, tendons, and organs on the inside of one’s body was a terribly underrated experience.
“I am trying my best to adapt. I simply wish the world would stop upending for a few moments so I might catch my breath.”
“I shall leave this world how I lived it. Drunk and angry.”
“Will you hold me while I die? I…find I am still afraid.”
It was exactly at that point, as she began drifting off to sleep that was spurred by sheer exhaustion, that Abigail came to a conclusion. Loving someone did not preclude wishing to punch them in the face.
My living heart. I will not stop until I defeat you. And I will relish every moment I fail. I love you.”
