Revenge| Book 6| A novel in the Blue Moon series| An Avengers fan fiction series |

~Epilogue~

Get ready for this. 

Guys, I cannot tell you how much I am thankful for you. Every single one of you. For making this series a part of your life, for making me a part of your life. You have changed me forever, changed how I write, how I look at the world and other people. We have created a family that has followed Thea from childhood to adulthood. We have laughed together, cried together, gone through thick and thin. Thank you for those who have been with me for three years, and thank you for those who have been with me for three days. You have given me a gift I can never repay. You have given me a reason to do what I love to do, a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to laugh or smile in the middle of a terrible day. God bless every single one of you. 

More sappiness to come in the video. And, as Thea pointed out, "Goodbye isn't forever". I'm going to take most of the summer to re-write Three Tasks and plan out "The Crimson Chronicles", but I should begin Blood Eyes in August. 

But I'll still be here! Please, feel free to message me, re-read the series, anything. If you need a friend or a virtual hug, remember that I'm always here for y'all. And I'll be back. Don't you worry. I'm ready to begin a new journey with a new character named Victoire. 

*hugs hugs hugs hugs*

Please VOTE and COMMENT!

I love you so much, 

Sierra 

~Epilogue~

Neidra's mansion, like her body, have burned, but her catacombs did not, and neither has her influence.

Fifty feet below the charred remains of the gothic mansion, echoey, dark hallways constructed of stone snake through the dirt. Water drips from the ceilings, landing with a plink on the rocks below. Rats scurry through puddles, growling and snapping at each other for pieces of the little meat they have scavenged. Every step taken is echoed back twenty times.

One of the halls opens to a large room lit by torches that hang on the walls. The firelight flickers absently on the walls, reflecting the two figures, one lying on a piece of slab and one darting around as harried as the rats.

The running woman is slight, with long, dark hair, a sulty figure, and violet eyes. Those eyes are alit with half fury, half madness, reflected in the flames. Her pale, beautiful face, is dirty, and her matted hair hangs unwashed down to her waist. Her dressed is mussed, almost black with neglect, but her fingers are perfectly clean.

She snaps them, close to the ear of the man on the table, and when nothing happens, the woman growls, low in her throat like an animal.

"Wake," she thrills in a hoarse, crazed voice, a voice consumed by the dark magic of her predecessor. "Wake, wake, wake, my love."

The figure on the table does not move. Baya growls again, slamming her hands on the slab, emitting electricity from her perfectly clean fingers that crackles around the dead body of Caomh.

He, like Baya's fingers, is perfectly clean. The droughts of blood that once tarnished his throat and chest has long ago been rinsed dry, the openings stitched together as Baya chanted ancient rhymes from the old book written in Neidra's hand. His copper hair remains washed and brushed, his eerie silver eyes staring up at the ceiling. Six months have done nothing to ravage the body, and except for the stitched-up gashes, Caomh looks as though he could be sleeping with his eyes open.

"Wake," hisses Baya. "Wake, my love, wake, wake, wake."

Caomh does not move. Baya hisses again, tearing at some of her hair. Tracing her fingers over the molded page, she makes out the faint outlines of a pair of silver daggers with a hooked edge. Each silver dagger is stuck into one body.

Flying across the room like a phantom, Baya opens a wooden box of weapons, never minding the splitters, and digs through the swords and misericordes. Her fingers are scratched by the sharp blades, spilling blood, but Baya pays the pain no mind. She finds the hooked dagger with the silver hilt and laughs gleefully, childlike, when she finds it and holds it up to the firelight.

She skips back to the slab upon which Caomh sleeps and with a lilting hum, she crashes the blade into the place where the still heart no longer beats. Still humming, Baya drums her too-long nails against the ancient rock and waits. And waits and waits and waits.

She screams when nothing happens, kicking the slab and ignoring the pain of the broken toes as if pain is of no consequence to her. She tears out the silver dagger from her former lover's chest and throws it with a clang across the stone room.

"I need the girl, I need the girl, I need the girl," hisses Baya. "The girl with the crimson eyes, the girl with the crimson eyes."

All this, the snowy white owl watches from the low rafters through narrowed amber eyes. When Baya begins describing the girl with the crimson eyes, Wairua lifts his wings and soars silently out of the room, deeper into the catacombs.

He alights on the edge of another slab, shaking out his feathers as the sounds of Baya's continuous chanting echoes through the haunted halls. Suddenly, the amber eyes fall on the second still body on the slab, barely visible in the darkness. Wairua shuffles back, his talons scraping against the rock as he lets out a short shriek.

Upon the slab, fully whole, fully unburnt, fully dead, covered with nothing but a red cloth, and stabbed through the heart with the other silver dagger... lies Videl. 

I BET YOU WEREN'T EXPECTING THAT!

;) 

What do you think? 
Please VOTE and COMMENT and I can probably go to bed without any death threats tonight. Just a herd of jubilant readers that have hope for the possible return of one of their favorite characters. 

Until next time,

Sierra