Page 214 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
Juliana raced ahead of him, sword and shield blazing with light, clearing him a path until he reached the Mirror, and Hawthorn snuffed out the last of the shadows.
The glass flickered, shrinking before its enemy, and let out a sound between a sigh and wail—like the call of wind through the mountains, ancient and alone.
It had no choice. The Mirror bowed beneath the weight of the Faerie King, shrivelling, churning, an insect in flame.
Until finally… all was still.
Hawthornbreatheddeeply,staggeringslightly, his hands still outstretched towards the Mirror. The glass stared back, smooth and still. “A cloak, or something,” announced the King of Faerie. “To cover this monstrosity. I think we’ve all had enough of looking at it.”
Someone moved forward to offer up theirs. Minerva arrived with a wounded Tiberius, barking orders at people to stop. No one was fighting any more. Everyone was still.
Caer looked up at Aislinn, sliding a hand to her cheek. “My powers are gone,” he said. “They’re gone, Ais, I—”
Aislinn’s mouth fell to his, and she kissed him like she’d drown if he moved away. He was all right. They were alive. She could touch him. It was all over—
“Ais?” Juliana appeared behind her, Beau at her shoulder. Aislinn bolted from Caer’s side to run into her arms, Hawthorn folded himself around the family and pulled in Cerridwen, too. They were all here. All safe.
Juliana inched back, holding out her hand to Caer. “I’m not usually a hugger,” she admitted. “But today I think I might make an exception.”
“She really isn’t,” Hawthorn said, mostly to himself. “The things I’ve had to do to secure hugs from her in the past. Begging, grovelling, prostrating myself…”
“Because you want to!” Juliana hissed. “Mainly because you enjoy telling this not-lie.”
“It feeds your fearsome, cold-hearted reputation, my lamentable doom. I’m thinking of you.”
“Of course you are.”
“I’m always thinking of you…”
Aislinn pulled Caer into the centre before Hawthorn could add the word ‘naked’ to the end of this sentence. She inhaled the scent of him, still not quite certain that he was really here, that they’d really done it.
“Has anyone seen Hecate?” Beau asked.
A sharp scream cut through the embrace. Luna was on the ground, cradling Dillon’s head. The rest of him was horribly still.
“Help!” she cried. “He just… he just fell—”
Aislinn scrambled over, Caer following. Her parents—mercifully unhurt—raced over too, Beau as well.
“This is my fault,” said Caer. “The magic I gave up. It was the only thing keeping him alive. I didn’t think—”
“Doesn’t… matter…” said Dillon, almost smiling.
“How can you say that?” Luna asked.
“It was worth it. Coming back. It was worth it. Just for this. Just for you…”
Tears ran down Luna’s cheeks, splashing against his ruined, perfect cheeks. “This isn’t fair,” she protested.
Juliana came up to her side and took Dillon’s hand. “It wasn’t fair the first time. You should not be doing this to me again, you stupid fool. What am I to tell your father?”
Before any answer could be given, Cerridwen appeared. “Get him in the coffin.”
“What—”
“The coffin. Now. Do it.”
No one argued. Caer, Hawthorn, Juliana and Aislinn all grabbed a limb and lifted, carrying him over to the other side of the room whilst onlookers assisted with the lid. They sealed him inside, the glass frosting over.
