He spent his life waiting for her; waiting for her to decide, to learn, and to finally reach her potential. Now he waits for her to live. He rests his head on her bedside listening to her shallow breaths and dreams of better days. His mind drifts to cheerful times: when he was smaller, and she was happiest. It was a day her father punished them for his slaughter of a pair of expensive curtains. As he scratched at the door, demanding his release, Moira climbed from her bed. She scooped him to her chest, burying him in her jumble of ribbon and bows.

“Oh kitty, don’t do that. It’s not so bad,” she carries him to the bed and strokes his head. “They say it’ll be different when I’m older. I’ll be queen one day—did you know that? You’re my first ever friend and we need to stick together. Father says you’ll train me and protect me. Ensure I stay put and don’t say the wrong words. But I don’t want to stay put. I want to explore, and I will make sure we aren’t trapped behind doors ever again. You and I are going to be unstoppable, you and me, until the end. So, rest now little one, because one day when you and I get big every day will be an adventure.”

He observes her failing body, her bruises, and her pale face empty of all life. He licks her hand, “you and me till the end.”

He wishes to stay but the living also requires his presence. He passes rushing servants, carrying fresh linens, and boiling water to the nurses. The chaos of the hospital winds down, leaving only a handful of staff left to finish the last of the surgeries. Despite the people occupying the hallway, he can’t shake the loneliness encroaching on his old bones. As she slips away, his joints grow stiff. Passing a mirror, he spies the grey whiskers peppering his face. Time ticks onwards, he feels it more now than ever.

“Eclipse…” Sara mumbles as she approaches. She’s quieter than usual, not just speaking but her steps as well. He knows her energetic cadence by heart, but the quietness of her steps now, takes him off guard.

“Is something wrong?” He purses his lips, of course there’s something wrong. Her world is changing again. It isn’t supposed end like this. It feels so unfair. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Take care of Sara, he hears Moira’s last request. Keep her safe, no matter what.

“I have a favour…please?”

She reminds him of Moira when she was younger. There was a time she asked for permission to do anything. To stay later to read in the library. To take the long path home ensuring they saw the little frog pond one last time before she went inside. For a bedtime story. Sara glances at him with the same pleading eyes, while nervously tapping her foot.

He already knows he won’t like what she’s about to ask. There’s more mischief in Sara then there was in Moira. At least it took Moira longer to reach a rebellious streak. Time ticks forward, he reminds himself. Soon they stop asking for permission. Their independence and untested confidence drive them to act on their own. Cherish this time.

“It depends on the favour.”

“I want to speak to Moira’s doctor.”

“They are doing all they can. We should let them work; they had a long day.”

“Please? I have a question for him.”

“Ask me the question, I may know the answer.”

“Its not like that. I need to speak to him.”

“I fail to understand…” He notices her fingers tugging at something behind her back. “What are you hiding?”

“Eclipse please, its important.”

The nurse summons the doctor after his rounds. Sara’s fidgeting is worse than before but she refuses to explain herself. She dismisses his concerns and his direct questions. When the doctor arrives, he’s exhausted and rubs his eyes as he sits on a wobbly stool.

“What can I do for you, your ladyship?” His smile is genuine. His amusement is subtle but how often to children voluntarily approach a doctor.

“I have a favour…”

“Sara, not this again.”

“Please, hear me out.” She pulls a leather pouch from her pocket. “I think I can help Moira’s wounds heal faster.” Her words come fast, not evening pausing to answer their questions, as she pulls out a small jar. He can’t follow her explanation. He hears the words forest and mushrooms as she shoves the salve in the doctor’s face. “Put this on her injuries, and it’ll speed up the healing process.”

“I’m sorry your ladyship, run that by me again?”

“I made this salve from a rare plant. Using my Mommy’s notes, I figured out how to extract its healing properties and put it in this jar.” She drops it in his awaiting hands. With one finger he tests the texture and consistency. He even smells it.

“When you say rare plant, what are you referring to,” but she shrugs his question. “Tell me you are not referring to the mushrooms from Lunar forest? Sara, I told you not to play with those. We do not know what the outcome is.”

“But Eclipse we do!” She rolls up her sleeves and shows him the faint scarring near her elbows. “See, this was from when I fell on the mountain past last week. After applying the salve, you can barely tell it was there. And it removed the big bruises my aunt left, with in two days. Trust me this works!”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“How long ago was this cut?” The doctor inspects her elbow with renewed curiosity.

“This is ridiculous. I explicitly told you not to experiment on yourself. Who knows what happens in the long term.”

“I used it months ago and I haven’t grown any extra limbs.”

“Or sprouted your own fungi patch on your arm,” the doctor chuckles.

“Do not indulge in this behaviour. She could have poisoned herself!”

“But I didn’t!”

“My lord, I’m as skeptical as you are.” He holds the jar to the desk light beside him. “However, for someone so young, she managed to create a simple yet solid salve. Its consistency is correct, the ingredients aren’t separating… all in all. It’s a good start.”

“But what if the mushrooms poison Moira?”

“I don’t see any signs of infection on her arm. The cut is healing in a clean expectant manner. Albeit faster than usual…”

“You are not using the queen as an experiment!”

“Do you want us to just sit and do nothing?” Sara argues. “I didn’t question you or Moira, not once. I went where you told me to go. Because I trusted you. Now I need you to trust me.”

“This is outrageous!”

“My lord,” the doctor pulls him aside. “I know this is a trying time for you all. For everyone.”

“I don’t need anymore sympathies doctor.”

“This isn’t about sympathy my lord. I’m not sure how your kind gains knowledge but us mortals here, require experimentation to understand the Gods’ mysteries. Theories only carry us so far. I’ve done all I can to save her Majesty. My knowledge reached its capacity. Which is why this, is a tempting possibility.”

“She isn’t some test subject…”

“I never said she was. I don’t know her Majesty personally, but what I do know is she is willing to throw down her life to help save another. If that little lady there found a way to potentially save others from a deadly infection, I don’t think her majesty would hesitate to travel down this path of exploration.”

He doesn’t answer right away. He tries to imagine what she’ll do if it were someone else on the table. If it was Sara, hanging by a thread and this doctor introduced an experimental treatment.

“She would try anything to save the ones she loved.” He mumbles adding, “she probably has enough faith in Sara than both of us combined.”

“I’m not saying the salve is a cure all. The ingredients she used, albeit the mushrooms, are basics found in many salves. In my professional opinion this is safe to use. I don’t see the harm in trying it.”

“How about next time you lead with that sentiment,” he mutters, “I detest wasting time.”

But the doctor smirks before going about his task leaving them to return to the others. Time ticks forward, extending the long shadows of sunset across the marble floor. Under the muddy footprints, the wayward grass, and the spots of trash, is the remnants of the once glistening throne room. The space feels colder; a chill creep over his aching bones.

He lost the motivation to move, forever planted at the foot of her throne. Chris paces somewhere behind him. While Nicole holds a string of prayer beads mumbling as her thumb rolls around each one. Sara fights sleep, nodding off only to jerk upright, then to nod off again.

The doctor summoned Zack to redress his bandages; leaving him behind with the rest of the weary souls. It’s not until after the servants light the candles does Zack return. He shifts awkwardly on his crutch, trying to keep his balance and hold himself together at the same time.

He knows the words before their uttered. Nicole senses it too because the supplication part of her prayers end mid word. She grips the beads to her chest; her request to the Gods to grant her desires falls silent.

“The doctor requests we say our goodbyes.”

His words hit like a battle hammer. He feels her now, drifting further away. Beyond where any of them can follow. He sees it on Zack’s face. It’s worse than when he pulled her from the balcony. The defeat, guilt, and hopelessness are bare for all to see. They follow with grim expressions, marching behind like criminals to the gallows.

Each step a calculating effort. He’s walked the palace at length on any given day, but this short route to the chapel is a laborious affair. The exhausted doctor moves about the space but the painful cries are softer. The soldiers rest and the nurses begin a long night of safeguarding the injured.

They step through a gap in the curtain into a space that’s too small for them. The sheets hang from ropes tied to the chapel statues. Sherseas’s mighty trident pokes through the sheet. A fraying rope connects her to her sister Ferus’s elk antler. The Goddess of water and earth anchor the temporary shanty town that the chapel became. Normally he’ll insist on ceremony in the sacred space but there is a time where they prioritise the living over the sanctified.

She lays in the bed, unresponsive to their presence. He’s accustomed to her paleness. To the bruises and the smell of iron. However, they are not. They pause, a deafening silence and a truth none of them want to accept. Nicole steels herself before approaching her bedside. They bandaged her violent wounds and pulled a crisp blanket to her chin. Nicole strokes her hair and whispers a quiet prayer for the dying.

“I love you, dear friend.” She kisses her forehead one last time before saying goodbye. Chris remains against the curtain, refusing to acknowledge the body. Sara steps from his shadow and brushes a rebellious strand of hair from Moira's eyes.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” she whispers, “so I’ll say sweet dreams instead. Don’t worry about us, we’re safe. And Zack’s here, he’s okay—I know you’re probably worried. But the war is over and it’s all okay.” Her throat catches as she moves her hand to her wound, “if my Mommy was here, she’ll heal you. I’m not that good yet, but I promise I’ll be one day. We love you very much.” She kisses her cheek. Chris scoops her in his arms and, with Nicole crying in tow, they exit.

“Your turn Sunshine.”

“What about you?”

He shakes his head. It doesn’t seem real. She isn’t supposed to die before him. She is to grow old and live a long vibrant life. He’s the one that’s temporary.

“What I want to say can wait until she’s awake.”

Zack pulls a chair to her bedside and holds her hand. Eclipse doesn’t protest, instead, he curls at his feet beside the bed and waits for sleep. As she slips away, they cling desperately to her. Zack was a mystery to him, but now he understands. They aren’t so different after all, she brought them both peace; anchored them in difficult times. But time ticks forward. The last thing he hears is Zack’s mumbled words;

“I don’t know why, but if by some ill-fated chance you die, my heart will too.”