Moonfall | Book Two

CHAPTER 25

While the moonlight continued its slow retreat from inside his chambers, seated on his bed, Michael stared down at the wooden box in his hands that now housed the dead bird. The box's previous non-important contents were scattered on the floor by his feet, and in his peripheral shined Ellette's red cloak, which was laid out next to him.

The night was nearly over, which meant it was now or never. If he did not complete this task of ridding himself of everything he carried an emotional attachment to before the night ended, he feared dawn would only bring forth another day he would look back upon with regret.

He stood up, held the box in one hand and picked up the cloak with the other, then walked over to the already lit fireplace across the room. He crouched down in front of it, and stared into the dancing flames while the heat caressed his face. Before he completely fell prey to the fire's alluring show, he looked down at the wooden box and cloak.

He knew what needed to be done, yet his mind and body were at odds.

A quick flick of the wrist was all it would take for the box to be tossed into the fire, but instead of seeing it as the casket it was, all he could see was the tiny bird staring up at him with its beady black eyes.

His fingers were ready to loosen their grip on the cloak and let the flames consume it, but all he could think about was how the cloak marked the beginning of his relationship with Ellette.

Both she and the bird were supposed to be his second chance after failing to save Gabriel, but the bird was now dead, and Ellette was already close to meeting a similar fate.

And it was all because of him.

The smell of burning paper pulled him from his thoughts and his gaze towards the fireplace. When he saw the hem of the cloak had caught fire, he immediately snatched it out of the flame's clutches, tossed it onto the ground and stomped out the flames.

Once extinguished, he dropped to his knees, set the box down beside him and stared at the burned fabric covering half of the cloak. He tried to brush off the burnt parts, but doing so only made those bits crumble.

He pulled his hands away, accepting he could not salvage what had already been damaged, and the pile of ashy remains scattered around him and the cloak saddened him in a way he had not expected.

He knew if he wanted to return to how things were before he discovered Ellette in the Woodlands—before he remembered the past, before he foolishly believed he could save anyone—he had to get rid of anything and everything that reminded him of it. Of her. But seeing the one thing that initially sparked his feelings for her go up in flames had made him panic.

But was watching it burn not exactly what he had intended to do?

He stared between the box, the cloak and the fire.

One could not hurt if they could not feel, and in order to not feel, he had to rid himself of everything that made him do so. That was what he had told himself over and over for the entire half hour since his father had left, yet look how he had crumbled as easily as the fabric of the burnt cloak.

But if he could not even keep the bird hidden, how much longer could he keep Ellette hidden in the Woodlands? What if his father had discovered the cloak while waiting for Michael? There was no way to explain it, which was why he had kept it locked away in the first place. But locked away or not, so long as he kept it around, the possibility of it being discovered would always exist.

He let out a deep sigh, then gathered the box and cloak and stood up.

He turned towards the fireplace and threw the wooden box into the fire. The flames exploded as it swallowed the box, almost as if it were thanking him for the offering. Once it had its fill and the flames were no longer raging but settling into a calmed state, he tossed the cloak in.