Page 69 of The Curse of Golden Blood
I gathered the worn book from the table, running my thumb over the creased spine. At least with him, there were no secrets, no curses, no schemes. His sweet innocence reminded me of the times when I believed magic could only be found in tales.
The gardens below the manor were heavy with rain, each petal trembling under the weight of water. I clutched the book to my chest as I made my way down the winding path, the scent of wet stone and night-blooming flowers pressing close.
The magical door to the healing dome yielded at my touch, its frame whispering with faint silver light as I stepped through. Warmth and the scent of crushed herbs met me, the air thick with steam from the central pool where the sick were lowered into the enchanted waters.
I searched for him immediately—small head, fragile shoulders, that stubborn spark in his eyes. He should have been there, leaning against the pool’s edge, waiting for me to begin the next chapter.
But he wasn’t.
Instead, two healers stood at the far side of the water, hunched over a floating body.
My heart stopped.
It was Riden.
I let out a cry, rushing to his side. He was floating in the water, his eyes closed, his mouth parted. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his veins were stark beneath the surface.
"Riden," I whispered, reaching for his hand.
The healers looked at me, and one shook her head.
"It's too late. He's gone."
"No." I shook my head. "He was getting better."
"I'm sorry, Miralyte," she said. "He fought bravely, but the Rot is stronger."
Riden's hand felt cold in mine, and I pulled him closer. His skin was pallid, his lips tinged blue. He'd been fighting this sickness for weeks, each day growing weaker. And now, I feared it was too late.
I took his face between my hands and stared into his pale eyes. "Come back," I whispered. "Come back to me."
Riden didn't respond. He just floated there, lifeless, his body like a husk of what he used to be. His hair was floating around his face, and his limbs looked impossibly small. And I hated it. I hated it so much.
Gently, I pressed a kiss to his forehead, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. "Rest now," I murmured.
I turned to the healers. "What happens to him now?"
The healer glanced at Riden, her expression hardening. "We burn the bodies," she replied.
Numbness crept over me. Burn the bodies. So it was over then. It was really, truly over.
I swallowed hard, forcing back tears. I couldn't afford to break down now. Not with everyone watching. Not when I still had work to do.
"May I stay with him?" I asked.
The healer nodded. "Of course."
She and the other healer walked away, leaving me alone with Riden. I looked at him, taking in his delicate features. His dark hair framed his face, and his lips were still slightly parted.
I knelt beside him, letting the warm water lap at my knees. He looked so peaceful, so serene. I almost couldn't believe he was dead. But the emptiness in my chest, the hollowness where his presence had once been, was a constant reminder of what I had lost.
I pressed my palm to his cold cheek, feeling his skin against mine for the last time. I'd made a promise to him. I would read the next chapter. And I would not let him go alone.
I slid into the pool, the water rising up around my chest. It was warm and soothing, like a comforting embrace. I reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly.
"You're okay now," I murmured. "I'm here."
He didn't answer. He was still as stone, his eyes closed, his body unmoving. I felt his emptiness, a vast expanse of nothingness where his soul had once been. He'd fought so hard to live, to recover from his illness. And yet, the Rot had taken him anyway.
