FROM THE PRIVATE PAPERS OF SEBASTIAN JAMES FAIRFAX

It’s because I love you that I had to tell you the truth.

You know everything now, Evie. You know that these were my failings: greed, ambition, selfishness, madness, destruction.

I did not mean to do wrong. I wanted to stride across the world like a great explorer, flying near the sun, soaring in thought and time and space.

I wanted to live forever.

Now my grave lies empty and I shall never find rest there. That is the inescapable fact, the dreadful truth. That is my reality.

But there is another truth, even here in the darkness. This memory is true. I must hold on to it and not let go.

This is what happened. I was in the crypt under the ruins at Wyldcliffe. You were there too—I saw your bright hair and your pale face—and there were women baying for your blood, screaming with fear and hatred. The coven. The Dark Sisters. They were trying to hurt you, trying to turn me against you. You were afraid. And then, beyond my own fear and my own need, I remembered something. I remembered that I loved you.

I called to you, my girl from the sea. I called out my love for you. I remember it so clearly.

You were transformed, like an angel. You summoned your powers against the High Mistress and her women: I saw the waters rise; I saw a vision of Agnes. I remember that you were close to me, and I wanted you so much, and then you were gone. Then there was only darkness and pain, and I forced myself to crawl to this hiding place.

Here, in this secret corner, I am surrounded by the tattered remnants of my former studies. I have no need of food or companionship, or light or warmth. I have pen and ink and my memories of you. I scratch out these words in order to try to reach you.

It is because I love you that I have to tell you the truth.

I am leaving this world, Evie.

Soon I will close my eyes and awake not in your arms but into everlasting night. And then there will be no waking from that deepest, darkest dream.