He was gone. The utter despair mingled in a confusing swirl with the intense relief that he had escaped my mother—some semblance of what I had felt for months. Part of me had been terrified that he would shed his mortal skin and leave me, be gone forever, even though I knew it was what had to happen to keep him safe. And now he had. My Ash was full fae. But then, he wasn’t my Ash anymore. I wanted to die.
