Bryce smiled, and felt it beam through her. “Good. Good.” She breathed in a lungful of the sweet, fresh air, noted the tang of salt, a hint of sea nearby—
“Quinlan,” Jesiba said again. “You have to go back.”
Bryce angled her head. “What do you mean?”
“To life,” Jesiba said, irritable as always. “Why else do you think I’m here? I traded my life for yours.”
Bryce blinked. “What? Why?”
“Holstrom can fill you in on the particulars of my existence. But let’s just say …” Jesiba walked up to her and took her hand.“That Archesian amulet isn’t merely for protection against my books or against demons. It’s a link to Midgard itself.”
Bryce glanced down at her chest, the slender gold chain and delicate knot of circles dangling from it. “I don’t understand.”
“The amulets first belonged to the librarian-priestesses of Parthos. Each was imbued with Midgard’s innate magic—the very oldest. The sort every world has, for those who know where to look.”
“So?”
“So I think Midgard knows what you did, in whatever way a planet can be sentient. How you freed Avallen, not because you wanted to claim the land for yourself, but because you believed it was right.”
At Bryce’s surprised expression, Jesiba said, “Come, Quinlan. I know how ridiculously soft-hearted you can be.” The words were dry, but her face was soft.
“What does that have to do with”—Bryce gestured around them—“all this?”
“As thanks for what you did for Midgard … we are being allowed this trade, as it were.”
Bryce blinked, still not getting it. “A trade?”
Jesiba plowed ahead, ignoring her question. “The Parthos books are yours now. Protect them, cherish them. Share them with the world.”
Bryce stammered, “How can you possibly, and why would you possibly—”
“A hundred thousand humans marched at Parthos to save the books—to save their centuries of knowledge from the Asteri. They all knew they wouldn’t walk away. I had to run, that day. To protect the books, I ran from my friends and my family, who fought to buy me time.” Her eyes gleamed. “You went into that portal today knowing you wouldn’t walk away, either. I can offer now what I couldn’t then, all those years ago. My family and friends are long gone, but I know they’d want to offer this to you, too. As our own thanks for freeing our world.”
Bryce reeled. Jesiba had been at Parthos when it fell?
“The books are yours,” Jesiba said again. “And so is the gallery’s collection. The paperwork’s done.”
“But how did you know I’d wind up—”
“You’ve got one of the worst self-sacrificing streaks I’ve ever encountered,” Jesiba said. “I had a feeling an intervention might be needed here today.” She peered up at the blue sky, and smiled to herself. “Go home, Bryce. This will all be here when you’re ready.”
“My soul—”
“Free. The Under-King is dead. Again, Holstrom will fill you in.”
Bryce’s eyes stung. “I don’t … I don’t understand. I was happy to give my life—well, not happy, but willing—”
“I know,” Jesiba said, and squeezed her hand. “That’s why I’m here.” She gestured behind Bryce, where a crystal doorway, reminiscent of Crescent City’s Gates, now glowed. “The angel is waiting for you, Quinlan.”
The angel. Hunt.
The thing she’d left behind. The thing that she’d been looking for, the reason she’d hesitated …
“This will all be here when you’re ready,” Jesiba repeated, then motioned to the green hills beyond. “We’ll all be here when you’re ready.”
Far out, on a distant hill, stood seven figures.
Bryce knew them by shape, knew them by their heights and the glow around them. She picked out Connor standing tall at the back. And standing at their front, a hand upraised …
Bryce began crying, and it was pure joy and love that burst from her as she lifted a hand in greeting toward Danika.
Danika, here—with everyone. Safe and loved.
She heard the words on the wind, carried from her friend’s soul to hers.
Light it up, Bryce.
And Bryce was laughing, laughing and sobbing as she yelled back across the lush plain and hills, “Light it up, Danika!”
Wolfish laughter flowed to her. And then there was a spark of light by Danika’s shoulder, and Bryce knew that fire …
She blew a kiss to Lehabah. Through her tears, she turned back to Jesiba. “How? The secondlight—”
“It took their power. But what is eternal, what is made of love … that can never be destroyed.”
Bryce stared at her in wonder.
Jesiba laughed. “And that’s about as sentimental as I’ll ever get, even here.” She gave Bryce a nudge toward the crystal archway. “Live your life, Quinlan. And live it well.”
Bryce nodded, and hugged Jesiba, conveying all that was in her heart.
Jesiba hugged her back—first awkwardly, then wholeheartedly. And as Bryce hugged her, she looked one more time toward the hill where Danika and Lehabah and Connor and the Pack of Devils had waved.
But they were already gone. Off to enjoy the wonders and peace of this place. It filled her heart with joy to know it.
So Bryce turned from Jesiba. From what awaited them, all of them, and walked back toward the archway.
Toward life.
Toward Hunt.
100
Bryce opened her eyes.
There were … a lot of people standing over her. Most of them were crying.
“This,” she groaned, “is like some fucked-up version of attending your own Sailing.”
Everyone was gaping at her. And Hunt—he was real, he was right there, and the shock on his face was so genuine that Bryce just laughed.
The Asteri were gone. And with them, their firstlight, secondlight, their prison of an afterlife, and those she’d loved and lost … they were safe, too.
All of Danika’s work, fulfilled.
Bryce looked from Hunt to Ithan, also hovering over her, and gave the wolf a long, assessing look. “Who died and made you Prime?”
Ithan gaped at her, but Hypaxia—crowned with bones, for fuck’s sake—smirked and said, “Sabine.”
And Bryce laughed again.
“What the fuck, Quinlan?” Hunt muttered, and she looked back at her mate, whose face was so wan, his eyes so full of wonder—
She had the sense of others being there. Of Ruhn and Lidia and Flynn and Dec and Tharion and the Princes of Hel, but they all faded away before Hunt.
Bryce lifted a hand to his cheek, wiping away a tear with her thumb. “Look at my big, tough Alphahole,” she said quietly, but tears thickened her voice, too.
“How can you joke at a time like this?” Hunt said, and Bryce surged forward and kissed him.
It was light and love and life.
She had a dim awareness of a stirring in the air around them and Ruhn saying, “Does someone, uh, want to put Jesiba’s ashes in a … cup or something?”
But Bryce just kissed Hunt, and his arms slid around her, holding her tight to him.
Like he’d never let go.
Hunt allowed Bryce out of his sight only for a few minutes. So he could do this last, final task.
Wings of every color and the husks of the mech-suits still lay where they’d collapsed hours earlier, instantly crashing to the ground the moment the Fallen souls had vacated them.
He didn’t have any particular suit in mind, but he walked among the field of them—stepping over the bodies of fallen demons and Asterian angels alike, feathers scattered everywhere, and finally halted before a hulking suit, its eyes now darkened.
“Thanks,” he said quietly to the Fallen, even if their souls were now gone. Off to the place Bryce claimed they’d all go, in the end. “For having my back this one last time.”
The battlefield beyond the city walls was eerily silent save for the calls of carrion-feeders, but the city behind him was a symphony of sirens and wails and screams. Of news helicopters circling, trying to find some way to convey what had happened.
Naomi had gone off to meet them, to attempt to establish some semblance of order.
“We did it,” Hunt said, throat thick. “At last, we did it. The hierarchies are still here, I guess, but I promise you …” He swallowed hard, surveying all the cold, empty metal littering the field around him. “It’s going to change from here on out.”