Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  A supernatural peace, a calm fills me, the feeling of absolute pure love takes over as I accept my fate. It is not a defeat, not a weakness to understand the fact you have crossed the great divide, and that the body you once occupied, that you cared for, that cared for you, that your children knew, that your wife knew intimately would be of use no more. In the end, it was nothing more than a vessel—a glove that was destined to lie abandoned from the beginning.

  “Thank you.” My voice fills the stillness of this chasm, of this dimension that’s resided right next to ours all along. Our eyes lock, and I thank him with something deeper than words could ever do. But mostly, I charge him to look after Skyla—after my precious boys all the days of their lives. Dudley gives a somber nod as if he understands this completely.

  I look to his left, and I see the shadow man, no longer hidden by darkness, but exposed in the light as a great and glorious angel of God. The angel of death himself. He is tall and stately, and glows with light as much as he does charm.

  He holds a hand toward me. “Gage Oliver, eternal son of God, the kingdom welcomes you home.”

  Then the rest of them step into the light—Logan first—and my spirit soars at the sight of him.

  He grips me by the shoulders and offers a pained smile. “Welcome home, my brother. I love you so much.”

  My arms lock around him, and I can’t help but marvel how solid he feels, despite the fact we’re both missing a body. My chest bucks as all of the grief, the sorrow, the joy presses over me at once. A soft humming, the very embodiment of love vibrates through our beings, and I relax over it, letting that feeling permeate me as if it had owned me all along.

  Logan’s mother and father, my grandparents lunge at me with a joyous embrace.

  “Sweet child,” my grandmother whispers into my ear. “It’s so good to finally have you home.”

  “Daddy!” Little Sage jumps into my arms, and I laugh as I spin her, my heart so full of joy, and yet the sorrow sinks in nevertheless. “Don’t be sad.” Her tiny hand slaps the side of my face, forcing my attention to her and not to the horror that lies at my feet—to the horror brewing beyond these walls. The sorrow is great, and it begs to overpower me. “You’ll live with me now,” she sings. “I’ll teach you everything that Your Grace has taught me. I’m going to be a mighty ruler. She’s already taught me all I need to know. That’s because I’m your daughter, Daddy. You are a ruler, and so am I.” She stabs herself with her tiny finger and laughs. But I can’t stop looking at that long dark hair, those eyes, twins to mine. Sage is the balm I’ll need to get through this. Without Sage, it would have been impossible. It still very well might be.

  “You are so beautiful, and I love you.” I land a trembling kiss to the tip of her nose. My eyes beg for tears to come, anything to match this lead coat of grief. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, to face this new realm and all that it means for me, for Skyla and the boys.

  “Look!” She beams as she points behind me, and I turn to find Skyla’s father, Nathan, and Candace standing side by side. They each take me in their arms and welcome me home with a strong embrace. Nathan bucks with tears, and I join him, marveling at the fact I can feel such emotion at all. Here I was every bit the same, the pain all that real, despite the fact I had no body to pour it out with.

  Nathan slaps me over the back. “You did good, kid.” He winks in that warm way only he can, but his lips dance with grief as he tries his best to deflect the pain. His tears and mine, they are all for Skyla and the boys.

  “And I second that. You did well.” Candace laughs, and yet her sentiment feels genuine. “I never had anything against you.” She frowns at the body lying on the floor in a puddle of sanguine liquid, a marinade of grief. “This action will not go unheeded.”

  Dudley steps in and gives a sober nod. “It is time.”

  I blow out a quiet breath and hike Sage up on my hip as I give one last look around at this weary world. How could I leave it? How could I stay? Envy rots me from the inside out at those still dwelling in the living world. I’ve sensed as a child I wouldn’t be part of it for long, but I wanted it. I wanted to walk all those golden miles with Skyla by my side. It was my greatest desire to grow blissfully old with her, to die happy in her arms, in our bed, somewhere in our tenth decade of life. Oh, how blessed the soul that lives it. But to abandon Skyla in my youth. How selfish of me to bring this disease upon her. I knew that life wouldn’t last for me. At the end of the day, I was selfish because I truly did know.

  “I guess it is time.” My voice breaks, and I marvel at that.

  Dudley ushers me forward, and we move through a tunnel of light, our feet never hit the ground as we glide outside of time, far outside the bounds of this weary world.

  We step out into a better place, onto the holy mountain of the living God, and I follow Dudley through the wide gates, through the citadels of the holy place, to the royal blue throne of the Almighty.

  We walk past a bevy of golden thrones, each with a beautiful spirit seated firmly over its base, and Sage bucks for me to put her down. She walks steadily alongside of me, her tiny hand still safe in mine.

  We walk past the thrones of the twelve kings of Israel, past the twelve apostles, until we come upon three thrones each with an emerald rainbow spanning over the girth of them. Beneath their feet lies an expanse of sparkling ice. Seated in the center is the mighty light of the living God, His glory and fire inextinguishable, and my spirit stills in the presence of His radiant beauty. His love washes over me like a river, and I am freer and far more joyous than I have ever been. All of love stems from Him, all things that are good and holy and right stem from this one and only living God before me. The throne to His left is seemingly empty, but instinctually, I know this belongs to the Holy Spirit who is here, and there, and everywhere. The throne to His right belongs to the Son, His Son, Jesus, and He rises from His seat, His spirit already perfectly fitted to His new body.

  Marshall clears his throat. “It is my great honor to present to you, Your Royal Highness, Gage Barron Oliver.”

  The Son himself comes in close. His eyes are a kaleidoscope of gold flecks, as green and bright as a fresh mown lawn. He is strong and peaceful and a love exudes from him that no human could possibly comprehend in its totality. He is humble and wisdom radiates from His very being.

  “I can’t be dead.” My voice cracks. “I have so much to live for, so many goals and dreams.”

  “You were born for this.”

  “For my death?”

  He offers a peaceable smile. “I was born for mine.”

  The universe stills around us as this truth sinks in.

  “And it will take death to meet my goals—my dreams.”

  He gives a single nod. “Gage”—he says my name, and it sounds like a song—“well done, my good and faithful servant.”

  He takes me into his arms, the loving arms of a Savior, of my Savior, and I see my life flash before my eyes once again, I see my death, and I see eternity unfurl before me, and I know it will all turn out just right. Despite the fire in Demetri’s belly, despite anyone or anything. I see how it was meant to be, and I sigh in agreement with it.

  It is well.

  It is well with my soul.

  But Skyla is there, ever so in the forefront of my mind, and my heart aches with its undying affection for the girl I married. Our covenant has been severed far too soon, and it will be no more. Our marriage, with all of its joy and all of its sorrows, has dissolved like a vapor, like the fog that moved through the island I once called home.

  If only I had known my hour was upon me, Skyla and I would never have left that bed last night. I’d still be there with my arms wrapped tight around her, unwilling to let go even in death. But this chasm is wide and deep, and no matter what happens as we move forward, one thing is certain—we can never go back.

  Our love, our marriage, our perfect plans, they were as good as the flesh we stood in. They were ephemeral, on a steady course
of entropy, breaking up before our eyes, fleeting far faster than we could have ever understood. All of my hopes, all of my dreams, have surrendered to this eternal abyss. I am no longer a participant in life, but an observer, another soul awaiting the great and wonderful marriage supper of the lamb. But Skyla lives. Her days march on without me, as will the boys. The pain is too much to bear. Even here in eternity it is too heavy, too burdensome, too hauntingly much for me to ever accept.

  It all ended far too soon. Skyla. If I could only have one more moment with you in my arms, the boys cradled between us.

  The sharp agony of the finality of it all sets in and my entire being aches with grief.

  I will always love you, Skyla.

  Always.

  You have my heart—forever.

  Logan

  All on its own Paragon glows with an ethereal glory, but this night, this peculiar night, there is an otherworldly patina shining over us, sanctifying us, telling us that it is making everything new.

  Coop, Wes, and I huddle together as we try to figure out how the hell to get Laken off of Raven’s Eye.

  Wesley and I stare one another down in Demetri’s backyard as if it were a standoff.

  “Fine, I’ll take Coop.” He grunts out the words as the party rages around us. The fog has settled over Demetri’s grand estate, and both Lizbeth and Emma dance the boys around with blankets draped over them.

  I’ve spent the last half hour trying to convince this cheap knockoff of my nephew that Cooper needs to be a part of this. Nobody on this planet, not even Wesley, wants Laken back home and safe more than her husband. But Wesley, of course, doesn’t believe it to be true. In truth, it might be a toss-up. Wesley is hungry for her love. He is impatient at best with her decision to leave him for Cooper Flanders. And most of all, he is primal and dangerous on every single level. Wes acts first and thinks later, and that alone is why Laken is stuck on Raven’s Eye. Because Wesley himself invited the government to Paragon with open fucking arms.

  Coop slaps me over the back and offers an anemic smile. “Tell Gage I said goodbye. I have full confidence Laken will be home in a few short hours.” He looks to Wes with a shot of hatred in his eyes. “The home I share with her. In my bed where she belongs.”

  Wes shakes his head as he starts for the woods, and Coop takes off with him.

  Skyla comes up, breathless, removing her glittering mask for the first time tonight. “We need to get this show on the road. The boys are starting to fall asleep, and Demetri is about ready to burp out his speech whether Gage is present or not. Speaking of my absentee husband, where is he? I’ve been texting him nonstop, but he’s not picking up.”

  “I was with him out front before I hunted down Wes. Maybe he’s still inside.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders, and her flesh trembles beneath me. “You’re ice cold. Take my jacket.”

  “Thank you, but I feel fine. I just have this unsettling feeling.” Her diamond-colored eyes flit from left to right, anxious and searching.

  “You probably should.” I nod past her. “Demetri just took both the boys. Don’t worry.” I rub my hands over her bare shoulder, warming her. “I’ll find him.”

  Lizbeth struts over with her hands on her hips, her eyes shooting daggers at us. “Skyla Oliver! Get over here. Demetri says he’s cutting the cake in five whether the two of you show or not! You are being rude, young lady.”

  “Rude?” Skyla chokes out the word. “Gage probably got lost in that maze Demetri calls a home. It’s that demon who’s being rude.”

  Lizbeth scoffs as if Demetri’s rudeness were an impossibility. “He who holds the gold makes the rules. You have five minutes.”

  “I’ll find him.” I sigh at the sight of that behemoth mansion.

  “I’m coming with you.” Skyla speeds alongside me as we head in and pass Ingram. She pulls at his lapel, and he turns to her. “Have you seen Gage?”

  Ingram smiles with those blue lips, his skin an unfortunate shade of parchment. “Just a few minutes ago. He went that way.” He nods down the hall, and I take Skyla by the hand, gliding us past the empty rooms, the lonely stairwell.

  “Gage?” I call out, glancing down the hall that leads from the entry, and my voice comes back to me as an echo. The foyer is empty, and we head into the grand room that sits idle—a stark contrast from the festivities taking place here just under an hour ago.

  “Gage?” Skyla calls out as we scan the vicinity.

  A slick puddle reflects purple under the harsh blue lights—and I head in that direction. A lake blooms in the southern part of the grand ballroom, and my natural curiosity quickly gives way to fear. A pair of shoes sits straight up as if there were a—body.

  “Oh God,” I pant as I speed over.

  A suit, a body, a pool of red, a pool of blood. I drop to my knees, slipping in the cold sticky mess.

  A body. A body. A body and no fucking head.

  “No!” I bark it out like a reprimand, like a battle cry, like the horrible realization it is.

  “Gage?” Skyla’s voice shrills to the ceiling of this vast chamber. Even the chandeliers tremble with her howl. Skyla slips in the crimson liquid as she slides to the place where his head once stood. “Gage!” she pants, falling on all fours, the blood splattering her gown, her pale skin, blotching up her bone-white face like a massacre. “No, no, no!” Her hands pat the floor, soft at first then hard and violent, splashing the blood of her husband three feet into the air. “Stop the bleeding,” she whispers under her breath like a chant as her hands try to cover the gaping wound that is his neck. But the blood pours out like a river, far too much to ever be possible. Her hands flail in the liquid until it’s dripping from her head, her face completely covered, the whites of her eyes alone are glowing.

  “Skyla!” I slide my way over in the crimson liquid, my body wet and sticky with the blood of my brother.

  Bodies fill the room, screams from other people. Emma and Barron kneeling in the muck and the mire—the marrow of their only son’s body.

  Skyla bucks and slams her arms down over the pool of blood that spurts up around us like a fountain. Her hands slam against the floor over and over, launching a sea of red, wave after burgundy wave.

  “No!” she shouts to the heavens, but it doesn’t change a thing. Her limbs still splashing, her screams vibrating this entire damn house. I lunge to stop the flailing, and we slip and roll over the viscous evidence of Gage Oliver’s demise. We are bathed in his blood. Drinking it down like holy water. Dousing our hair, our eyes, our clothes, and every last square inch of our flesh in the blood of the one we love. Gage, who I love with something deeper than a brother. He is the other part of me, the better part, the one I gifted my wife to. I would have died in his place a thousand times. His family needs him. Hell, I need him, too. It’s not his time. It couldn’t be.

  Skyla wails and thrashes, inconsolable. She is trying to make the blood disappear, pounding her fists over his chest, trying to kill Gage all over again, her teeth stained pink, her mouth dripping with all of him poured out over her.

  Love.

  The one we love is gone.

  And all we see is red.

  Wesley

  The Transfer is cold, comfortably dismal, and on this blessed night, understandably empty of its usual cheerful occupants.

  I let out a heavy sigh as I lead Coop to the entry of my infernal home.

  “Let’s take a minute.” I glance at the window where a peach glow emits. “That’s Tobie’s room.” I nod in that direction. “I gave Kresley the bed next to hers. Far more than I wanted Kres to bond with her, I wanted Tobie to know a female presence. Kres has been good to her, though, and I appreciate that.”

  Coop blows out a tired breath as she shakes his head at the window. “You always did like Kres. When Laken showed up at Ephemeral, she begged you to choose her, but you stayed with Kresley. That says something, Wes. You care about her more than you realize.”

  My heart shreds as I remember our time bac
k at that haunted academy where Demetri, my own father, roamed the grounds. “I was confused. You know that. I wanted Laken, and I didn’t understand why.”

  “I know.” He sinks his forehead into his hand, already tired of my speech. “Does Kres know why you had her playing body double?”

  It takes a full minute before I can bring myself to answer. “No, I let her enjoy the ride. I had a feeling it would be for a season. In no way did I imagine I’d need her services so soon.”

  “Wes.” Coop takes a staggering step back. “Kresley Fisher is about to be handed over to the enemy. They will gut her alive and not think twice.” He shakes his head as if it were suddenly too real. “If she’s not volunteering to take Laken’s place in that facility, I can’t do this with a good conscience and a clean heart. I want no part in this. There is another way, and I’ll find it.”

  A dull laugh thumps through me. “This is the only way. Trust me, I know. Laken will have to lay low—maybe wear her hair different for a time. She said she didn’t give them her name.”

  “That’s true. But Chloe could have given them that, plus her driver’s license number. She’s not playing fair. She certainly doesn’t give a shit about her.” He steps in quick, his anger already percolating at eye level. “And you want to know why she did this? To get back at you. Because Chloe, like everybody, knows that Laken is the only thing you care about. My God, I hope you love Tobie half as much.” He grunts in a fury. “And because of your unrelenting obsession with my wife, Laken will always be a mark for your enemies. They will always know the best way to hurt you is through that black heart of yours, which you buried in Laken all those years ago.” His chest bucks with a quiet laugh. “And, of course, if you do love Tobie as much as you want the world to believe, she too will be a target for your enemies. You are a dangerous person, Wes.” He leans in and growls out the words, “As long as you are pushing Demetri’s agenda, you will remain a toxic being that nobody in their right mind should ever be close to.” His eyes close a moment. “The irony here is that the only woman who has ever loved you with as much zealousness that you pour out on Laken is Kresley. She moved to Paragon for you. She changed her face for you. She’s holding your daughter while you cavort with the living on the surface, and all the while you’re gearing up to bloody the waters with her, feed those hungry sharks you’ve lured to the island.” He shakes his head, dismayed. “You’re wrong, Wes. Laken will be in danger for a very long time because of your foolishness.” He steps in quick and snatches me up by the collar, his angry mouth a breath away from mine. “I’ve got a little newsflash for you. The reason Laken and I haven’t sunk you into a grave of your own is because we have something far better waiting for you. A few friends of ours got together—all plotting your demise. We’re taking you to the Justice Alliance. We already submitted the suit against you long before you kidnapped Kres and deformed her. You’re going to rot in a hell of your own making. How dare you fuck my wife day in and day out back in time, here in the Transfer—both under false pretenses. You built a rock solid case against yourself, Wes. Going back to sleep with Laken was reprehensible, but when we learned of Kresley, we all but high-fived one another because you sealed your fate. You rape Laken every time you sleep with her, with Chloe in Laken’s form—with Kres and that mask she wears like a clown for you. The Justice Alliance is fucking pissed, and so am I. Remember back at Ephemeral when you came to me for advice? When I was your right-hand man? The cleanup committee? The one you relied on most? I was your fucking brain, Wes.” He gives me a hard shove, and I stagger to gain my footing. “When you stopped listening to me, you failed hard and fast.”