Dane

When Warwick and I finally decide to land, the sun is already beginning to rise. We flew through most of the night, and my wings are weary from the unprecedented effort. Isobel has long fallen asleep on my back, lulled by the smooth ride we had after getting rid of the Gargoyle.

I gently shrug her off my shoulders onto the soft grass. Warm, all-consuming love courses through me as I flatten the mousy hair blown every which way by the wind. She looks so delicate, a tangle of long, tawny tresses and tattered clothes sprawled in the meadow. Her see-through lashes rest gracefully on her pale cheeks, her lovely lips are parted and a small frown weaves its way between her brows.

With a groan, Isobel cuts my admiration short. She flips to her side and buries her face in the crook of her arm. I can’t help but chuckle at her drowsy grumpiness.

But when her fingers travel absently to her scar, my mirth plummets. Shielding her from Warwick with my back as he busies himself with building a campfire, I gently lift her dress and trace the Gargoyle’s mark.

It’s bigger,I note with unease. When we first made love, the grey wound barely reached the underside of her chest. The change is subtle, but the wound already seems to have broken past the start of her breast.

Grateful that my brother can’t see my face from this angle, I force myself to remember yesterday’s horror.

Strangely enough, it’s not the tragedy of Isobel’s limited years that leaps to my mind. I guess I’ve already accepted that as an unchangeable fact around which the next decade or two will revolve. A small part of me realizes I’ll cherish each moment all the more ardently, as deep down I’ll never forget that we weren’t gifted with forever.

Instead, it’s my parents I think of. I recall the handful of times my father held me in his arms over the last few days, and the day my mother said I was handsome. The bittersweet memories produce a single tear, which I hastily wipe away to apply on Isobel’s scar.

She’d probably be furious if she caught me doing this, but I haven’t the slightest idea where to find a salt lake in this foreign country by the borders of Sowilo. My plan is to reach the Dead Sea Tabia mentioned at the ball so many nights ago, but we haven’t covered one tenth of the long journey to the Middle East.

When I turn around again, Warwick has succeeded in kindling a hearty fire. He meets my scrutiny with a small smile.

“I have a question for you, Dane,” he eventually announces after a few moments of tranquil silence. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m doubting your choice.”

I nod, ready for whatever interrogation my brother has ready for me. After all I put him through tonight, he has every right to ask whatever he likes.

“If you and Isobel aren’t mythically bonded, what will you do if you cross paths with your mate while she’s still alive? I can tell you love Isobel with your whole heart, but when it comes to fate…”

I glance at her slumbering form, tenderly tucking a loose strand behind her ear.

“I can’t say I didn’t wonder myself,” I confess gruffly. “But call me mad, I can't shake off this feeling that maybe, for this lifetime at least, Isobel and I are meant to be.”

Warwick cocks his head and scans me curiously. “How do you explain that?”

I focus on my feet as warmth creeps up my neck, unsettled by this heart-to-heart conversation with my brother. Most of our interactions in the past consisted of him teasing me, and me grumbling about it. It feels like our relationship has matured in the span of a few short weeks.

“Isobel has a condition that won’t bring her past age forty, give or take.”

Warwick’s mouth drops in horror, but before he can challenge the sanity of my decision, I hold up a hand and hold up four digits.

“It’s terrible, I know. But bear with me until I finish this thought.”

My brother bobs his head up and down, but he doesn’t look too pleased with me. Worry twists his noble features.

“As you know, phoenixes stop aging around their mid-thirties.” This time, I lift three fingers with my left hand, only to intertwine them with the four others. “It fits. What if it’s meant to be this way? She and I can grow older together, love each other, until… until we both pass on to our next lives. She awakened what’s human in me, and I’ll live as a human by her side.”

In a way, when the end comes either one of us will be bound by eternity – the crucial difference being that she’ll be forever gone, while I’ll be forever alive.

Warwick still studies me with concern. “And what will you do in this next life of yours, Dane? The one where you truly become a phoenix?”

I shrug, staring into the fire until my eyes burn. “I guess that human part of me will die with her. But I don’t want to think about that yet.”

My brother looks for all the world like he’ll toss every profanity at me, but after a few failed attempts, he bitterly swivels around and lies on the ground.

“Goodnight,” he snarls.

“Goodnight,” I respond as I curl wearily around Isobel. “And thanks, by the way. For everything.”

Despite it all, a deep sense of calm trickles through my veins as I gather this woman in my arms. I cover the two of us with my wings so we don’t catch cold, and let myself drift into slumber as well.