And then…
It suddenly becomes so clear.
What comes next is inevitable. Even if Mother released me to build a life with Declan, we might have decades, maybe half a century to share, but not forever. Sooner or later, it would always come to this—saying goodbye and setting him free to face his next adventure alone, no matter how dearly I would love to go with him.
Goodbye…
Such a terrible word, but precious, too. It’s that inescapable goodbye hanging over their heads, whispering that tomorrow should never be taken for granted, that makes humans so special. That spurs them to grow and change and explore and learn, to figure out as much of the mystery as they can before their time is through.
Eternity, even as an option, makes other creatures lazy.
Witches and fairies and nightmares…we put off for tomorrow what should be done today. We stand back and study, watching when we should be diving in, running, playing, taking risks, rising to challenges, falling on our faces, and learning how to pick ourselves up and try again.
I watch Adrina and Declan grow older together, watch them build a home of stones where the old lookout used to be and sail back and forth to visit Adrina’s family on their sun-drenched island. I see their children come and grow and then the fourth baby pass in her sleep—born too soon and with a stutter in her tiny heart. I feel them grieve, feel tears rolling down my cheeks as Declan cradles Adrina close and whispers the only words that can help. Words only he knows because he’s read them in her heart.
And their love is damaged for a while, fragile and tender and plagued with grief. But by the time their firstborn is old enough to run off to school with his friends, they’ve grown even dearer to each other. The fire of shared suffering has burned away everything but love, mercy, and devotion.
And laughter. So much laughter and joy, each moment savored and sweeter because of that pain in the past.
I bow my head, tears still flowing, in awe of them. Of love.
I thought I knew what it was, how it worked, but now I see what a child I am. How much I have to learn. Though, of course, I will never learn it firsthand. And that hurts. It’s a loss so profound that it hurts all the way down to the marrow of my bones. But that, also, is as it should be, also inevitable. Declan and Adrina will face challenges that force them to grow and change, and so will I, just not the same challenges or changes. I have a journey, too, different but no less precious.
The weight on my shoulders eases, and suddenly I know that everything will be all right. I can feel it like the sun rising inside of me, promising a new day, and not just because I know Declan survives.
I see the promise of salvation in the vision—Adrina and Declan travel freely between his home and hers, falling asleep in her childhood bed together with no fear of what comes in the night. One way or another, the suffering I helped rain down on the human race comes to an end. Soon.
By the time I pull my fingertips from the water, Declan’s beard has turned gray. He runs with a slight hitch in his step as he races his grandson into the waves, but his smile is still exactly the same.
A part of me wants to keep watching, to see this through to the end, but the gentle-with-myself part Declan nurtured insists it’s enough to know Declan will have a long, love-filled life. I don’t have to watch him die. I can let him live on in my memory, grateful for his kindness and grateful to have been loved by him, even if it was only sweet, simple, young love for the blink of an eye.
Swiping tears from my cheeks, I lift my gaze to Mother’s face, feeling…at peace.
Her eyes narrow and confusion flickers behind them. “You saw?”
I nod. “He loves Adrina. And she loves him. They have a good life together.”
She exhales sharply. “After he murders you in your sleep. That’s how he pays for his beautiful life with his second love, Foxglove. With a knife in the heart of his first.”
I pause, but I discover the information doesn’t change the way I feel. “I didn’t see that,” I say.
It might be true. It might not. In the end, it doesn’t matter.
Declan lives and is happy, and my magic stops hurting people. Isn’t that what I came for? Can’t I consider this battle won?
I exhale more tension, letting it run out with my breath.
“But you saw him loving her,” Mother says, circling around the edge of the pool. “Devoted to her.”
“Yes,” I whisper as I watch her stalk me like prey.