Home.
It was not the end. She was not finished.
She willed herself, willed the world to halt.
Just as the Wyrdgate slammed shut with a
thunderous crack, all other doors with it.
And Aelin plunged back into her own body.
The Wyrdmarks faded into the rocky ground
as the sun rose over Endovier.
Rowan was on his knees before Aelin,
readying for her last breaths, for the end that
he hoped would somehow take him, too.
He’d make it his end. When she went, he’d
go.
But then he’d felt it. As the sun rose, he’d
felt it, that surge down the frayed mating
bond.
A blast of heat and light that welded the
broken strands.
He didn’t dare to breathe. To hope.