It goes on like that, Alrik eliciting a long stream of threats I’m sure he has no plans to make good on. It’s the ramblings of a man driven mad with grief, and fortunately the doctor recognizes that.

His words compassionate, forgiving yet firm when he says, “Alrik, m’lord, while I am truly sorry for your loss, I have done all that I can.

Now I beg of you to keep her comfortable, to say your good-byes, and to let her pass easily, painlessly, with no further outbursts from you. Please, Alrik. If you love her as much as you claim, then let her go in peace.”

“Out! OUT!” is Alrik’s only reply. Followed by the press of his lips on my cheek, a rush of words whispered into my flesh. Our palms pressed together as he utters a string of prayers, pleas, questions, recriminations, and threats, then returning to prayers and beginning all over again.

The litany broken only by Heath’s quiet voice saying, “Sir, m’lord, I know someone who may offer the sort of assistance you seek.”

Alrik stops, stills, and asks, “Who?”

“A woman who lives just outside the village. I’ve heard rumors. Can’t say for sure if they’re true. Though it might be worth a try…”

“Bring her,” Alrik says, burying his face into the hollow where my neck meets my shoulder. “Go. Fetch her. Bring her to me.”

Chapter twenty

I must’ve fallen into an even deeper state of unconsciousness because the next thing I know more people have joined me. And from the sound of their voices I’m guessing them to be Alrik, Heath, an older female whom I assume is the one Heath was sent to fetch, and two younger female voices that probably belong to her daughters, or apprentices, or both.

“You must know right up front that there is no guarantee. This is only to be tried as an absolute last resort,” the older female voice says.

“Does it look like I have other options?” Alrik cries, teetering on the edge of hysteria.

“It worked on a cat. Brought him right back. He went on to live for another full year,” one of the younger female voices cuts in. “But the last human who drank, well, it didn’t go over so well.”

“What does that mean? What does she mean?” Alrik is frantic.

“It means he died in spite of it,” the older woman says. “He could not be saved. Not everyone can.”

“Adelina’s not just anyone. She’s young, beautiful, in good health. It will work for her—you will make sure that it does!” Alrik demands.

“I will try. That is all I can promise. I’ve recently used it on myself—just six months ago when I fell ill the drink cured me, brought me back from the brink so quickly it was as if it never happened. Still, like I said, there are no guarantees.”

“So what are you waiting for? Give it to her already! Hurry, before it’s too late!”

She moves toward me. I feel the warmth of her body sidling up beside me. Her fingers sliding under my neck, cupping the back of my head, bringing me to her as she presses something hard and cold to my mouth. Urging a cool bitter liquid to slip past my lips and over my tongue, until it sinks down my throat and I do what I can to struggle against it. But it’s no use, I can’t fight it. I’m immobile, paralyzed, my thoughts locked inside, and I’ve no way to tell them to stop—it’s a waste of their effort.

It’s too late.

It won’t work.

My energy is gathering, compressing, shrinking down into a small vibrating sphere of color and light. Preparing to rise and lift—to drift right out of the center-most part of my scalp, what’s called the crown, and merge into whatever it is that lies just beyond.

They continue to fuss all around me, voices clamoring, hands prodding—making it clear that I’m the only one aware of the fact that I’m close to being gone.

This life is ending.

I won’t be returning—or at least not in this form.

My formerly sightless eyes suddenly filled with a vision of a beautiful golden veil I can’t wait to merge into. Still, I strain to hold on for just a few seconds more—I need to reach Alrik, need to convince him that it will all be all right.

My tongue bitter with the useless concoction they insist on feeding me. Wasting precious time, choosing to focus on absurdities when there are far more important things.

Alrik! I concentrate on his name with every last ounce of my being. Alrik, please, can you hear me?

But my plea falls on deaf ears. He misses it entirely.

His attention is claimed by his grief.

And now it’s too late.

I can’t ignore the pull. Can no longer fight it. Don’t want to fight it. And so I heave my last breath and allow myself to soar. Hovering up near the ceiling as I gaze down upon the scene, seeing Heath drowning in anguish with his head bowed low, the older female still feeding me the elixir, while her two young apprentices, who bear such a striking resemblance I’m sure they’re her daughters, hover over me, whispering a long string of words I cannot decipher. And finally, Alrik, my dear Alrik—frantically grasping the hand that bears my wedding band, futilely searching for signs of a life that no longer exists.

Letting out a bloodcurdling howl when he realizes the truth.

My body’s been reduced to an unoccupied shell.

My soul has been freed.

He empties the room, wanting to be alone with his grief. Then numbed, broken, completely defeated, he throws his body over me. His lips seeking my mouth, desperate to bring me back, unable to accept what he knows deep down inside to be true.