When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a large, misty space with no walls in sight. An inch of clear, still water covered the ground, reflecting the white nothingness around me, and the sky was open and colorless above.
Unlike the other dimensions I'd encountered, my senses did not feel detached here. In this plane, my existence was whole: body, soul, and consciousness. I could feel the humidity on my skin, the brightness on my eyes, the clarity in my mind.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel at war with myself.
A man approached from the fog, his hands in his pockets, his feet sending small ripples across the glass-like surface. As he drew closer, I recognized his old work boots, his hemp shirt—and, as my gaze rose to his tender expression—smile lines, sun spots, and a collection of facial features I never expected to see again.
He stopped a few feet away from me, wearing a sad, patient smile on his lips.
"...Hey, kiddo."
My mouth parted with his moniker on my tongue, a sob building in the back of my throat, but his arms were around me before the strangled sounds could escape my lips.
Solid.
He was a solid body. A tangible memory. An angel waiting for me at the end of this long, harrowing bridge.
The tears came in full force.
"Dad...I'm so sorry," I gasped into his warm, beating chest. "I'm sorry for everything I said to you. For everything I did."
He pulled back to kiss my brow, those weathered hands falling to grip my shoulders. "Don't apologize for a single thing, Al. The goals you've accomplished, the challenges you've faced...what an extraordinary life you've led."
Fat tears dribbled down my face and off my nose as I shook my head at the floor. "The house...the ranch...it's all gone. And Tom..." Where did I even begin with my brother?
"Alex." He lifted my chin, his gaze wet and fond and so painfully real. "I am beyond proud of the woman you've become, and more importantly, the leader you've proven yourself to be." His brow wilted at my remorseful weeping. "You're the greatest blessing a father could hope for, and I'm sorry I never made that clear to you." He leaned close, those eyes begging me to listen. "You are, and have always been, the starlight of my world, kiddo. Never doubt that."
I bit the inside of my cheek, reining in my breakdown. "I'm not really your daughter though...am I?"
His face softened with understanding, and he tucked a stray curl behind my ear. "You joined the family a little late. But I still raised you. And I still claim you as my own brilliant, disobedient spawn."
I wiped my eyes, a reluctant smile surfacing. "Even if I—"
"Yes," he insisted. "Nothing you've done changes how much I love you, Alex. Nothing."
...Gritz. I didn't deserve this grace.
I'd colonized his daughter's soul, killed his wife and the mother to his children, incited the possession of his only son, and yet...somehow, he'd still managed to forgive me. And better yet, love me.
How?
How had I stumbled upon a family so forgiving?
Hazel eyes cradled my heart. "I thought I could protect you from life and all its nasty thorns. But the day you learned to walk, you ran straight for the thicket." He huffed a laugh. "And my, what a garden you've created, Al."
We shared a watery smile.
Like the welcome gust of a summer breeze, my mother suddenly appeared at my side, and her presence was so captivating, so surreal, all I could do was stare at her.
Wavy dark hair framed her slim face, and I took a moment to study those teasing lips, her deep-set eyes, and a pair of rosy, prominent cheekbones.
She was just as gorgeous as I remembered, even in the masculine, loose-fitting ranch clothes she wore. Even with the backs of her olivewood hands dusted in soil.
"Mija," she greeted, her voice like a soothing cup of tea. "My brave, brave girl."
She reached for me, and I gingerly accepted her palm—the one I'd seen over and over again in my dreams, waiting for me to finish my task here. Beckoning me to my final chapter.
"No words can capture how proud I am of you, my love," she said, pulling me close enough that I caught a whiff of sweet apple blossoms. "You've won a war with your heart at the helm, and above all, you've stayed true to yourself." Her brown eyes glistened as she cupped my face. "You've saved us all."
I leaned into her hands, gazing at her through hot water. "...Not everyone."
My parents exchanged sad grins and stepped aside.
Ten feet away stood Fudge, my freckled white knight clothed in federate leathers and steel armor. But what caught my eye wasn't his wardrobe or his beautiful, animated face. It was his reflection on the water, and the stranger smiling back at me from the surface.
No...not a stranger. It was a boy from my past—from Laurel's past.
Hey, Kid, my fractured memories called out, recognizing the soul I'd mentored so long ago. The soul reborn to the same timeline as Alex Kingsley, and the boy who'd seized the opportunity to repay his commander's sacrifice. Long time, no see.
He stood next to a young man with the same fluffy, mouse-brown hair, and a relieved sigh left my lips.
Fudge had his older brother to look after him here...wherever here was. And he was far from alone, judging by the many souls who'd convened in this strange, echoey space.
My gaze traveled to Jaden and Nova next, who emerged from the mist with their elbows linked—so content in each other's company, I had to wonder if their bond transcended lifetimes. A girl with forest-green eyes ambled after them, no longer entombed in her sick, mortal body, and my heart ached at the reminder of Beckett's singular request.
Survive this war for me, he'd asked. And now he'd lost, in many ways, his third daughter figure.
Victor—bright, colorful Victor—saluted me from my left, flashing a pirate's grin, and I nearly fell to the ground in a broken heap. Not you too.
But there was no misery in those eyes. No grief or pain. Only love.
It was the man standing next to him that shocked me most of all. Chief Laughlin of the Friedman Clan bowed his head at me, silently acknowledging my achievements. The doubts and suspicions that once danced in his pupils were gone; I'd finally proved myself to him, once and for all.
He slid his arm around a woman's waist—Ayla's waist, I realized—and I shot the pretty brunette an appreciative glance. I hoped she knew our successes hinged on her journal, and that her family's sacrifices saved two bleeding nations.
I hoped she knew I would have looked after Molly if the Fates had allowed it.
To my right, Sora Sterling passed me a knowing smile, joined by Harmon, who stood faithfully at her side. The guard winked at me, thanking me for keeping my promise, and I just about burst into tears again.
Trevor had also paid me a visit, nodding in my direction like an old friend, and even Samuel Price—who looked like he had a million things to say to me, and probably twice as many to say to his son—came to pay his respects.
It pained me, seeing them all in one place. My friends, my comrades. Parents who didn't get enough time with their daughters. Daughters we'd lost too soon.
Victims to a cycle I'd vowed to destroy.
But as I looked at their smiling faces, I knew they were at peace here, that they'd found happiness in death. Whatever the afterlife might look like—whatever form of energy we adopted upon expiry—I knew it wasn't something to fear.
The mist evaporated entirely then, revealing thousands of soldiers and civilians beyond my inner circle. Young as toddlers, and as old as Mr. Wick, all dipping their chins in gratitude.
No, not everyone, they seemed to say. But enough.
Fudge's gentle laughter swept through the air like wind chimes, and I moved forward to join them—join my family in the after—but someone snatched my forearm before I could take my first step toward freedom.
Bewildered, I twisted to see who I'd forgotten, and the sight of my last guest turned me to stone.
The girl was my own image—practically identical except for some odd, subtle quality I couldn't quite pinpoint. Then again, perhaps I didn't resemble myself at all in this dimension. Perhaps I looked a lot more like a renowned commander stripped of her title.
The thought was alarming enough to keep me from glancing down at my own reflection.
"Wait," the other Alex said, her grip firm on my arm. "This isn't right."
Her voice—my voice—sent a chill through my nervous system. She wore the same clothes I'd died in, but the blood was gone, and I knew, without question, this was the soul I'd possessed all these years. The life I'd unintentionally stolen. The daughter I'd snatched away.
This...was Alex Kingsley.
"I've barely lived at all, while you've made it so far," she said. "It isn't fair."
It was the last thing I expected her to say after hijacking her destiny and murdering her mother. But of course she was just as forgiving and understanding as her parents.
And hell, she was right. This wasn't fair.
But that's also what made it a worthy sacrifice.
A good portion of the people in this room had lost their lives protecting me and my peers. My mother, my father, Sam, Fudge, Victor, Laughlin...they'd all paid the ultimate price.
And now it was my turn.
"I had my time...twice," I told her. "The world's a better place now; you deserve to see it."
She smiled, releasing my wrist. "I know it is. I was there with you the entire time, Al. Every step of the way."
My insides twisted into a knot.
She'd been trapped in our body for twelve years? And even worse, with me in the driver's seat? Getting us stabbed and skewered and almost barbequed by religious fanatics? "Gritz, I'm sorry. I didn't—"
"You didn't understand what was happening," she acknowledged. "Neither did I, at first. It took me a long time to realize what had occurred...and that my possessor had no idea she was foreign to this realm." She inclined her head. "You were just as lost as I was, and I found solace in that."
I blinked at her, struggling to process what she was saying. It was too bizarre, staring at myself this way, watching words fall from her lips and graze my ears from a distance. She was my false identity, my adopted personality, and simultaneously, all I'd ever known.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head back and forth. "If I'd known what I was, what I'd done to you..."
My mother placed her hand on my shoulder, her tone gentle as she said, "We forget our identities when we return to the world of the living. It doesn't matter if we're reborn or offered a doorway—the second we merge with earthbound organisms, all we're left with is a sense of purpose."
Knitting my brows, I glanced between her and Fudge and Sora. "If none of you remembered your identities, then how did you find me? What was your purpose?"
"To protect the loved ones imprinted on our souls," she answered, then sent an amused glance in Sora's direction. "And to meet the only boy my daughter would ever fancy."
The queen smirked at that, as if the sentiment were too relatable, and I didn't know whether to feel honored or embarrassed. I suppose that explained Styx's bizarre fixation on Will, at least. "But how did you know that I'd...that we'd...?"
A mother's intuition couldn't be that strong, right?
"Time isn't linear in this realm," Trevor explained, and a woman with the same dark, earthen skin-tone took his hand. He sent her a loving glance before continuing. "Because spirits live in the umbra, they know all that was and all that will be. Just like the mages who can see between worlds."
Nova grinned at me, tapping her eye patch.
"That's how you knew it would come down to me and Lucy?" I asked. "You saw it in the umbra?"
"Indeed."
I let the information simmer for a moment, wishing Will and Mason were here to drink up the answers too. They'd earned a satisfactory explanation, and it saddened me that they'd have to wait decades to learn the truth.
I faced my mother again, her revelation still bouncing around in my skull. "So...what was my purpose? Did I come back to fight another war...or did I come back to expose the truth about the Patrons?"
She tilted her head at me like it was an endearing question. "You didn't return to lead armies, darling. That's why killing enemies felt so antithetical to your calling." She smiled. "You came back to finish what you started. You came back to save the victims of greed and hatred—regardless of nationality. And you succeeded."
The statement stirred something within me, as if Laurel's past life had finally awoken from its slumber, and she was slowly crawling her way out of a deep, ancient pit.
"Well...it took me a while to figure that part out," I murmured. And over ten years to act on it.
"There's a reason spirits don't seek out human hosts," Trevor supplied. "They want to avoid feeding on innocents, of course...but they also understand the complications of merging minds and passions. Human consciousness is complex, and when souls collide, they're difficult to...peel apart."
I crossed my arms. "Then if two souls aren't supposed to share a body...did I break the rules, or did I knock into Real Alex on accident?"
"Only Laurel knows the answer to that." His eyes twinkled with mischief, and like all mysteries, he made me fidget with frustration. "At the end of the day, the Fates chose you both, and that's what I saw in the umbra. But I knew it would take years for that moment to commence, so I added a few loopholes to buy you time."
I pursed my lips. "Speaking of. Vanadium? You couldn't have picked...I don't know...steel?"
His laugh was soft and humble. "The mystery had to outlast the Order, or Godric would have forced us to remedy it. But Isaac planted a few clues for your troops in the mountains, as I instructed, and it didn't take long for them to catch on after that." He lifted a shoulder. "I left nothing to chance. Not even you, Commander."
I didn't know how to feel about so much of my life's path being orchestrated by a man, but his excessive meddling had also saved my nation.
"Thank you," I settled on. "For doing everything you could to ensure a just ending."
"It was a combined effort," he dismissed, though I could tell my gratitude helped repair the parts of him Godric had destroyed.
I turned back to Real Alex, brimful with questions and apologies. "If two souls aren't compatible...why did we work?"
She grinned as if she'd been waiting for the question. "When we woke up in that well, you thought my memories were your own. That's why you didn't attempt to steal any more of them for yourself. Instead, our body sought sustenance from other sources."
I looked down at my gloved hands with kinder eyes.
Regulas had been right after all, then. In order to survive, I'd ingested the memories of other earthbound objects and living things. My curse...for all its evils...had kept us alive.
"I resisted you at first, as most do," she said. "But when I realized who you were...and what the two of us were capable of, I saw what we could achieve—together. After that, I surrendered to you completely, happy to serve as your second in command."
I thought of Will's experience with his possessor and the torment they'd inflicted on one another. Alex and I could have driven each other mad—or landed ourselves in the psych ward—if she hadn't submitted to my control. And I couldn't thank her enough for that sacrifice.
Although, looking back, I wondered how much of my internal monologue had been her words of caution and her witty reflections these past twelve years. I suppose I would never know.
"Why do I still think your memories are mine if I'm dead? Why don't I remember my old life?" I wrinkled my nose. "Laurel's life...I mean."
Man, this identity swap was going to take some getting used to.
Her smile thinned. "Mom told me past memories only return to us when we cross over."
My gaze skimmed the faces of the dead. "This isn't...crossed?"
She slowly shook her head, and a sense of unease blossomed in my chest at the look on her face. "No...and I don't think you should leave the world behind. Not yet."
My eyes bugged, and I opened my mouth to release a string of protests, but she pressed on.
"I can be reborn again someday. I can start fresh. But those people down there...they're your family. They're your friends. They need the Alex Kingsley they know and love, not me." She glanced over her shoulder, as if she could see my people mourning me through the mist. And when she looked at me again, her eyes were glassy. "You should stay."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
She was willing to trade places after spending a decade subservient to my actions. She knew what my loss would do to my people—she'd witnessed the forging of those friendships firsthand—and her compassion couldn't allow their dissolution.
She was the part of me who could sacrifice everything for the good of humanity, and she deserved to show it.
I looked at her, then at the crowd of spirits who'd come to welcome me home, and my posture deflated. "...I can't."
I'd stolen this human's life before it could flower; I'd rewritten her story. And perhaps I'd known when I emerged from the portal that my time here would be short-lived. That I had a duty to fulfill, and once I'd accomplished my goal, I'd make my exit. Because as devastating as it was to say goodbye to the life I'd constructed, it didn't feel as though I had unfinished business.
Not like last time.
The real Alex Kingsley deserved to live her life—that much was clear.
She sighed at the conviction in my eyes, exasperated. "You really are stubborn, you know."
A grin returned to my face. "I'd wager it's a trait we share."
"Quite a potent dose for one body."
"It's a miracle it didn't kill us sooner."
Our matching smiles were bittersweet.
The water shuddered then, sending small waves across the endless sea of nothingness, and we locked eyes. "The portal's closing," she said. "If you want to cross, you'll need this."
She extracted a tarnished knife from her belt, holding it out to me, pommel up, and I immediately recognized the workmanship.
It was Tom's blade. The one I'd lost to the pond.
"...I'm going to need further instructions here," I said as I took the weapon, eliciting a few chuckles from my company.
She jerked her chin at my feet. "You might be done with the world, Kingsley, but the world's not done with you."
I followed her gaze to my boot, and sure enough, there was a thin red thread knotted around my ankle. The other end vanished into the white behind her, floating on the water's surface like a trail of blood.
I frowned and bent to cut the obnoxious tangle, but just as I reached for the string, it went taut, as if someone were tugging on it from a distance. As if someone were trying to pull me back to earth—like a kite that had drifted into the stratosphere.
"Told you," she said. "You've got people who love you down there."
I scowled. She knew I understood that; it's what made this whole thing so tragic.
"There's people who love me here," I deflected, lowering the blade to the red fishing line.
But as confident as I was in my decision to cross over, I couldn't find the willpower to cut myself free.
She watched me struggle for a moment, and then she crouched beside me, taking a few seconds to gather her thoughts. "The demons may be gone, but there's still a war to fight, Kingsley. We both know that." Her hand curled around mine, steadying the knife in my fist. "If you want me to fight this next battle, I can. If you want me to take the burden off your shoulders, I will. But it's not the selfless act you think it is, sending me to the warfront."
My sidelong glance was icy. "You know better than anyone that reverse psychology never works on me. Dad tried it a million times."
"Fine, fine. I just want you to think long and hard about what you're leaving behind, and whom." Her lips curled up at the edges, and she squeezed my hand. "So...what will it be, Al?"
********************************
Greetings from India! Getting this chapter out before I resume my travels abroad.
I will try to get the next chapter out in early February. <3
Thanks for reading, and happy new year!