deep breath. Her heart gave a single powerful beat, and as it did so Terry's life began to warm beneath her touch. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He would not reawaken for a few minutes, but she wanted him to know the truth. He would hear her where it counted. 'It was only a nightmare,' she said.
Lauren had been placed on the couch. The stake had been pulled from her body. How peaceful her face looked, Jennifer thought. How noble her life had been. Jennifer leaned over and kissed her sister goodbye. They would meet again. They always did.
Jennifer relit the candle and placed it on the coffee table amidst the shattered glass and the spilt wine. She stepped from the cabin and into the clearing beneath the moon and the stars, where Terry stood waiting for her. He started to speak, but she bade him be silent. From the clearing she commanded the flame of the candle in the cabin to magnify. They both watched as the flame grew, turning from orange to violet. Quickly the wax melted and the fire spread to the floor, and then to the walls, wrapping the entire cabin in a sheet of fire, all consuming, all cleansing. 'Another will come.'
There would be no others. During the brief moments Lauren had lived and held her hand, Jennifer had seen that Gary had made no decision to live forever. Therefore, he was not bound by the curse. He was incapable of making any more of the enemy. She would find him, and mend his soul and body. And if by chance another ship returned from Asure, she would be there. The enemy would be stopped. She was alive. She was powerful. If necessary, she would bring the fire.
Jennifer threw the crossbow into the flames. 'You're amazing,' Terry said. But then he turned away
from the fire, still grieving over Lauren. 'I can't watch this.'
Jennifer picked up the white rose again. She was reminded of the last time she had said goodbye to her children. It was far from dawn, but the flower had begun to bloom. It was beautiful. Perhaps not today, she thought, or tomorrow. But one day soon, in the next season, the entire world would blossom into a garden, and be beautiful, too.
She gave the flower to Terry.
'I will watch over you,' she said, taking his hand. 'Come, there is much to be done.'
They walked toward his car. They did not look back.
END.
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Christopher Pike, The Season of Passage
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