Tears streaming down her face, she opened her eyes to look for the singers. All four women stood at the front of the room, and three of them glowed with gold light. Orsala, Sari, and the old woman’s mating marks shone in the candlelight. Renata’s face was lifted in song, a single circle of magic on her forehead. When Ava looked down, she saw her own arms glowing with Malachi’s marks, saw Astrid’s mating marks lit up as well.

All around the room, the magic swelled and rose, coursing over the company of Irina and their mates. Damien stood across the room, his dark eyes fixed on his mate, his talesm lit up like burning silver. For a moment, she saw their eyes meet.

There it was.

Tears fell down her face when she recognized it. It was the look she’d seen in the manuscript. The expression of perfect completion.

Then the image that Jaron had shown her rose again. The great circle in the sky. A sun twisted with gold and silver. Higher and higher it rose, and Ava realized in the back of her mind that her own voice rose with it. She closed her eyes as the sun faded away to stars. She rose to her feet as a million scattered points of light dotted the heavens, dancing in concert to a growing song.

Then a single voice rose above the others until it was all she could hear.

And Ava realized the voice was hers.

III.

At the edge of the valley, Jaron watched. Opening his mind’s eye, he saw the circle of voices as the daughters of the Forgiven lifted their song. And in his frozen soul, he heard the chorus of angels, calling out in joy as the heavens rang. A gold sea, as calm and clear as a mountain lake. His heart swelled with longing. For peace. For purpose. For home.

Then Jaron heard her. Her voice was different. And yet, somehow, it wasn’t. It lifted over the others as she sang powerfully of the vision he had sent her. It was a song of longing and strength. It was, to the ears of the Fallen, a song of hope.

Jaron closed his eyes and allowed his heart to join the song he had given her.

Barak appeared beside him.

“Can he see her here?” the grey-haired angel asked, always alert to danger.

“Normally he can see her everywhere, as I can. But I cloaked the valley when I knew she would be coming. She’s safe. For now.”

The two stood silently in the darkness as the magic rose in waves, flowing over the land. Elsewhere, the trees had lost their leaves. The ground was harder and the wind more bitter. The haven the daughters of the Forgiven had created was as gentle a place as the harsh Earth could be. When the snow finally fell, it would lie soft on the ground.

“If he sees your fingerprints here, he will know.”

“He will.”

There was silence between them until Barak heard the words that Jaron had not spoken.

“You have distracted him in some way.”

“I have.”

“With the scribe?”

Jaron shrugged. “I was not expecting to have an ally as convenient as him. Even an unwitting one.”

“You call him your ally?”

“He is my ally as long as I can use him.”

The Fallen narrowed his eyes. “The scribe is no ally of mine.”

“We both believe it was her magic that rent heaven, brother. It was her magic that brought him back.”

“So?”

“She tore the fabric of heaven with her magic, brother.”

Barak was silent.

“There must be a reason. And if her magic needed his, then we will use him. Perhaps there are possibilities we have not considered.”

Barak crossed his great arms, covered with the raised talesm of their kind. “He is our ally for as long as he proves useful, and no longer.”

Jaron shrugged. “Of course.”

Then the two Fallen turned their eyes back toward the Irina song and watched the sunrise.

Chapter Eleven

He saw her as soon as he opened his eyes. She was waiting at the edge of the trees with a glorious smile spread across her face.

“You’re happy,” he said.

“Supremely.”

He walked toward her through the mist, and she wrapped her arms around him. He lifted her and swung her around, her joy spreading into his own soul. She nestled her face in his neck, and he could feel her smiling against his skin.

“I understand now,” she said.

“Understand what?”

“That you’re not gone. Not really.”

“Of course not,” he said, smiling. “I’m right here.”

“No, in the other place. When I’m not with you. Even there, you’re not really gone.”

Something tickled the back of his mind. There was something he needed to tell her. Something he desperately needed to share, but it drifted away like the mist that hovered over the ground. Her happiness took over his body, and he laughed.

“I miss this, though,” she said more softly. “In the other place. I miss this.”

“Miss what?”

“Being near you. I miss your smile. Your laugh.”

“You could always make me laugh,” he said. “Even when things were bad, you made me laugh.”

“I’m glad.”

The joy was dimming; he sensed it. Felt it, as if her soul and his were knit together. He didn’t want that. He set her down and held her face in his hands as his lips touched her skin with light, teasing kisses. Soon she was smiling again.

“I can sing now,” she said, almost shyly. “I’m learning.”

“Show me.”

She blushed. “I don’t know…”