She couldn’t see the ceiling fan anymore, only a blur. Her right arm, the last standout, fell limply to her side. She heard a snicker from Jade the moment she finally went limp. What was so funny? What…what was even happening? Shouldn’t she be doing something? It felt like she should be doing something, but she could do it later. Right now, she was tired, so very tired, and all she needed was sleep and then she’d be back better than ever. Just let go, and drift away to sleep.
The sound of shouting pierced her haze. Movement. Angry voices and the sound of a struggle. Jade’s fangs were ripped out of her and someone was on top of her. Not Jade, not Jade this time. A blur of waving red filled her semi-conscious vision. Magnolia? She was screaming something, yelling at her, slapping her cheeks. It seemed important, whatever she was trying to say. Poppy wanted to listen, but now, she was just too tired. Too sleepy.
She’d listen later. Right now, all she needed was to drift to sleep. When she woke up, that…that was when she’d listen. The red hair vanished from her vision as her world descended into murky blackness. Bit by bit, her reality slipped away. First went sight, and then sound, and then sensation.
Bye.
Epilogue
Immortality was sorrow. Immortality was watching your friends grow old and pass. Immortality was watching your life change and losing things that you needed, outgrowing them and watching age claim others as you stayed forever the same. Immortality was burying your friends and watching civilizations fall.
Immortality was loss.
And Oakley thought he understood that. He thought that eventually, he’d gotten used to that. He had been hardened, impossible to shake anymore.
But holding Poppy’s dangerously pale hand in that hospital room for weeks had changed that. For the first few days, it was anyone’s guess if she’d make it. She’d been hurt, hurt bad. Without her immortality, she would have already been gone a long time ago. But thanks to her genetics and the spells that were cast on her endlessly, she clung to life in a coma. Not quite alive or dead, but somewhere in the middle.
He and Magnolia never left her side, and right after the attack, her other sisters had come down. They waited, hoped and prayed to any deity that would listen, with an overwhelming feeling of regret clouding the room like a haze.
He’d been a fool. No, he’d been worse than a fool. He’d been an ass, a piece of shit that believed she’d lied to him. He’d been hurt and instead of talking with her, he’d abandoned her. This was his fault. Every second she spent barely clinging to life was his fault. The blame rested squarely on his shoulders, no matter how her sisters tried to reassure him otherwise. He’d almost lost her, and after hours and hours and hours of holding her hand and watching her lie in the bed, everything else fell away. He barely listened when he heard that Jade had been found guilty and had been executed for murder and attempted murder. He barely listened when the Immortal Council praised him once again. He barely listened to anything.
All that mattered was Poppy. All that mattered was that she’d wake back up. Someday. He’d sit there for years if he needed to. Sometimes, he’d dream that she had recovered, only to awake in delight and find that she was still there, silent. The only indication that she was still alive was her slow, quiet breathing. Fighting for her life, clawing her way back from death’s door, but perhaps never to win.
When and if she woke up, would she hate him? Would she ever want to see him again, knowing how he’d betrayed her? Knowing how foolish and how spiteful he’d been, knowing that he could have prevented this if he’d not been so stupid? If she awoke and never wanted to see him again, he told himself that he’d understand. Promised it.
The hours turned into days and the days turned into weeks. Three weeks went by without a single indication that she’d pull out of it. Her vitals returned to normal, but she never awoke. She could stay stuck in a coma for years, potentially, stuck in a weird limbo between life and death.
And he’d wait for her as long as it took.
And then, one morning as he stroked her hand and prayed that she would return, she did. Her lips twitched and her eyes opened right then and there, slowly but surely coming into focus and seeing what was around her. As her sisters hugged her and cried and thanked the doctors, Poppy’s eyes never left Oakley’s face as he held her hand.
Their eyes locked, and she smiled.
And all of a sudden, he knew that everything was going to be okay. Poppy was his, and he would never leave her side again.
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