I sat on a wooden chair at Luca’s bedside, staring, not truly seeing, but staring nonetheless. I was vaguely aware that his skin was paler than it had been before, almost ashen in tone. He was still beautiful, somehow. Like a timeless diamond that would never lose its shine. He would have blushed, hearing me make such a comparison, and what I wouldn’t have given to see that pink hue bloom across his cheeks again. To see him smile at me as if I’d hung the moon.

I had planned forever with him, had expected to wake up every morning and see his sapphire eyes staring up at me until the end of time, but that honor had been ripped away. It truly felt as if half of me had perished with him, all the good parts dissolving into the ether. The softness, the passion, the joy. I had none left. I could barely muster the strength to feel anything except overwhelming misery and hatred, but even then, it was too much strain to keep those flames burning. I was a husk. Hollowed out and left to rot in the darkness.

My father had purged my world of its brightest light, had stolen the sun, the moon, and the stars right out of the sky, leaving nothing but an empty void.

My only solace was that he would soon join me in this purgatory.

He would know, too, what it felt like to lose everything.

There was a knock on the door, and I must’ve permitted entry as Zadok’s footsteps approached, his bleak scent laced with nauseatingly familiar tones, but still not quite right. “We have to bury him,” he said. “I can prepare his body, and Flick will find a nice spot for him. You have to let him go.”

A spot? A dirty hole in the fucking ground where he would disintegrate into the unforgiving earth? No, he deserved better than that. He deserved a temple, an everlasting foundation where he could be worshipped. A monument built of marble and gold, his name engraved into every pillar so no one would forget him. No one would dare forget him. I would brand his signature into their skin if they tried. He would be remembered for eternity, if it was the last thing I did.

I didn’t know how many hours it had been. I had bathed him and dressed him in clean clothes, but not for burial. He wasn’t ready for that. Though he often teased me for my refinement, my mate would wish to be presentable. It would embarrass him to be so on display with his curls untamed and his skin beaded with sweat. I liked him that way. Wild. Ruffled. His scent at its strongest. There was only one sight more beautiful than when he first woke up, and that was when he laughed. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear it.