While the journey to her prison room had ended far too quickly, the trip to Sedgewick's seemed to stretch on forever.

Hobrin gripped Feyla's arm as he led her down the hall. Her stomach twisted like a rung-out piece of laundry. The hall lingered on and on, making Feyla think that they must be under one of the neighboring buildings now instead of House Sunspirit. Or at least it felt that way.

Sedgewick, she thought, his name echoing in her head like a mantra. He'd seemed so broken earlier, but maybe now he'd had a chance to regroup and rethink. The man was probably halfway through devising an escape attempt. If Feyla could just get to him then she knew everything would work itself out.

It had to.

No sooner had the click of the lock sounded then Feyla had pushed past Hobrin and fled into the room. She caught sight of Sedgewick and a cry left her lips. Feyla flung herself at him, wrapping her still-bound wrists around his neck as she fell to the ground beside him. Wasting no time, she pulled him to her mouth, a whimper of relief escaping her before she kissed him. She pressed her lips against his firmly, eager to assure herself that he was whole and real and alive. Seconds passed. Feyla waited for Sedgewick to wrap his arms around her and return her kiss before reassuring her that everything would be okay.

Except he never did.

Feyla broke away, huffing out the breath she'd been hoping he'd steal from her lungs. "Are you— No, that's a stupid question. Of course you're not okay. But you will be because we're together and we're going to figure this out just like we always do. All right?"

Sedgewick stared at her blankly and pulled her hands off his neck. He began unknotting them silently.

"Oh, good idea! Hobrin let me see you, but I can't stay forever so you untie me and then once I leave—"

"No."

Feyla blinked at him in the dim light, her lips parted in confusion. "Okay, did you have a better idea? Maybe we could—"

Sedgewick wrapped the rope back around her wrists and knotted it tighter than before. "Leave me. Don't cause trouble. Don't look back once they've let you go."

He released her hands. Feyla shot out and grabbed him by the shirt. "Stop it, you understand? We don't have time for your silly protective streak. Save it for when my mother's visiting." She let go and sat up straight. "Now, what's the plan?"

"There isn't one."

Sedgewick kept his eyes on a stain on the wall, unable to bear the disappointment that would doubtlessly be on her face.

"I— I don't understand. Is Crayden letting us go? Did someone who can help us pay him off?"

Sedgewick chuckled darkly. "No, Miss Everbloom. I'm afraid we are utterly alone. There isn't a soul in the world who would do something like that for me."

Feyla's breathing grew shallow as she stared at him, frowning in confusion. "But then why—"

"Because there is nothing left for us to do!" Sedgewick shouted. His body tensed before going limp like a strap that had snapped after being pulled too far. Feyla reached out and touched his chest with her still-bound hands. A realization struck him. Sedgewick didn't want her comfort; he wanted her to leave. To leave and run far, far away, taking the mocking ghost of a future that would never be his with her. He turned back to tell her so. Tears had gathered in her eyes.

"But you're Sedgewick. You always have a plan," Feyla said, finishing with a choked whisper.

"Tellwick," he muttered, years of painful memories flooding back the moment he whispered the name.

"What— what are you saying?" Feyla asked, clenching her tied hands into fists while frustration punctured her tears.

"That is my birth— My real name." He finally met her gaze. "I changed it before I moved to Abreyla. I'd just finished my apprenticeship and thought that with my magic..." Sedgewick paused, no longer seeing Feyla as he lost himself in the memory of a young man still naive enough to think he could change his lot in life. A slow, throbbing pain began building inside Sedgewick's chest, pounding away at the empty numbness he'd clung to since Crayden had put him in here.

"With my magic... I could become more than that name. Remake myself into someone of value. Someone worthy. Someone worth wanting," he finished with a whisper. His eyes glazed over and the room seemed to fade away. Every failure, every success, every spell reflected back at him as if he was gazing into a mirror showing his past.

"I was wrong," he whispered like speaking a near-sacred truth, eyes now as wide as a full moon.

"Don't say things like that!" Feyla ordered, reaching out to him again.

Sedgewick pushed her aside, staggering to his feet like a drunken man. "I was wrong," he insisted, clamping onto the phrase like a starving animal would a bone. The ache inside him pounded stronger and stronger, beating to the time of a word he should have known he'd never escape.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

Feyla opened her mouth to continue her protests but he cut her off.

"Don't. Don't even try. I know better now."

"You're wrong," Feyla said, her voice quivering while she scrambled off the dusty wooden floor.

"Enough of your lies! I don't want your pity," Sedgewick sneered, spitting the final word out. Feyla stared at him, her face heartbroken and horrified, as if he'd gutted himself and let his innards spill out at her feet. He might have paused if the pain inside hadn't finally broken through the comforting fortress of numbness. Rage, loathing, and bitterness crashed against one another, leaving him raw; exposed and bleeding like a wound that had never truly healed.

"I was born useless and unwanted. I spent my whole life trying to change that. Magic was the only thing that ever came close to working. If not for my magic, I would have lived out my days among a people who gave me nothing but rejection and ridicule. If not for my magic, I would have died forgotten and starving on the streets of this country. If I wasn't a mage, then the first woman I ever loved wouldn't have even glanced my direction! Magic is the one thing that made me feel valued and worthy. And now, I have lost my last chance at ever. Getting. It. BACK!"

Sedgewick swallowed hard, clenching and unclenching his fists. His final shout had sucked away the burst of anger fueling him. Leaning against the wall, he slumped back to the floor and held his head in his hands, feeling shaky and broken. "My brother was right. I am going to die exactly the same as I was born. Worthless and unwanted."

"No."

Feyla knelt beside him and took one of his hands in her own. He kept it limp, unable to muster the energy to jerk it away.

"That's not true," she said firmly.

"Lying is unbecoming, Miss Everbloom. I'm just accepting the way things are.

"Don't throw my words back at me! And I hate it when you call me that," she muttered.

"Leave me, Miss Ever—"

"Stop it! Stop all of this, you understand?" Feyla said, squeezing his hand, her voice cracking. She sucked in a shuddering breath and turned away, tears gathering in her eyes. "Can't you see it?"

"What are you seeing?" he asked tiredly, leaning his head against the wall.

Feyla stilled. Sedgewick watched as her dark teal eyes widened in shock and her hands slipped away. "You actually believe that. You actually think all those terrible— Sedgewick, not having magic doesn't mean you're without worth and value!"

Sedgewick chuckled, dark and mirthless. "You're a healer. It's your job to spew philosophical rubbish about the value of my life." His sardonic smirk faded. "I don't expect someone like yourself to understand."

Feyla was silent. Sedgewick stared at his now-empty hand, waiting for the full, unfixable grasp of his failure to hit her. Waiting for her to leave him.

"You're wrong," she said softly.

Warm fingers wrapped back around his hand. Sedgewick stared into her damp, beautiful eyes. Gates, would he miss those.

"I'm not a healer. I... failed and there is nothing I can do to fix that."

"But that wasn't your fault," he murmured, unable to tear himself away.

"And you think this is yours?" she asked incredulously. Feyla's jaw clenched and her stare grew harder. "It's not. Sedgewick, I've struggled with so much guilt and regret over this. I felt so—"She bit her lip and lowered her head, hiding her tear-filled eyes from him. "Lost and alone and I grappled constantly with asking myself, 'If I'm not Feyla the healer then who am I?'" Feyla looked back at him, smiling through her tears. "Do you remember what you told me?"

Sedgewick shook his head no, his breathing shallow and his skin hot.

Feyla leaned in closer and kept her voice low. "You told me that I was Feyla. Everbloom. And nothing either here or in hellgates would ever change that." She stared at him, fire in her voice and a light in her eyes. Letting go of his hand, Feyla pushed his glasses up his nose. "So now I'm going to tell you something. You are Sedgewick Alverdyne. And nothing, no curses, no mages, no sorceresses, no ministries, no forgotten childhood names, will ever change that."

Feyla's words ignited a spark in his dead eyes. Sedgewick soaked in her nearness, only to realize how dangerously close he was to falling under the spell of her hope-filled gaze. No. Feyla was wrong. He might be Sedgewick but he still wasn't worth anything. Especially not to Feyla. "That's different."

Feyla clenched her jaw, a strand of her golden hair brushing her cheek. "How?"

Sedgewick couldn't take it. He'd been too numb to enjoy her kiss earlier but if he was a dead man then he might as well snatch a comforting touch while he still could. He cupped her face and stared at it longingly. Feyla's breath hitched as he traced his thumbs along the curve of her jaw before brushing them across the sensitive edges of her pointed ears.

She leaned closer and her eyes briefly fluttered closed before snapping open when he pulled his hands away. "Everyone loves you, Feyla. Gates, I tried fighting it but still fell. You are far more than a healer's cloak. I've never been anything but a mage."

"But that's not true! Sedgewick, don't you understand? Your worth as a person is not based on your abilities!"

"Isn't it?" he asked, sinking back into his dark thoughts.

"NO!" she cried. "You are so much more than just some stupid mage! You're smart and funny. Handsome and protective." She hiccupped out a sob, tears no longer held back. "You're adorable and so sweet and devoted. When you believe in something, no one fights harder. Don't you remember how you saved us from Bilara? You don't need magic!" she shouted, an iron conviction in her voice. "And this—" she thrust her hands at his defeated form, the fight in him once again dead. "Is scary. Because my Sedgewick is dedicated and determined and almost stupidly stubborn. He doesn't give up. And I need him. I need you," Feyla pleaded, burying her face in his neck and clinging as if he might be snatched away at any moment. "If you never cast another spell again, I won't care! That would never change anything. Because I don't need a mage; I need the man I love. Bring him back to me. Please."

Sedgewick froze. Another precipice stood before him while hundreds of thoughts wrestled for control. The emotions he'd been stifling crashed over him in a deluge, beleaguering him on every side. It was almost too much. Would be so much easier to push the broken woman aside and run from the fear of what she represented. He'd never imagined a life without his magic yet Feyla was saying she didn't care. Had never cared. The mere thought was almost too much.

Almost.

But not quite.

Sedgewick bolted to his feet, a new type of fire in his veins. This one lit by the hope that maybe there would be a place for him. One where he was wanted and loved despite everything. Sedgewick pulled Feyla up next to him, his hands cupping her wide-eyed face. "We're not going to die here. We're going to die in a little house seconds apart from each other centuries upon centuries from now."

Feyla's shock faded away into pure joy. "I think that's probably the most romantic thing you've ever said."

"Oh," Sedgewick said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "Is that all there is to it?"

She laughed. "Well, there is one thing that would make it better."

"Which is?"

Feyla held up her still-bound wrists. "Taking these ropes off me."

                                           ********************************************

Author's Note: *collapses* I am dead. Any more chapters with be written by my ghost. (Ghost writer, lol) Wow, I've had this scene in mind for months and it still kicked my butt. I seriously cried while writing this. Please let me know what you think because I'm really struggling with if I love this or hate it. Without a doubt, the hardest chapter I've ever written. I kept feeling like I wasn't doing these two justice... I have a song this time instead of a picture. Must have listened to it hundreds of times when visualizing this scene. It encapsulates how Feyla feels when talking to Sedgewick so perfectly. Thanks for your patience, everyone. We're in the final stretch now. I can see the ending peaking through.