Empress Of Wrath, Blood And Desire

Epilogue: The end of the beginning

She's there again.

Like she always is. 

Her face lingers in the soft glow of my mind, so vividly perfect it almost feels real.

The delicate curve of her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, rosy, inviting.

She doesn't smile. No, she watches me with that quiet defiance I've come to crave as if daring me to reach for her.

As if she knows I will. 

It's not enough to watch. Not enough to admire her from this agonizing distance. I need her here. Against me. Tangled in my arms where no one else can touch her, can see her.

Because she was made for me.

She is mine.

I feel it like a truth written into my bones. She belongs to me. And I would burn the whole world to the ground just to keep her close.

But she won't let me.

Not even in this dream, where the laws of reality shouldn't matter. She still denies me.

Teasing. Taunting.

Does she know?

Does she realize the madness she's stirred inside me? How she's consumed me like a living breast, turned me into a man who can think of nothing but her?

God, she's so beautiful. 

More than beautiful. She's art. She's the kind of beauty that stops time, that makes the whole world seem dull in comparison.

Every inch of her carved into my mind, imprinted so deeply I can't forget even if I wanted to. And I don't. I never will. 

Her hair falls around her face, soft, flowing waves I've craved to touch. To sink my hands into while pressing my lips to hers, tasting the warmth of her skin. But here, in this endlessness, I can only look. Watch. Ache. 

She's speaking now, but I can't hear her. I never can. Her lips move, slow, deliberate. I strain to listen, but all I hear is silence- my punishment, I think. For loving her this way. For needing her too much.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing, and I feel it then. The ache in my chest. The void she leaves behind every time she fades. 

She can't leave me again. 

I move closer, drawn to her as if she's gravity itself. My hand lifts, desperate to touch, to prove she's not just another illusion haunting me. But she shifts, just out of reach, like mist slipping through my fingers. 

I whisper her name- at least, I think I do. I can't even hear my own voice.  

But she hears me. She must. 

Because her gaze softens. Just for a heartbeat. And it feels like redemption. 

I've never known obsession like this. 

She is everywhere, even when she's nowhere at all. I see her in the spaces between breaths, in the moments where silence lingers too long. She's under my skin, inside my veins, consuming every part of me. A wildfire I can't extinguish.  Not that I want to.

I love her. 

No- it's more than that. Love feels too small a word for what she's become. She's in my soul. She is my soul. 

But she's slipping further now, her figure dissolving at the edges. My heart pounds. No, not yet. Not again. 

I reach, calling out, but the world pulls her away-

And then, for the first time, I open my eyes. 

The light is blinding. Harsh. Too real. 

A voice pierces the fog, sharp with disbelief. "Oh my God... you're awake." 

Blinking, I try to focus. Shapes come into view-white walls, sterile air. The scent of antiseptic clings to everything.

A hospital. 

The voice belongs to a doctor. She stares at me, clipboard forgotten in her trembling hands. 

"This is-this is incredible. You've been in a coma for eleven years, Marcellous. Marcellous Di Capo."

-

The end.

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In the near future, there might be a second book 📕

Hope y'all enjoyed this book as much as I enjoyed writing it☺️✨❤️

Love me always,

She-stay-lit💕💕✨