Page 161 of Eternal Obsession

Her sob echoed and she fell to her knees.

Her grief was a tide too vast to hold, the truth too sharp to bear. Pain wrapped around her like a storm, and in its eye, death screamed its honesty.

Its finality.

As she lingered on the edge of that silence, something steadied within her. She saw what must be done. If she could only survive the risk, it might all unravel into nothing.

Orpheus, my beloved, I have slept through centuries with a heart torn apart, and even as oblivion captured me, my soul never gave up hope I’d find you.

She removed the cape that I had dressed her in and laid it down, spreading out the material. She lovingly gathered his ashes up and poured them into the center of the cloth. She worked fast, glancing about for fear of intruders. Her hunger pained her, but she ignored it.

Whether she never drank again, no longer mattered, her own discomfort was eclipsed.

She wondered about his final hours, and if he knew they had been so close to being reunited. She was crushed by thoughts of what Orpheus had endured all those decades without her, and now this, this final destruction felt like God had delivered his final blow. Hope struck her with a sharpness of fear, burning through her like a sudden fire.

She secured her precious find, her beloved, and bound his ashes securely within the cape.

If Snowstrom had revived her after all this time, surely she could do the same here. Her task complete, Sunaria looked about for Jadeon’s ashes. She saw none. Before Orpheus’s demise, he had also sent her a clear vision of St. Michael’s Mount. Perhaps, she considered, a member of the Artimas family had come here and, like she, had recovered the remains of their loved one.

Sunaria landed at the water’s edge and gazed up at the silhouetted St. Michael’s Mount. She followed the worn pathway. As she drew near the castle entrance, she recalled her past. This was the place where she believed she’d been imprisoned.

A terrible memory surged.

She had been brought here by the Stone Masters. Lord Artimas and his brutal men. Barbaric and merciless.

And yet, with all the time that had passed, they would be long dead by now.

If not, she’d make sure they were.

Had over two hundred years really passed since her demise? I had told her so. Yet gazing up at the familiar monument, surrounded by water, she could not help but sense that such time had not elapsed—at least not here.

Sunaria steadied herself and listened. Within the castle, she detected a presence. She remembered my words, informing her how Jadeon had come for her ashes and how, until his death, Orpheus had believed her to be imprisoned within the ancient pillars. She had been furious with me and questioned why I had not returned her ashes to Orpheus sooner.

Refusing to discuss it, I had dressed her silently.

What she couldn’t know was, as an ancient, it had fallen to me to rule this kingdom—quietly, yes, like a god in the shadows. I moved unseen, making decisions with calculated brilliance, guiding events to preserve peace and ensure that mortals and humans would never collide.

Dazed from her sudden revival, Sunaria had closed her thoughts, thinking me incapable of reading them. Whatever revenge she sought would not be revealed . . . yet.

Sunaria entered the castle.

Two nightwalkers grieved for Jadeon. It appeared they did not have Jadeon’s remains. Sunaria’s eyes widened. She detected the scent of a mortal, lurking in the upper rooms of the castle. Perhaps, Sunaria considered, the human was being held captive for a later feast.

She was hunting again, stalking as she once had. Soon she would be ready to perform the ancient ritual in order to hold Orpheus in her arms again. After her feed, she would be ready. She hurried up the stairs, reveling with excited anticipation.

Her name was Ingrid, a soul to be honored in life and remembered in death. When she sensed Orpheus stirring within this mortal's dreams, something inside her stirred—not jealousy but a subtle, quiet fascination.

Sunaria paused, contemplating.

Chapter Sixty-Five

SNOWSTROM

It was over.

Alex sheltered in the castle dungeons, doubled over on the floor. He sobbed pitifully. Inconsolable, Catherine lingered by his side. Neither spoke. Both were lost for words. Silence galvanized their pain.

The mortal Ingrid was upstairs. She had locked herself in Jadeon’s old room. Catherine and Alex were trying to rally themselves in order to find the strength to take her to a place of safety, where humans could tend to her. They had provided some food and water for her and now hoped she would rest quietly.