The Reaver Chronicles: Raphael (Book 2)

I could tell you the exact moment my entire life took quite the turn for the worse. It was January 13th, 1840. She was 92 years old. Time seemed to stand still as I cradled her fragile form, the weight of years and memories settling upon me like a gentle mist. My fingers moved with a soothing slowness, tenderly combing through the now silver and gray curls that cascaded down her back like a river of moonlight. The softness of her hair, the delicate curve of her neck, and the faint scent of age and wisdom all blended together to create a sense of profound intimacy, a feeling of being connected to this precious, vulnerable soul in a way that transcended words. The delicate, glittering lines of the infinity symbol seemed to shimmer and dance beneath my fingertips as I traced their intricate path along her skin. The mark, with its dainty filigree and subtle sparkle, was a thing of beauty, yet it was also a potent reminder of the bond between us, its power physically inscribed upon her flesh for all to see. As my touch made contact with the symbol, her body's gentle shudder was a stark testament to the mark's power, even through all these years, and the deep, unbreakable connection it had forged between us all of those years ago. I knew it was getting close to the end. The weight of her impending departure from this world threatened to crush me. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, unable to accept the cruel fate that was about to tear us apart. As much as I wanted to deny it, she had been sick for a while now and refused to let me heal her. 72 years of love, laughter, and adventure together were about to be completely and pointlessly taken away. The worst part? I had the power to stop all of this… I contemplated using that power to change her anyway, right now, before the world took her from me forever… but I knew that would be a betrayal of her trust, a violation of her autonomy, and a negation of the very principles that had guided our relationship from the very start. The mere thought of existing in a world without her by my side was a bleak, desolate prospect, a future that stretched out before me like a barren, endless wasteland. My beautiful mate, my partner, my everything. The idea of being torn from her was a pain so intense, so all-consuming, that it threatened to shatter me into a thousand pieces. The anguish that swelled within me was almost suffocating, a heavy, crushing weight that pressed upon my heart. I had the power to change her into a Wolf, or a Vampire. I would have even changed her into a filthy damn Necromancer if she would have agreed. But I just couldn't bring myself to go against her wishes. This very conversation we have had many times before. It always ended with the same outcome. She didn’t want to live a cursed life. She was Human, and she planned to die Human. I had tried to talk her out of it more times than I could count. Silly Humans, they were such a strange species. I had agreed to her terms when I met her, and honestly, I thought she would change her mind as the years went on… but she never did. The vivid memory of her radiance shone brightly in my mind's eye, a warm, golden light that illuminated the very depths of my soul. Her brown, curly locks cascaded down her back like a rich, velvety waterfall, framing her heart-shaped face and accentuating the luminous, olive-toned skin that glowed with a soft, inner light. Her curves were a masterpiece of nature, a symphony of soft, rounded lines that seemed to invite my touch, my caress. And her eyes, those breathtaking, light brown eyes, shone like pools of liquid gold, filled with a deep, abiding wisdom, a spark of mischief, and a love that had been mine to cherish for so many precious years. She was, indeed, a treasure, a gem beyond price. She was the most amazing woman I had ever, in my lifetime, had the pleasure of knowing… let alone being mated to… by choice, of course. The soft rustling sound broke the spell of nostalgia that had held me entranced, and I turned my attention back to the present, to the precious, fragile form cradled in my arms. As I gazed down at her, I saw a faint flutter of her eyelids, a gentle stirring of her limbs, and my heart skipped a beat in response. I held my breath, hoping against hope that this was a sign of renewed strength, of a temporary reprieve from the inexorable march of time. But deep down, I knew better. Her choice, all those years ago, had been a turning point, a fork in the road that had led me away from darkness and toward the light. She'd saved me from the shadows that had haunted me, from the ghosts of my own making, and from the destructive paths I'd been wandering. And yet, she'd done it all without ever realizing the full extent of her rescue. “Thank you for giving me such a wonderful life. I will always love you.” She said softly as she stared deep into my silver eyes. Her gaze burned a hole straight into my soul. Along with it came soul crushing pain, the weight of a thousand sorrows had descended upon me, a suffocating blanket of anguish that pressed down upon my chest, making it hard to breathe. The finality of it all was a devastating blow, a crushing realization that this moment, this fleeting, fragile instant, was the culmination of everything we'd shared, everything we'd built, and everything we'd loved. The weight of that understanding settled upon me like a physical force, a suffocating pressure that threatened to crush me beneath its unyielding weight. I felt the ground beneath me giving way, the very foundations of my world crumbling into dust as I stared, helpless and horror-struck, into the abyss of what was to come: a future without her, a future without us. This was it, this was the last time I would ever hear her voice… the voice that had calmed my woes for years and years. I panicked, and just about changed her… I was so close, but when she closed her eyes, and exhaled her last breath, I knew I was too late. I had to stay strong, for her… but it felt as if my entire being was shattered, splintered into a million jagged fragments that threatened to tear me apart from the inside out. Axel, my Wolf, sensed my anguish and echoed it with his own mournful howls, his pain and distress resonating deep within my soul. But I knew I had to push him back, to silence his anguished cries and steel myself for what was to come. The call to the coroner was short and to the point. They were there within an hour to pick up her body and take it to the mortuary. She didn’t want a funeral, she didn’t want anything fancy. No big group of people mourning over her, or talking about how great she was. She never cared for any of that. “Cremate me and keep me with you always.” She used to say. I planned on it. The sterile, antiseptic atmosphere of the mortuary seemed to be closing in around me, suffocating me beneath its weight. The silver and black urn, a cold, unyielding vessel, felt like a leaden anchor in my hand, a constant reminder of the unbearable loss I'd suffered. The sunlight, normally a warm and comforting presence, now seemed harsh and unforgiving, its glinting rays dancing mockingly off the urn's surface like a cruel jest. My face, a mask of stone, hid the turmoil that raged within me, the anguish and grief that threatened to consume me whole. I was trapped in a living nightmare, unable to wake up, unable to escape the crushing weight of my sorrow. My voice, frozen in my throat, refused to emerge, leaving me silent, isolated, and alone in my pain. I materialized at home in front of the mantle, and had just enough time to set the urn down before the fragile threads of my composure finally snapped, unleashing a torrent of grief that had been building for what felt like an eternity. I crumpled to the floor, my body wracked with sobs, as the weight of my loss came crashing down around me. Tears streamed down my face in a relentless, scalding flood, as I mourned the passing of my beloved mate. Time lost all meaning as I lay there, shattered and broken, my heart torn asunder by the agony of my loss. The world around me receded, leaving only the crushing, overwhelming pain of my grief. The anguish that gripped me was a living, breathing entity, a relentless and merciless force that squeezed the air from my lungs and the life from my very soul. My heart, once whole and full of life, now lay shattered and broken, its fragments piercing me like shards of glass. Along with the crushing agony of my mate mark being shattered by her death, I had to deal with the soul crushing weight of knowing that she was gone… and she was never coming back. The thought of living without her, of facing a future devoid of her love, her laughter, and her light, was a prospect too terrible to contemplate. And yet, I was forced to confront it, to face the bleak, desolate landscape of a life without my mate. The air seemed to vanish from my lungs, leaving me gasping, struggling to draw breath as the weight of my anguish crushed me. And yet, even as I felt myself drowning in a sea of despair, I couldn't stop the tears from flowing, couldn't stem the tide of grief that threatened to consume me whole. All I could do was surrender to the pain, and let it wash over me, wave after wave, as I mourned the loss of my beloved mate. The devastation was absolute, a complete and utter annihilation of my very being. My heart, once a cohesive, beating entity, now lay in shattered, jagged fragments, each shard piercing me with a pain so intense, so overwhelming, that it defied comprehension. The pain was a living, breathing thing, a monster that had taken up residence within me, feeding on my very soul, growing stronger with each passing moment. I was lost, consumed, and destroyed by it. The weight of it all was heavy, so f*****g heavy. I, never, in a thousand years, imagined I could feel pain that was all encompassing like this. Time lost all meaning as I lay there, shattered and broken, my body and mind numb with grief. The world around me receded, fading into a distant, muffled haze, as I finally, and unwillingly, succumbed to the exhaustion that had been building. The sleep that forcefully claimed me was a mercy, a temporary reprieve from the agony that had become my reality. And for that, I was grateful. After I woke, I shoved the hurt and pain as far down into the empty cavity that was now my soul, and I swore I would never show outward emotion again. The urn remained on the mantle in the exact spot I left it before my breakdown.