Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
I want to deny it. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I didn’t love the Magician—couldn’t possibly love someone so enigmatic. He was the damn universe. He even knew that I didn’t love him, like he knew everything else.
But the words die in my throat, because the truth is written all over my face, and Rasmus knows it.
“I don’t know what I felt for him,” I tell him. “Maybe it was love. Maybe it wasn’t. But whatever it was, it’s gone now. And it fucking hurts.”
Rasmus leans back slightly, resting his arms on his knees. He doesn’t push me to say more. Instead, he reaches for one of the books beside him and turns it over in his hands, as though inspecting it. His gaze remains thoughtful, distant.
“Grief isn’t supposed to make sense,” he says finally. “You can spend years trying to define it, trying to make it smaller, trying to understand why it hurts so much. But in the end, it’s just…there. Like a shadow that follows you no matter where you go.”
“Great. That’s comforting,” I mutter.
He snorts softly. “I’m a shaman, not a poet. Forgive me if I don’t have the right words.”
I manage a small, tired smile. “No. You’re doing good.”
“He wouldn’t want you to sit in this forever,” he says after a moment.
I nod, though it doesn’t make the ache any less. “I know. But it’s still hard.”
“Then let it be hard,” Rasmus says simply. “Let yourself miss him. Let yourself hate him for leaving. And let yourself remember him. Because the alternative is forgetting, and we both know he deserves better than that.”
His words hit harder than I expect. My chest tightens again, but this time it doesn’t feel like drowning. It feels like release—like something inside me is finally breaking loose. I wipe at my eyes quickly, pretending it’s just dust, but Rasmus doesn’t comment. He just goes back to sorting books, his movements slow and deliberate.
The silence that follows is different. Lighter, somehow. The shadows in the corners of the library seem less oppressive, and the faint glow from the windows feels brighter, like the sun is reaching us for the first time.
I pick up another book, my hands steadier now. Rasmus works beside me, muttering incantations, his quiet presence a strange comfort. And for the first time since the Magician disappeared into the stars, I let myself hope that maybe, someday, this ache will be something I can carry—a shadow, yes, but one that doesn’t swallow the light entirely.
For now, it’s enough to keep rebuilding. To put the pieces back together, one fragile step at a time.
That night, I stand by my window, staring out into the inky darkness. The world beyond Shadow’s End is quiet, cloaked in stillness, the sea crashing beneath us. For a long while, I see nothing but endless shadow and the faint outline of the distant mountains. My breath fogs the glass as I lean forward, my forehead resting against it.
Then, faintly, something catches my eye.
A shooting star.
Then another one, lighting up the sky before disappearing.
The stars are brighter tonight, as though the heavens themselves have been scrubbed clean. They glimmer like shards of silver, scattered across the black canvas. I stare at them, my chest tightening as I recall his voice—the Magician’s steady words, his infuriating not-smile.
And for a heartbeat, I swear the stars wink at me.
I stare, breath catching. My hands curl against the windowsill.
It’s him. I don’t know how, or why, but I know it.
He’s up there, watching.
He’s all of it, everything.
“You always knew, didn’t you?” I whisper to the night.
The stars don’t answer. They just gleam, constant and eternal. But it’s enough. A small smile tugs at my lips, the ache in my chest easing ever so slightly.
“I miss you,” I say softly, the words carried away by the wind.
The stars shimmer once more—a silent acknowledgment, a promise that he’s not truly gone.
And for the first time in days, I don’t feel so alone.
CHAPTER 43
HANNA
“My queen,” Raila says, appearing in the doorway to the solar room where I’m sitting by the massive windows and savoring the last of my morning coffee in the sunlight. “There’s someone approaching the castle.”
I twist to face her, suddenly alert. The snowbird chirps in alarm from its perch in the corner of the room.
“Who? Where is Tuoni?”
“He’s already gone to meet them. I came to inform you.”
I slurp back the precious dregs and place the cup down before rising, a flutter of panic in my chest. It’s been a few weeks now since we claimed back Tuonela and it’s been quiet, if not busy as we rebuild, all threats seemingly eradicated. And yet, I’m still as jumpy as ever.
“Well, do you know who it is?” I ask.
She dips her chin beneath her veil. “Your father said it’s the disgraced shaman, Ilmarinen.”