Page 33 of To The Final End
Wooden beams stacked high in the center of the courtyard. Flowers woven through the structure—white lilies, purple heather, something golden I don’t recognize. The Feeders must have gathered them.
Not because they loved Riley.
Because they love me.
Or because they’re trying to. Because they want to believe in something better than what they had. Because showing up is the first step toward healing, even when you’re not sure you want to heal.
I lay Riley on top gently. Arrange her hands over her chest. Smooth a strand of hair back from her face.
Then I step back.
Gray moves first.
He places a carved stone at her head—a wolf’s head, rough but recognizable. He made it himself; I can see the marks of his claws in the grooves. He doesn’t explain. Just sets it down and steps back.
Jace is next. A blade, small and sharp, tucked beside her hand. “For the road,” he mutters. “In case she needs to fight her way wherever she’s going.”
Theo murmurs something I can’t hear—a prayer, maybe, or a blessing—and leaves a sprig of dried herbs at her feet.
Wes places flowers at her shoulder. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to.
Thane bows his head. Eyes closed. For a long moment, he’s completely still—the ancient vampire king paying respect to a girl who tried to destroy everything he’d built. Then he steps back, face unreadable.
Seth goes next. He hesitates, hand hovering over the pyre. Then he places something small and dark beside her hand—a stone, smooth and black, worn from years of holding.
“I found it in the Void,” he says quietly. “It was the only thing that kept me grounded. Reminded me there was something solid somewhere, even when everything else was smoke and shadow.” He swallows. “She was there too. Trapped, like me. I think… I think she deserves something that survived.”
My chest cracks.
Stellan is last.
He approaches the pyre slowly. Reaches out and places his palm flat over Riley’s heart.
He stays like that for three heartbeats.
Then he withdraws, and his eyes meet mine.
“She was stronger than she knew,” he says. “Most people are.”
I nod. My throat is too tight for words.
Then Theo steps forward again. He holds something out to me—small, delicate, pulsing faintly with its own inner light.
A daisy.
The stem has that crystalline quality—delicate but strong, like glass spun from starlight. The petals shimmer with intricate swirling patterns, the same ones that marked the attic door back at the house. Back before I knew what any of it meant.
The same daisies I grew without meaning to, pushing up through floorboards while I slept. The ones that chimed like crystal wind chimes when the breeze caught them.
They grow wild in the sanctuary garden again. The Ether remembers what I made, even when I didn’t know I was making it.
“You asked for one,” Theo says quietly. “Earlier.”
I did. I’d almost forgotten.
My hand shakes as I take it from him. The warmth spreads through my palm immediately—not burning but alive.
I step up to the pyre. Lean over Riley’s still face, and tuck the daisy behind her ear. The crystalline petals catch against her dark hair, pulsing softly with light.
