Page 201 of The Violet Raven

If I thought my heart had been breaking before, it now feels as though it’s shattered entirely, the pieces piercing every part of me.

“It was yer mother’s,” he whispers, his voice full of equal parts affection and sorrow.

With shaky hands, I bring the ring closer; the inscription etched into the band catching my eye. As I read the words aloud, my breath falters.

“Éire go Brách.”

Ireland to the end of time.

A sob breaks free, uncontainable and raw.

I shut my eyes tightly, as if by doing so, I can stop the flood of emotions threatening to drown me.

“My love for you does not end in death,” his voice remains steady despite the tears glistening on his cheeks. “I would die a thousand times over for you.”

His voice gains a rushed urgency, as though he’s racing against time itself to tell me everything he’s held back.

“The only thing I’d change about these past seven years—every precious moment I’ve had with you—is not tellin’ you this sooner. I should have told you years ago. I should have told you every day.”

Before I can respond, his hand glides into my hair, his fingers threading through it with a tenderness that unravels me further, and he pulls my lips to his.

His kiss is everything—a collision of desperation and passion, of love and finality. It’s hungry, consuming, a kiss that demands to be remembered for a lifetime. I feel his heartbreak, his devotion, and his unwavering resolve in every movement, and I cling to him as though I can hold him here, keep him from slipping away.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he brings his forehead to rest against mine. Our breaths mingle as tears stream down both our faces.

“I’ll wait,” he declares. “At the entrance to the Otherworld. I would’ve been honoured to be yer husband in this life.”

He draws back just enough to meet my gaze. His hands cradle either side of my face, thumbs brushing away tears.

“Next time,” he says, voice cracking. “Next time, I’ll do it right. Ye’ll be mine. And I’ll be yers.”

“You already are,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “You ruined me, as you said you would.”

His lips quirk into the faintest smile, bittersweet and full of longing.

“A piece of me will die here today if I lose you,” I breathe. “I would never be the same. I could never belong to another. And I refuse—” my voice gains an edge, his grip on me tightening momentarily. “I refuse to truly accept a world without you in it. You are the last whisper in my consciousness. Nothing can replace you, Finn. Nothing ever could.”

“You have much to do before yer last day,” he says, his tone soft but resolute.

He presses a kiss to my lips. And this one, this one feels like a goodbye. The final nail in the coffin.

Nothing in me cares about what lay ahead—the days and weeks to come, the turmoil, the suffering of others. There is no room left in my body to care about anything but the devastating truth that my heart is being ripped away. The pieces of me that remain are hollow, fragile, and I feel as though I might collapse under the weight of it all.

Callan’s hand, steady and strong, is the only reason I can still stand. My legs waver beneath me, my thoughts a disjointed mess, and I can’t summon the will to fight against the pull of despair. If Finn is leaving me—if his fate is to be sealed here—then I will happily die in this place, knowing I won’t have to live a moment without him.

Behind me, I feel Callan stir. I hear him take a deep breath before speaking. “Ye have my thanks,” he says, his tone steady despite the emotion thick in his throat. “For everything. But most importantly, for lovin’ my sister.”

Callan smiles as a single tear rolls down his face.

Finn and Callan grip each other’s forearms, a gesture that carries the weight of everything left unspoken between them.

Finn’s eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs. “I love you,” he says, each word heavier than the last. “We will never part.”

Callan tugs at my arm, his grip firm but careful. “Now, Triona,” he urges, his tone sharpening with the desperation of the moment as a shadow emerges behind Finn, a form solidifying and closing in. My heart seizes in panic, and I instinctively tighten my grip on Finn’s hand.

“I can’t—” My voice breaks, each word a struggle as my breaths grow shallow. “I can’t leave you. I don’t care if I fall—if I fall right now…” My knees buckle slightly, my vision swimming in and out of focus.

Finn’s gaze softens, his love for me written in every line of his face. He turns to Callan, his voice a low command. “Take her from here.”