Chapter Ten: The Farewell

The rain had softened by the time they reached the studio. A thin mist clung to the streetlamps, turning the asphalt outside into sheets of pale bronze. They entered the building and climbed to the third floor, the damp chill from their coats lingering in the still air. When Elias opened the door, the sound of laughter met him first—low, muted, like something half-swallowed out of habit.

Inside, the team had already gathered. Reina sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees, eyes flicking between security feeds. Marcus leaned near the window, a half-empty bottle of champagne dangling from his hand. Valerie was sprawled across a chair with her boots up, flicking through a playlist on her phone. Even Julian, who usually kept to himself, looked almost relaxed, rolling a glass of whiskey between his palms.

Naomi slipped past Elias, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood. The studio lights were low, golden, and tired—a tarnished brass glow that seemed to thicken the air. Elias closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, breathing in the strange quiet of victory. It didn’t feel like triumph. It felt like the aftertaste of adrenaline—sweet, metallic, almost empty.

Reina looked up, a smile tugging at her mouth. “About time. Thought you two were going to stay and dance.”

“Tempting,” Naomi said, unbuttoning her coat. “But I prefer champagne that doesn’t come with bodyguards.”

Marcus chuckled, raising his bottle. “To a clean exit—smooth, silent, and no one on our trail.”

“No one yet,” Reina corrected. She closed her laptop and stretched her shoulders. “The building went back online ten minutes after we left. Their system will flag the anomaly by morning. But by then, we’ll be gone.”

Elias crossed to the small kitchenette, poured himself water from a bottle, and drank half of it in one pull. His pulse hadn’t slowed entirely since the elevator doors closed behind them at the gala. Even here, surrounded by the people who had pulled this off, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was still unfinished.

Naomi had perched on the edge of the table, her dark wisps catching the warm spill of light. The others talked in low, controlled tones—logistics, routes, border timing—but Elias watched her. She looked calm, but he’d seen the flicker behind her composure when al-Rashid had spoken to her. She was still thinking about it, just like he was.

Reina’s voice cut through his thoughts. “We move after midnight. Marcus, Valerie, Julian—you take the van north, same as planned. I ride with Naomi and Elias. The boat’s waiting in Clayton. Samuel, sorry that we’re leaving this mess for you.”

Samuel raised his glass in salute. “No worries; I can handle it. You kids just try to stay safe.”

Elias set the bottle down. “Wait. I need to make a stop first.”

The room went quiet. Even the faint hum of Reina’s laptop seemed to still.

Naomi looked at him, curious. “Where?”

“Boston.” He hesitated, feeling the word catch in his throat. “There’s someone I have to say goodbye to.”

Marcus frowned. “You’re kidding, right? We don’t have time for a scenic route.”

“I’m not asking for time,” Elias said evenly. “Just a different road.”

Reina studied him, eyes narrowing behind her glasses. “Who?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. The truth felt heavy, like a stone he couldn’t name.

Before he could answer, Naomi spoke. “I’ll go with him.”

Every head turned toward her.

She met their stares without hesitation. “It’s safer if we split. If al-Rashid is looking for us, he’ll expect us together. Two routes, less pattern. The rest of you take the artifact and head for Clayton. We’ll meet you there by nightfall tomorrow.”

Reina considered this, resting a finger on the laptop lid. “You’ll take the second car, then. And Elias—” she pointed at him, “—I need to create you a new identity before you leave. Cameras will have your face by morning.”

He sighed. “You want me to pose for pictures now?”

“Just one.” She grabbed her phone. “Come with me. We need a neutral background.” She motioned for him to follow her. Elias followed her into a small room where a white curtain hung on one of the walls. “New passport, new you.”

The flash was harsh in the dim room. Elias blinked against it. Reina studied the image, nodding once. “Good. You’ll be ‘Adam Novo’ by sunrise.”

“Catchy,” Elias said drily.

He walked out of the room, searching for Naomi. She was already by the worktable, studying the tablet under a focused lamplight. It sat inside a temporary display case, its surface faintly dusted with gold reflections from the bulb. The script on it seemed to twist under the glass, impossible to read and yet disturbingly familiar.

Elias stepped closer. Something in his chest tightened—the kind of pressure that comes before lightning. For a moment, he thought he heard a low hum, a resonance that seemed to come from the stone itself.

Naomi noticed his expression. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “It reacts sometimes. You feel it?”

He nodded. “Feels like standing too close to a power line.”

She smiled gently and closed the case. “Then step back. You’ve done enough for one night.”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Exhausted,” she admitted. “But we can rest a few hours before we go. Midnight’s not far.”

He nodded again and turned away, lying down on the small couch near the window. The rain had stopped entirely now. Outside, the city shimmered like a wet pulse under sodium light. He stared at it until the edges of his vision blurred.

By the time they rolled out of New York City, it was just past one in the morning. The city receded in the mirrors—a smear of orange and glass. Naomi drove. Elias watched the skyline until it broke apart into the dark sprawl of the interstate.

The road stretched ahead like an empty artery. Streetlights flickered past in a rhythm too steady to notice until it vanished into forest. The drone of the tires filled the silence between them.

Naomi didn’t speak for a long time. When she finally did, her voice was softer than usual. “Tell me about your dream the other night.”

He hadn't thought about that dream yesterday; there was no time for it. But now, it all came back, still feeling too real. He hesitated, watching the faint glow of the dashboard trace her profile. “It was… strange. Different. It wasn't a battle anymore, no death. It was... peaceful. I was somewhere cold—somewhere northern, I think. The air smelled of brine and woodsmoke. There was a hearth, and embers glowing. I was with a woman named Sigrid.”

Her name lingered in the quiet of the car.

Naomi’s eyes stayed on the road. “Go on.”

“She gave me something. A silver ring. She said it was her mother's—a reminder that I was chosen, not cursed. She spoke of a Forgotten Order, and a shrine of stone called Stǫnr Hǫll, the Stone Hall, where the chosen could awaken what was buried inside them.” He paused. “It felt... real.”

Naomi was silent for a moment. Then she said, “The Order existed in many incarnations. Different centuries, different continents. Most never knew of each other. Some vanished, some changed names.”

He looked at her. “And the Stone Hall?”

She kept her eyes on the road, but her head tilted slightly. "That name... Stǫnr Hǫll..." she repeated, as if trying to place a half-remembered melody. "It doesn't appear in any of our records. Not the main archives, not even the fragmented ones." A spark of intense curiosity lit in her eyes. "I believe that you've uncovered a part of our history that we didn't know about."

Elias leaned his head against the seat, watching the dark line of forest slide by. “It felt like more than memory.”

“Maybe it was.” Her tone held something that felt like understanding to Elias.

They drove for a while without words. The outside world narrowed to the road, the soft thrum of the engine, the whisper of tires over asphalt. The air smelled faintly of pine and distant rain.

Naomi spoke again, quieter now. “You should try to sleep. I’ll wake you when we reach Boston.”

He wanted to protest, but exhaustion pulled at him like undertow. His arm throbbed from the tension of the last day, his mind still echoing with the hum of that artifact. He closed his eyes. The rhythm of the car lulled him, each rise and fall of the road like a slow heartbeat beneath them.

Naomi’s voice was the last thing he heard before drifting under. “Rest, Elias. You’ll need your strength for what’s coming.”

And then there was only darkness, and the faint sound of rain returning somewhere far behind them.

The iron gate gave a long, tired groan as Elias pushed it open. The hinges shuddered, then stilled, leaving only the faint hum of the city behind them.

Inside, the air seemed denser somehow—cool, still, threaded with the smell of rain-soaked grass and the faint sweetness of decaying leaves. The sky was paling—the hour when night loosens its grip but the world has not yet remembered the light.

Elias walked a few paces ahead, boots crunching softly. His coat brushed against the wet branches of a low hedge. Naomi followed in silence, her footsteps careful. There was no need for words. The place spoke for itself.

He knew every turn of this path. Even in half-light, his feet found it without thought. The oak tree at the crest rose dark against the horizon, its limbs skeletal and reaching. Beneath it lay the stone he’d come for.

When they reached it, he stopped.

The headstone was small and clean, its marble still unweathered, the soil around it too new, still uneven where the grass hadn’t yet regrown.

Seven weeks. That was all. Long enough for the world to keep moving—short enough that her presence still echoed through his days.

He stood there for a long time before crouching down. His knees sank slightly into the damp soil. He used to speak to the air, convinced she’d never heard a word—but something was different now.

“Hey,” he said quietly. The word felt fragile in the still air. “It’s me again.”

A raven called somewhere far off, the sound slicing the silence in two.

“I didn’t bring flowers today,” he said quietly. “No shops open at this hour.” He smiled faintly. “You always had that look whenever I brought some home—like you were amused I’d even tried.” The smile faded. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you next time.”

The wind stirred again, moving the grass in waves.

“You know,” he murmured, “I used to think that when you were gone, that was it. Just black. No echoes. No soul. I was sure of it. The soldier in me—he liked simple truths.” He paused, fingers brushing the cold marble. “But lately, I’m not so sure anymore.”

He swallowed, his throat tight. “I think you’d laugh at me for saying that. You’d tell me to sleep, to stop chasing ghosts. But I keep thinking—what if you were wrong too?”

He traced the engraved letters, feeling the tiny ridges of her name. The marble was cold, but beneath it he imagined warmth, imagined her hands, her voice, the weight of all those years that they spent together condensed into a heartbeat.

“You asked me to move on,” he said softly. “To keep living after you. Back then, I didn’t think I could. But something’s changed. I’ve changed. I want to believe there’s more to life than what the eyes can see.”

He paused,drawing a breath that felt both heavy and light. “I’m leaving for a while—maybe longer. I don’t know where this ends, but I can’t stay still anymore. The world’s moving again, and I have to move with it.”

“I think I’m finally ready to spread my wings,” he whispered.

A thin band of gold appeared at the edge of the sky. Light crept across the cemetery, touching the stones one by one until it reached hers. Dew ignited into a thousand sparks.

For a heartbeat, he thought he saw her standing there—nothing solid, just a suggestion in the way the light struck the air. The curve of a smile. The warmth of recognition. Then it was gone.

He exhaled, the tension leaving him like smoke. “Goodbye, Clara,” he said. “And thank you… for everything.”

He rose slowly. Naomi had moved closer now, her coat drawn tight around her. Her eyes followed his to the headstone.

“You must have loved her very much,” she said.

He nodded, unable to find the words at first. “I did—I still do. She was everything to me.”

“She’s not gone. Not really.” Naomi said with a voice that was gentle but held a note of absolute conviction. “A love like that doesn’t just leave the world.”

He looked at her, a ripple of surprise breaking through his reserve. “You sound certain.”

“I’ve seen enough to know the world doesn’t end where we think it does,” she said. “Come on. The sun’s up.”

He lingered one moment longer, then turned toward the gate. As they walked back to the car, the light spilled over the gravestones, gilding the frost into glittering glass. Elias felt something loosen in his chest—a knot that had been there, quietly untying.