Chapter 25: Goodbye

Just say goodbye and go, Diana. I took a shaky breath, the weight of the stolen scrolls and the cold iron of the armory blueprints feeling like a physical burden inside my satchel. It was late—the hour when the shadows of Fortundra stretched long and skeletal, flickering under the dying light of the wall sconces. Everything was prepared for the grueling journey back to Ultarion. By dawn’s first light, I would be well on my way back to Silvermere, back to the possibility of seeing my parents again.

The door swung open, and Zion stood there. He looked disheveled, his usual regal composure softened by the remnants of sleep. His dark hair was a mess, and he wore only a loose linen shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. "Who is it?"

"It’s me," I said, my voice sounding smaller and more fragile than I ever intended it to be. "I apologize for the hour, but I... I had to see you."

"Diana?" His eyes searched mine, his expression shifting with lightning speed from confusion to instant, piercing concern. He stepped back to let me in, but I stayed firmly on the threshold. "What’s happened? Is it Angela? Has someone troubled you?"

"Nothing," I lied, shaking my head as if I could physically shake away the crushing weight of the guilt. "Nothing like that. It’s just... I have to leave Fortundra. Tonight. Immediately."

Zion’s brow furrowed, his ink-dark eyes darkening further. "Leave? Now, in the dead of night? Have I offended you, Diana? Has my hospitality been so lacking that you feel the need to flee into the dark?"

"No," I said quickly, the truth slipping past my defenses before I could catch it. "Quite the contrary. You have been... far more than I expected."

"Then why this sudden haste?" He reached out, his hand hovering near my arm, the heat from his skin radiating through the cool night air.

"Fate is calling," I said, leaning heavily on the script I’d practiced in the mirror for hours. "I am a wanderer, Zion. I long for a new horizon, for the wind at my back and a road I haven't walked."

"At midnight? In a country you barely know?" He stepped closer, closing the distance until the warmth of his presence made it difficult to draw a full breath. "The roads are treacherous, and the mountain passes are unforgiving. Stay until morning. Let me provide an escort."

"I can't," I insisted, nodding firmly even as my resolve began to fracture. "I have to go. But... I promise I won’t forget you. Or the roses. Or the way you look at the stars."

"And I will never forget you," he replied softly, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate register that made my heart ache.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the weight of every lie I’d told and every truth I was terrified to speak. I looked up at him—really looked at him—noting the genuine warmth in his eyes and the slight, pained curve of his lips. I felt myself drawn into his orbit, a moth to a dark, magnetic flame. I took a step forward until the space between us vanished entirely. For a moment, the world felt still. My telekinesis, usually a buzzing, restless storm of kinetic energy under my skin, was suddenly, perfectly quiet.

"We’ll see each other again, won't we?" I asked, a nervous, jagged laugh escaping me.

"I believe so," he chuckled, a low, grounding sound that vibrated in his chest. "I have a feeling you aren't the type to truly disappear. If you ever wish to return, the gates of Fortundra will always be open to you, Diana. No questions asked."

"Zion, I..." I trailed off, the words dying in my throat.

The guilt was a physical ache now, sharp and jagged. He had been nothing but kind. I had arrived as a liar, a parasite looking for cracks in his armor to exploit, and he had responded by offering me his trust, his art, and a home. He could have thrown me in the dungeons the moment he caught the first scent of my deception, yet here he was, looking at me with nothing but raw sincerity.

I stopped thinking. I stopped being the spy from Silvermere and for one heartbeat, I was just a girl who didn't want to say goodbye. I leaned in, closing the final inch of distance to press my lips against his. My hands found the silk of his messy hair, pulling him closer as if I could anchor myself to his goodness, to the version of me he believed in. His hands, strong and steady, found my waist, pulling me flush against him.

For a heartbeat, the mission didn't matter. The blueprints didn't matter. The King of Silvermere and my lost parents didn't matter. Only the kiss did—a whirlwind of honey, smoke, and a devastating, final goodbye.