I went home. No storm carried me. No flair, no chaos. Just a blink, and I was there. The realm was still. Too still. Arbor was silent, hiding in its bones as if even it could sense the weight pressing down on me. The house felt wrong. Too warm. Too waiting.
Her scent lingered in the pillows. Her book sat abandoned mid-chapter, pages bent where she'd left them. I didn't speak. I just walked to the center of the room and dropped to my knees. No magic. No storm. Just me. For the first time in my long, cursed life, I had no answer. Only rage. Only grief. Only the void where she should have been. A moment passed. Then another. I stood like a man drowning. Staggered through the house, opening doors, tearing through shadows, desperate for her ghost. Bathroom. Empty. Dressing room. Her white dress still hung there, the one she wore to Luxor's party. I ran my hands across it, half-expecting warmth. Half-expecting it to breathe and tell me she was close. Nothing. I ripped it down. Drawers. Cupboards. Behind curtains. I snapped my fingers, ripped open every hidden passage Arbor had ever made for me, searching like a lunatic for a version of her I'd somehow missed. Nothing.
Kitchen. Her mug still sat on the counter, cracked from when we fought and laughed. Coffee stained. I touched it like a relic. Garden. Library. Parlor. Every corner where she'd kissed me, mocked me, laughed until she couldn't breathe. Empty. Gone. I ended up back in the bedroom, chest heaving, eyes wild. My knees gave out. I collapsed at the foot of the bed, fingers clawing into the rug as if I could tear reality open. The sobs came. Violent. Animal. The kind that split divinity down the spine. Chaos poured off me in waves, shaking the walls with my grief.
"Annie—"
Her name tore my throat raw. I slammed my fist into the floor. Stone cratered under my hand.
"I should have known. I should have felt it."
I curled in on myself, trembling, breaking with every breath. She was gone. And it was my fault. I had smiled. I had danced. I had kissed someone else. While I laughed, she was taken.
"I left you." The words cracked out of me, venom aimed at myself. "You needed me, and I was gone."
Guilt poisoned me. Heavy. Slow. Certain. I slammed my forehead to the floor. "Stupid. Selfish. Arrogant."
The realm cracked with me. Arbor groaned under the weight of my breaking. "I promised I'd be better. I promised—"
The words collapsed into whispers. Too soft for a god. "You were the best thing that ever happened to me."
Silence. I pressed my face to the floor. Curled my fingers around nothing. "Please. Come back."
The house didn't answer. Her scent was already fading. The lights dimmed. The air thickened. Even Arbor didn't stir. I sobbed. Not like a god. Not like the Lord of Chaos. Like a man who'd lost everything. The sound that ripped from me wasn't a scream. It was something uglier, rawer. Her name fell from my mouth again and again, breaking more each time.
"Annie…"
I dug my nails into the stone until they split. "I'd trade it all," I whispered. "The tricks. The chaos. I'd burn it all for one more second."
No one answered. I rolled to my back, staring at the ceiling through red, stinging eyes. Waiting for the stars to scream with me. Nothing. I saw her everywhere. Her hand curling around a mug. Her laughter mocking my taste in books. The way she had started to believe I could be good. I could have been good. With her. But she was gone. I had let her go. Another sob broke me open. One arm flung over my eyes, the other reaching for nothing. I shattered. Not with thunder. Not with fire. But with silence. The kind that buries gods.
You lost her. You let her go. You were not enough. You never deserved her. You will never be happy.
And just as the grief began to swallow me whole—
There was a knock at the door.