GRAY
Willow didn’t break.
She didn’t bend.
She didn’t show any signs of emotion as she set to work, laying the witches to rest as she had intended to do in the first place.
She laid the Purples beneath the stars, watching as their magic left their bodies and returned to the source in the sky.
She lay the Greens within the cemetery, buried in holes without a casket to keep them from the very earth that they would return to.
She let the wind wash over the Grays, turning them to dust and scattering them through the air.
She watched the Blues enter the tide, returning them to death so the water could speed the decay process.
She brought the Red to the garden, watching them hold one another close in affection beneath the old willow tree as they all went to their death together.
She took the life from the Yellows, watching as one of those who lived on set them aflame and let the fire claim what remained.
She did what was necessary, going through the motions as if every life did not weigh on her soul. As Willow sagged beneath the heaviness of what she’d had to do, the people of her Coven grew stronger. Magic returned, and her actions restored part of the balance.
She gave what the old Covenant had stolen from them.
When it was done, Willow merely turned away from her people and strode back toward the school. They remained, overjoyed at the return of
what they’d lost so slowly they hadn’t even been able to see it.
Willow had given them a gift; no matter what it cost her, they would never forget it.
I followed behind her silently, keeping my distance as she moved. She walked as if she herself were merely a ghost, returning to the room she shared with me.
She sought the comfort of privacy, where no celebration would infiltrate her mourning.
I followed, stalking after her in silence. I couldn’t even say if she was entirely aware of my presence until the moment she let the door slam in my face. I smiled as I pushed it open, finding Willow where she had moved to the window overlooking the party that raged around the fire down below. The witches danced in ways I hadn’t seen since the Coven first formed, the restoration of balance and lack of strict rules setting them free.
She slid to the floor beside the window the whites had repaired, uncaring for how uncomfortable she must have been in her corset. She curled her legs up to her chest, sitting on the floor beside the window. Leaning her face against the crystallized glass, she didn’t bother looking at me. “Leave me alone,” she mumbled, the broken sound of that quiet voice driving me to take another step toward her.
I sat beside her, close enough that our hips touched. I didn’t dare interrupt her, merely offering her my presence so she would know I was there. “I told you already, Witchling. You aren’t alone anymore.”
Willow’s face contorted, her brow furrowing as Jonathan emerged from the bedroom and curled atop her feet. She stared down at the witches and the celebration she couldn’t bring herself to join. Separated from the Coven she’d fought so hard to save.
She didn’t belong there any more than I belonged partying with my Vessels.
She pressed her lips together, her nostrils flaring as Jonathan started to purr. I hated that fucking cat more than anything, even as I stretched out a hand to scratch his neck.
A thank you for the company he offered to Willow in her time of need.
A broken sob cut through the room, Willow’s chest heaving with the force of it. She turned her face away from the window, finding my chest and burying herself in the fabric of my suit.
“I must look like shit if you’re being nice to the fucking cat,” she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against me and using it to brush away the moisture she didn’t want me to see.
I wrapped my arms around her, tucking her head beneath my chin and holding her close. I might not have understood her capacity for love, for caring about people she’d never even known so much that their deaths could affect her so strongly.
There was only one person in my heart.
“You’re as beautiful as you were the day I met you,” I said, even knowing that her eyes would be swollen and her face red.
“And you are so full of shit,” she said, a tiny chuckle in her voice.
She peered up at me, the gold and purple of her eyes glossy and rimmed with red from rubbing them. I cupped her cheek, willing her to finally believe me. “I love every side of you, Witchling. Even the parts that make you human.”
Her eyes softened, and something warm lingered in that gaze as she observed me. She shut it off just as quickly, ducking her head down so I couldn’t see her break. “Gray…”
“I’ve got you, Love. It’s okay,” I said, murmuring the words against the top of her head. Willow nodded against my chest, falling silent except for her ragged breathing.
We waited out the celebration together, separate from those that depended on us.
But never alone.
