Chapter 256 256

Chapter 256 256
My tears no longer matter, whether they run down my cheeks and fall into the void doesn’t matter. I can’t hold them back anymore. I stretch my fingers to caress Luca, but she vanishes, forming small points of light that sink into Cassian, into his heart. The last flame of Alucard, keeping her promise until the very end.

I don’t know if the whole world is silent or if it has simply stopped mattering to me entirely when at last I let out a scream of pain and throw Ragna’s head away, wanting to rid myself of everything that reminds me of this horror. Neither her death nor her head as a trophy can make up for all my losses. I bury my face in Cassian’s neck, whispering words in his ear and pouring out all my grief.

A heavy hand strokes my back.

“Elara.”

It is Azeroth’s voice.

“Leave me alone.”

“I can’t,” he says, stroking my back.

“Yes, you can. Tell the others to leave and let me be. I want to cry in peace.”

“Elara.” This time his voice is much sharper. “Cassian’s soul is still here. He hasn’t abandoned you.”
I open and close my mouth, my brain not really registering his words. I lower my gaze to Cassian’s frozen features, as if I might find the answers there. My father crouches down and takes my chin, locking his eyes on mine.

“You can do it,” he assures.

I feel my chin trembling with the small sob that wants to escape my mouth.

Can I do it? How can he say that? He’s seen me fail time and time again in all my attempts, and I doubt this time will be any different. Of all the painful things I’ve faced—the emptiness and desolation, the disappointment in life, the ache of breathless lungs, the stabs in the back, the ugliness of lies, the disorientation of not knowing who I am, the loss of pieces of myself—holding Cassian’s lifeless threads has been one of the worst. The inner voice in my head whispers that once again, I’ve failed someone I love. Angela’s caramel eyes watch me from somewhere, reproaching me for not being able to save her.

“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I’ve tried. I can’t. I can’t do it.”

Azeroth digs his fingers into me harder, just enough to make me pay attention without hurting me.

“You can and you will. I won’t let you lose him because you’re paralyzed. You are without a doubt the most powerful being here right now, and if anyone can bring him back, it’s you.”

“You’re here.”

“I’ve never brought an army of souls to fight by my side.”

I look around and find every gaze fixed on us. I turn back to Azeroth, begging with my eyes that he not make me go through this again. If I hold Cassian’s lifeless threads one more time and fail, I don’t think I’ll recover. Some might say I would, that I’ve survived too much to give up now. To them, I’d say they’ve never lost their person. No, not the one you think is the person you could spend your life with. The one the universe destined for you, with whom you share a connection so primal you’d feel them enter a room even with your eyes closed, because your body reacts like two magnets pulling together. Your heart seeks to mirror theirs, to beat as one, like twin hearts. Your lungs don’t want to fill with air, only with their scent.

That’s the kind of connection I have with Cassian. Even when I feel hollow inside, my bond with him will always remain, like someone who’s lost a limb and still feels it.

“Close your eyes, Elara. Seek out the threads of his soul and pull them with all your strength,” my father instructs. “When you have them in your hands, make his soul want to return.”

“How do I do that?” My voice sounds like that of a lost little girl.

“You know how. It’s better if you do it yourself. Think of your shared memories, show them to him, draw his soul back. He’s here—I can feel it—but he needs you to show him the way. There’s no one better for this task than you.”

At first, I resist, doubting whether I’m capable, doubting if I can bear the disappointment. I close my eyes and clear my mind, forgetting the held breaths around me and the stares pressing like iron weights. I stretch my senses, my gift, in search of the threads I know have lost their glow. It doesn’t take long to find them. They lie in my hands, limp, cold. I squeeze my eyelids tighter, pouring all of myself into this. I debate which memory to show first—so many favorites, I don’t know where to begin. So I start at the beginning.

I try to show him what it was like to see him through my eyes the first time, when I collided with his body leaving the room where they’d prepared me for him. The impact was overwhelming, like crashing into a wall. He didn’t even look at me, but the hairs on my neck stood up all the same, my body aware I was before a threat—not just to my life, but to my heart.

I think I feel a flutter between my hands, but when I look down, I see the same: dull, lifeless threads.

Then I show him the night I slept on the forest floor and my body sought him unconsciously. Maybe it was just warmth, or maybe he knew something we didn’t. I never confessed that in the night I felt his fingers brush my forehead, stealing my sleep. I kept my eyes closed, afraid that if I opened them, I’d have to face the butterflies that stirred in my stomach.

I feel warmth between my fingers.

I show him how I remember his eyes, his many looks. Those cold stares at first, sharp enough to freeze the Abyss. Those other looks, mischievous, every time he made a comment he knew would provoke me. And the most important: the ones that wrapped around me like an embrace, warming me as only he could, showing me the rawest love I’ve ever known. Or the one I never thought I’d see—the pure love of a father looking at his daughters with unshed tears.

The warmth grows stronger, clinging to my fingers.