Arianna could not recall the drive home from Scott’s house to hers in the woods. All she knew was that when she saw her small cabin, she wanted nothing more than to be inside it, to shut out the world forever. She staggered through the front door and dropped her bag to the floor then made her way into her bedroom. She collapsed to the bed and felt a tidal wave of emotion crash against her.
Desmond was dead. She’d heard the words fall from Agnon’s lips, heard him say the only words that had remained in this world capable of bringing her to her knees. Her comfort, her inspiration, the only reason she had for waking each morning, Desmond, her love, was dead.
The air suddenly sweltered. She touched her fingertips to her forehead; felt her skin, warm to the touch, grow warmer. The room began to sway and the lightbulbs flickered overhead and in the lamps on her nightstands.
“Desmond,” she wept and wished she could hear his voice, if only for a moment.
Pain unlike any she’d ever felt or imagined rocketed through her, singeing every cell in her body with excruciating precision. The lights swelled again before each bulb burst, dimming for good.
Desmond was dead. She repeated the phrase in her head over and over. She did not know why. Repeating it did not diminish the torturous ache in her chest.
She felt as though a hole had been punched in her core, through the very center of her being, its edges raw and ragged. She closed her eyes and fought against it, fought the fiery flash of agony so pure it bled the air from her lungs. She tried to breathe, but felt as if her lungs had collapsed. Her throat had tightened and tears blurred her vision.
“Desmond,” she cried again and the dams that held her tears broke.
She cried with the very essence of her, her soul wept. A life without Desmond was unfathomable. They were connected. He was hers and she was his. Prophecy or no prophecy, she’d known it from the first time she’d laid eyes on him.
Imagining his glorious face bathed in golden light that matched the color of his hair made her double over clutching her waist. His hair was sunshine, his eyes the sky and she would never see either again, not as they were meant to be seen.
She did not have a picture to hold, or a sweater he’d left behind, nothing, just her mind’s eye to rely on to preserve his memory.
Suddenly, the too-hot feeling she’d had seconds earlier was replaced with a chill that felt as if it reached her bones. Violent sobs racked her body. She was powerless to stop them. Hurt poured from her in a great deluge.
Desmond was gone. And nothing else mattered.
When hours had passed and the tears slowed, Arianna leaned back against her pillows and rolled to her side. She tucked her knees to her chest and did something she had not done in a very long while. She prayed. She silently begged the heavens above for an end to her sorrow. She prayed to be with Desmond.
As she laid still, her sobs reduced to a steady stream of tears, she did not hear an answer to her pleas. She did not hear a thing, in fact. Instead, darkness, soothing, velvety darkness, lulled her, welcoming her with its blackened void and comforting her with arms readied to embrace her.