40.

  Artemis

  A week later, Spook, Azurian and I had rebuilt most of the cottage Faelwen once shared with Barnabas and me. The walls stood firm again, the roof mended, the hearth breathing warmth back into the stones. Only the barn remained a scar upon the land. Charred timbers and ash, left untouched. A silent marker of what had been lost.

  But the house endured.

  And so did we.

  Everything was ready enough for Faelwen to begin her new life. She was doing well. Stronger than she dared to believe.

  The bleeding had stopped, the child within her growing as it should, though fear still lingered in her eyes like a shadow that refused to lift. I reminded her often that this was a different pregnancy, guided by a different fate. Whether she believed me or simply wanted to do but didn’t, I could not tell.

  A smile tugged at my mouth remembering her quarrel with Spook this afternoon over something as simple as wood for furniture. She insisted on carrying logs to the cottage herself, stubborn as ever, until Spook would scoop her up without warning and deposit her onto the makeshift couch on the veranda.

  “Sit,” he’d grumble. “You’re pregnant.”

  Faelwen would protest, of course, while I merely shook my head, hiding my amusement. They had each other. And that knowledge eased something deep within me. I was not leaving her alone in a world that was still finding its balance.

  Still, the thought of leaving gnawed at me.

  Someday, I would have to face my brethren. I had delayed it long enough. Yet guilt and shame clung to me like old scars. Never fully healed, never forgotten.

  The Runestone of Balance pulsed against my chest, a low, insistent hum beneath my ribs. A reminder that my task remained unfinished. The Underworld spawn had been driven back, the ley-lines to the Mid Realm broken, but somewhere below, a rift to the Abyss still yawned open. It had to be sealed before he arrived.

  I felt it the moment I moved the Weave. A slight shift in the universe as if I’d awoken something. Something I did not understand.

  Something I needed my brethren to help me with.

  This time, I would not repeat my mistakes. This time I would listen to their wisdom.

  I sat on the veranda with a mug of steaming tea cradled between my hands, breathing in the sharp scent of pine and damp earth. Memories stirred of padded paws and moonlit hunts, of a life lived on four legs instead of two. Barnabas leaving food at the forest’s edge whenever he sensed me nearby. Faelwen stumbling into my den, all wide eyes and scraped knees. The most stubborn, curious child I had ever known. Even then, I knew she would become important to me.

  Autumn was settling in. The air had turned crisp, and leaves drifted lazily from the trees, carpeting the ground in shades of ember and gold.

  My gaze wandered to the graves at the treeline.

  Faelwen’s family.

  Ash.

  Barnabas.

  I rose slowly, leaving my tea behind, and walked to Barnabas’s stone. The cold of the evening bit at my fingers as I rubbed my hands together. I missed my fur. At least it kept my skin warm.

  “Well, old man,” I murmured, breath misting in the air. “You got what you wanted. I faced the consequences of my choices. And I kept my promise to you.”

  My voice softened.

  “I kept her safe… and let her find her own path.”

  A robin fluttered down onto the gravestone, its red breast a bold flame against the dark forest background. It chirped once, bright and clear as if to say “thank you”.

  “You’re welcome,” I chuckled.

  Warmth bloomed in my chest. Hope.

  Nature was healing. The world was strong enough to endure. And so, perhaps, was I.

  “I keep getting amazed with how resilient life can be.”

  Her voice reached me like a blessing. I turned and slipped an arm around Faelwen’s shoulders. She shivered, cupping her hands and blowing into them just as I had moments before.

  “You created this,” she said softly. “A magnificent world full of wonder and life.”

  I followed the robin as it disappeared into the trees.

  “I merely planted the seeds,” I replied. “The world chose to grow and persevere by itself.”

  She laughed quietly. “It’s strange to think I lived with an ancient god all those years.”

  My jaw tightened. I looked away, the weight of my decision pressing heavily against my heart. Knowing what I was about to do was going to be one of the hardest decisions I had to make.

  “And I wish I could stay longer,” I said at last. “But I must meet my brethren. I need their help to close the rift and end the threat of the Abyss.”

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  “You’re leaving,” she stated calmly. The words struck deeper than any blade.

  I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat and forced myself to smile, hoping she could read how much I would miss her. Tears gathered in her eyes despite her efforts to hold them back.

  “Will you walk with me?” I asked.

  She nodded and took my hand. We moved toward the treeline, away from the graves. The ancient pines loomed ahead, their boughs whispering secrets older than memory. Moonlight filtered through the clouds, bathing the forest in a silver glow.

  I drew the runestone from my pocket and placed it carefully in her hands. It was the size of a pebble and it fit neatly into her palm.

  “Here,” I closed her hand over the stone. “Keep this safe for me. Do not let anyone take it. I trust you more than my own kind.”

  She placed her hand on top of mine.

  “I will.”

  Her voice trembled. I pulled her into my embrace, and she pressed her face against my chest. Letting her go felt like tearing something vital from myself, but I did it anyway. I had to.

  “So…” she whispered. “This is goodbye.”

  My vision burned, but I smiled through the ache.

  “Goodbyes aren’t forever. Remember?”

  She nodded, sniffing. “Will we see each other again?”

  I did not know. But I knew I would watch over her from afar. And perhaps, one day…

  “Yes,” I said softly. “We will.”

  “Well then… I’ll see you later, buddy.”

  “I’ll see you later, little one.”

  I kissed her forehead and turned away before my resolve could fail. My staff materialized in my grasp, glowing faintly. I whispered the words that would lead me to the Second Realm, and a portal shimmered open.

  Silver light revealing a faint image of the stone arches of the sanctuary.

  My birthplace.

  I looked back one last time. A single tear escaped, and I wiped it away.

  “It’s okay to cry. Remember?” She said gently. “You once told me tears are the words you don’t have to describe how you feel.”

  A smile broke through my grief.

  “You’re right. I’ll miss you,” I said.

  “I’ll miss you too,” she whispered.

  “Promise you’ll call for me if you need me.”

  “I promise. No go… I’ll be alright,” she comforted me.

  I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Then… until later.”

  She smiled through her tears, waving as I stepped through. The Mid Realm faded behind me. Her face was the last thing I saw, before the portal closed.

  Grey stone arches surrounded me, humming with ancient power. Waiting for a single word to awaken again.

  I could go back.

  Even gods were allowed to change their mind… right?

  “Little wolf?”

  That voice stopped my breath. A voice I’d nearly forgotten, but brought up old feelings still hidden in my heart and soul. I turned and there she stood.

  The most magnificent, radiant woman I ever met.

  “Veras,” I whispered.

  She closed the distance in an instant, her arms around me, her lips finding mine. And for the first time in longer than memory, my heart remembered how to burn.

  ? ? ?

  Faelwen

  6 months later

  With a quiet grunt, I lowered myself to my knees. My swollen belly protested heavy as I worked the soil with careful hands. Removing weeds, loosening the earth and pressing new flower seeds into the ground around the graves.

  Winter was finally loosening its grip. The bitter cold gave way to gentler warmth. Trees unfurled fresh leaves, animals stirred from their long sleep, and the days stretched just a little longer with each dawn.

  Tiny shoots of green dared to rise between the stones, and wildflowers had begun to claim the space around the gravestones as if the land itself wished to remember them.

  My fingers brushed the first stone, tracing the carved letters. Cold seeped into my skin. And my heart ached.

  Ash.

  3E 907 6th of the third moon - 3E 940 5th of the first moon

  Until the end of time.

  “Hello, my love,” I whispered,

  automatically reaching for our bond but finding nothing. A lump formed in my throat.

  The child in my belly kicked in answer, and I smiled softly, placing a calming hand over the movement.

  Hello, my darling, I imagined him saying back, his voice warm as it had always been.

  “I hope you know I still remember you,” I continued, my throat tightening. “And that I miss you.”

  Memories rose, once sharp enough to steal my breath, to burn and break me open. Now they lingered differently. Still painful, yes… but softened around the edges, touched by something almost sweet. Bittersweet.

  I miss you too, he answered in my mind. I could see him then. His eyes finding mine, that familiar smile, his fingers brushing my cheek as if he’d never left.

  Tears swelled, and I let them fall.

  I had learned the hard way that pushing them away only meant they returned later, heavier than before. Sadness, when ignored, grows teeth. When accepted, it becomes something I can carry.

  “I think it’s okay if I’m a little sad forever,” I whispered, swallowing hard as my hand traced slow circles over my belly. Reminding me of the words Artemis often spoke to me when I was grieving.

  “It reminds me that you were real,” I said. “That what we had was real too.”

  Loss had taught me more than I ever wanted to know. I learned how to cherish each and every moment you’re given with someone. Goodbyes could be very sudden. It’s like walking down the stairs. One moment you feel safe, the next you find nothing beneath your foot. For a heartbeat, time suspends. Your stomach lurches, your heart leaves your body, and then you fall.

  Your breath leaving you first and then the pain follows.

  I missed Artemis fiercely in moments like these. I missed his quiet wisdom, the comfort of burying my face in his fur, the sharp edge of his sarcasm when grief grew too heavy. Somewhere far off, a wolf howled, and my chest ached in answer.

  My hand hovered over the soil, seeds clenched in my palm. A single tear slipped free, falling from my nose onto the darkened dry earth below.

  “I miss you the most, buddy,” I whispered, lifting my gaze to the sky.

  I knew he was watching, from the Second Realm, but that didn’t make the distance hurt any less.

  Taking a trembling breath, I opened my hand. The seeds scattered across the ground, and I carefully pressed them into the soil, covering them with love.

  I fetched the sprinkler and let water soak the earth, hoping that in a few months flowers would bloom where grief now rested.

  I repeated the ritual for the other graves. Each seed placed with love, with memory and respect. When I finally stood, a groan escaped me.

  My back ached, and the baby kicked sharply against my kidneys in protest.

  “Easy there, little one,” I laughed softly. “I already know you’re going to be trouble.”

  Another kick answered me.

  “Artemis would have adored you,” I murmured. “Just like your dad.”

  A horse’s whinny carried up the path toward me. I turned and spotted Spook and Azurian riding in on the cart they’d built with the help from the townspeople. Jimmy, our horse, trotted happily. Ears flicking as he spotted me.

  “Faelwen!” Spook called, waving enthusiastically while Azurian guided the cart toward the paddock.

  I turned back to Ash one last time, letting my fingers trail over the cold stone.

  “I’ll live,” I promised softly. “For you… and for the little one. Just like you asked me to.” My voice wavered. “But you’ll always have part of my heart. Until the end of time.”

  And even longer, I imagined him responding, smiling down at me.

  Then I turned away.

  Spook reached me first, pulling me into a careful hug.

  “We’re taking off with the business, little fox,” he said, grinning. “Azurian and I made our first trading deal.”

  His excitement was infectious.

  “Congratulations,” I smiled, as Azurian joined us.

  “We’re going to be okay,” I sighed, pressing a kiss to Spook’s cheek.

  “More than okay,” he replied, resting a gentle hand against my belly.

  In just over two months, we would finally hold our little one.

  “I can’t wait to meet the little bug,” Azurian said, glancing back toward his brother’s grave. “Maybe he or she will look like Ash.”

  I laughed softly, the earlier grief settling into something quieter. Something that could coexist with joy.

  I could not have wished for a more loving family.