I cling to Ilryth. To this man whom I can hardly remember anything about and yet know with all I am. But it’s too late. It’s all crumbling. “Victoria.” My name is a whisper from his mind to mine—said like a promise that all we had, every glimpse I can remember and all I cannot, was real. “I love you,” I say as I am ripped from the world of the living and pulled down, down, and farther down into the Abyss of death from which there is no return.
