So lost in his sorrow he has no idea that I kneel right beside him, longing to reach him. Desperate to assure him of a truth he couldn’t even begin to imagine—that I haven’t gone anywhere—that I’ll never truly leave him—that the body may wither, but my soul, just like the love that we share, never dies.

But it’s no use. He’s shut down. Unable to hear me. Unable to sense me.

Convinced that he now walks alone in the world.

And it’s not long before I feel the pull again. This time so strong there is no way to escape it.

Yanking me away from Alrik, out of the lodge, and into the sky. Sending me spinning, soaring, racing through the clouds, flying over mountain peaks, peering down upon an earth so different from the way I used to see it, becoming a place where everything shimmers, where everything vibrates and glows.

The truth of our existence so clearly revealed, I can’t imagine why I failed to see it before.

Every living thing, from plants, to animals, to the very people who populate the planet—are all connected to each other.

We are all one.

And though we may pass in and out of existence, our souls, our energy, our essence, never fade.

We are infinite beings—every last one.

The realization dawning like a lightning bolt crashing overhead, and I instinctively know this is it.

This is what I’m supposed to learn.

This is what I must never allow myself to forget, no matter what happens from this moment on.

And then, before the next thought can form, I pierce through the beautiful shimmering golden veil of light and find myself right back in a place I instantly recognize.

Chapter twenty-one

I land on the riverbank. Land with a thud.

Toes caught in the water, butt caught in the sand—the events of a lifetime, my first lifetime, still swirling through my head.

Aware of a soft rustling sound coming from somewhere behind, I turn to see her smiling as she makes her approach, offers an old gnarled hand, and helps me to my feet.

My lips parting as a slew of questions rush forth, all of that halted when Lotus shakes her head, places her hand on my arm, and says, “You have discovered the truth.”

I nod, clinging to what I now know, what I must always remember, never forget, but at this exact moment, I’m burdened with more pressing concerns. “And Damen?” I ask, my voice betraying my anxiety. “Where is he?”

She lowers her lids for a moment as though watching a scene that plays deep within, lifting them again when she says, “He still has much to see. Much to learn. For him, it’s not over. Not yet anyway.”

She motions toward the river, and I follow the tilt of her finger. Watching the current swirl and change until it smooths out again and the remnants of the scene I just left are reflected upon it. Showing Alrik’s life still in progress, showing him consumed by a never-ending grief.

He is broken, defeated, wrecked to the core, so greatly misguided all he can manage is to seek revenge for my death. Having no idea Esme caused it, he’s eager to place the blame on someone, anyone, ultimately seeing that the woman from the village, along with her two young apprentices, are charged with dealing in witchcraft and magick and put to their deaths. Soon falling into an even deeper despair when the act of his vengeance brings no sense of peace, no sense of redemption. Fails to compensate for his loss. Fails to bring me back to him.

The rest of his life lived in a fog of lost passions and thwarted dreams, his fervor and fight buried right along with my body. He goes through the motions, does what’s expected, settling into the path of least resistance, settling into the life his father had planned.

Marries Esme.

Claims the crown.

Each passing day causing his heart to harden and shrink into a small bitter stone.

Not daring to believe he’ll ever see me again.

Not daring to believe in anything, ever again.

And it breaks my heart to watch it, to watch him eventually brought down in a revolt secretly staged by a brother turned against him.

Rhys ultimately marrying Fiona, Esme’s sister, only to find he can’t seem to stop longing for Esme, the one woman who will never be his.

The four of them trapped in their own private hell, unable to find a way out.

Having no way to know what I’ve learned: When we harm one another, we also harm ourselves.

“Alrik is Damen.” I switch my gaze from the water to Lotus, surprised to hear myself say it, but knowing it’s true. “And Rhys is Roman, Heath is Jude, the village woman is Ava, her apprentices are the twins Romy and Rayne, Fiona is Haven, Esme is Drina…” Of course. I frown and roll my eyes. “And the doctor? Do I know him?” But before I can finish the sentence, I know. “The doctor is Miles.” I shake my head, allow a small laugh, then I add, “The only reasonable one in the group. The only one who wanted nothing to do with mystical cures.”

Sighing when I realize we’ve already done this, centuries earlier—only to fall into a similar trap, repeat a modern-day version of a nearly identical existence.

Glancing at the river, watching it clear, the images quickly fading when I say, “How did we not know this? Why do we keep making the same stupid mistakes over and over again?”

Facing Lotus, her gaze narrowing in a way that sets off a riot of wrinkles that fan either side of her eyes. Her voice low and grave, she says, “It is the plight of man. And while the blame lies partly on the river,” she gestures toward the swiftly moving dark waters before us, “most of the blame lies on man’s inclination to tune into the noise that blares all around him, instead of the beautiful silence that lies deep within.”