FOR THE ABANDONED KINGDOM | BOOK 2

EPILOGUE

LETTING HIMSELF MOVE THROUGH THE WAVES of crippling memories with me by his side whenever he felt like drowning, seemed to be Denfer's only relief these days.

He hadn't talked to me about the monstrosities that had taken place in the white room; the monstrosities that rendered him unable to sleep at night and be inside the house for more than an hour. That one time I'd pleaded him to talk to me, the empty look had returned in his eyes. Not for long. But long enough for him to lock himself into the bathroom and empty his stomach from the few things he'd managed to eat that day. After that, I'd figured that he would talk to me whenever he was ready, if he was ever ready.

The process of us learning to live with a brand-new package of scars was slow, delicate and dehumanizing. It seemed to me that to return to a functioning human being after they'd teared you apart, you had to live through months—years—of being reminded of the thoughts, faces and words that had broken you until you had no other choice but to accept that yes, cruelties had happened to you, and yes, life moved on.

Staring out the kitchen's window, I was so lost in trying to come up with some epiphany that I almost didn't notice Denfer stepping into the room, the sound of crutches drumming on the floor breaking the silence.

"You know . . . I haven't forgotten the way you called me when you first found me," he said as he moved closer to me, footsteps slow and heavy. "But I think you have."

"Be sure, my love, I haven't forgotten either," I replied, offering him a small smile which he instantly returned.

Pressing a feather-light kiss on my lips, he said, "Thank you. For everything you're doing for me."

I wanted to say that the person he needed to thank was himself because he had been the one to endure hell for months on end, but had still decided to stick here, with me, no matter how hard it was. I wanted to say that while, yes, I'd found him, he'd been the one to give me something to find. If he'd let go, surrendered to the pain, the exhaustion and the insults, I wouldn't have found anyone to bring back home.

But I didn't have time to say any of that when the angel, who'd helped me find Denfer and carry him out of that white hole, was sitting in the living room. So I took Denfer's hand as he led me out of the kitchen to where the angel was waiting for us.

"You never told us your name," Denfer said as he sat on the couch next to me.

The angel smiled, an aura of seriousness and peacefulness cradling his face. I didn't know why but each time I took a look at his light blue eyes, it seemed to me that time slowed down until the whole concept of minutes and hours and years ceased to exist. Denfer had the exact same feeling, he'd confessed to me one night when we'd been talking about the angel.

"And I wish to keep it this way," he replied, his loose white clothes reminding me of the snow outside that had now almost melted.

Denfer just nodded, and the room fell quiet.

"I think it's about time to tell you something. Something that you both need to know if you haven't already figured it out. Something that will hopefully help you heal and discover new ways to face the world," the angel said, studying us both.

We stayed silent, patiently waiting for him to go on.

"The cards Amanda needs in order to control the world's fate have zero value if they can't absorb power by the Darkness itself every once in awhile. That happens with people, too. It's because of the darkness within them that people feel the sick need to control their fate. They want to control, to micromanage every little aspect of their lives because they don't trust life itself, because they can't accept that there is light waiting for them even if they are not the most successful and powerful version of themselves. So for something or someone to wield so much power to be able to control the whole world's fate, a massive amount of darkness is needed. The Darkness itself is needed."

I couldn't really understand where this conversation was going, and Denfer seemed to be feeling the exact same way. I watched him rubbing at his face, uneasiness rushing in. On the other hand, the angel remained completely calm.

"So there's a man who has endless darkness running in his veins," he continued, and the blood in my veins froze. "A man who has been aware of the cards' power and existence for a very long time now and thought that the only way to free the world from Amanda controlling it, would be for him to forever disappear. That way if Amanda ended up getting the cards, she wouldn't be able to make them work since she wouldn't have someone to fill the deck with the power of darkness, the power that can be sent out into the world only by the man whose magic is darkness."

I wasn't sure if Denfer was breathing. We both knew perfectly well the person that the angel was referring to.

"When two portals opened in Hell a few months ago, one of them leading here, in the Gap World, and the other one leading nowhere, that man chose to pass through the latter, thinking that he would save the world from being controlled by another cruel soul. But he didn't know back then something that only we, the angels and the creatures living in Heaven, knew. He didn't know that the second portal wasn't the end of everything. Instead, it led to darkness, the real, true, primal darkness that the universe was made of. No one can live there. So yes, whoever chose to pass through the second portal essentially disappeared, because no simple man has ever survived endless darkness. But that wasn't the case for that specific man. Someone who is made out of endless darkness can only thrive in darkness. Someone who is made out of darkness, when he walks into the same darkness that shaped him, will only become stronger, able to create a portal and come back here even more powerful. He will not disappear, like the rest of the men jumping in the darkness did. He will only find his true strength, learn the darkness's secrets and come back."

At this moment, I was sure that Denfer's heart and mine were dancing to the same beat. The beat of longing and hoping for our wildest thoughts to be true.

We looked at each other. His face had gained back a clearness I hadn't seen since four months ago. My hands found his, squeezed them. His palms were sweaty, my heartbeat was echoing in my ears.

"Ian is alive," Denfer murmured, his voice painfully low as if he were afraid that he would somehow change the truth by letting these three sacred words fill the air between us. "He—he wasn't a delusion. He was real."

There was not a hint of question in his voice. He wasn't looking for an answer. He knew the answer. He could feel it in his very bones.

"Ian is alive," the angel confirmed nonetheless, his eyes glowing with joy. "He was coming to see you in that white dungeon almost every single day."

I didn't know how to contain my joy, the excitement, the surprise, the feeling of redemption. I turned to look at Denfer and found the sunrise of a lifetime being mirrored on his smile. It made the paintings on the walls look somehow alive, the colors more vivid, brighter. Almost mindlessly and childishly, Denfer twined his arms around my body in relief and triumph and bliss.

"I can't believe it," he whispered and held me tighter. I could feel him smiling; I could also feel his warm tears on the crook of my neck. "I can't believe it," he repeated begrudgingly.

I pulled back, looked him in the eyes. Those eyes that were the same color as the gates to the Garden of Hope I liked to think that existed somewhere in this world; the gates that had finally opened; the gates that would set us free. We would walk through them with our shaking hands intertwined. The realization that Ian was still here, that he was somewhere in this mad world and that he'd somehow found a way to keep Denfer sane in his worst moments, was enough of a thought to hallow the grass we were about to pad on.

"We'll find him," I said, placing my hands on his face.

He nodded, taking my hands in his and leaving a kiss on my knuckles. "We'll find them all."

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