At night, Mason Nightshade received the news of Aurelia’s death only then. That night, the snow was coming down hard, the air freezing cold. The car slicing through the darkness sped over a hundred miles an hour. How slippery was the road? Mason didn’t pay attention; his mind kept replaying that stark-white death notice, and the voice over the phone that tore into his heart:
"Are you Aurelia’s family? This afternoon at six, Aurelia was found in her hospital room..."
How could she! How could she just die like that! His blanched knuckles clamped around the steering wheel, something inside his chest seemed to tear apart inch by inch.
He rushed in, and on the damp and filthy floor he saw her, lying there utterly motionless, her face sallow and bruised, so thin there was nothing left of her but bones.
A heavy, pungent stench slammed into his heart with brutal force.
He staggered forward, feeble, and picked her up from the floor. She was so light in his arms it felt as if there was nothing there at all.
Lowering his head, he gazed at the woman’s haggard, emaciated face. In those deep eyes a storm of struggle still lingered.
Snowflakes fluttered down once more, the crescent moon hanging upon the willow branches.
Mason Nightshade leaned against the hood of his car, smoking. In the tangled shadows, his face was unfathomable, his tall frame casting a long, chill silhouette across the ground.
He tipped his head back to look at the night sky, so dark not a single star could be seen. Suddenly, a girl’s joyous, clinging voice echoed in his ears:
"Mason, Mason, let’s go look at the stars, okay? They say Q City’s night sky is especially beautiful. Do you have time next month? We can go to Q City, and then head north to see the aurora..."
Even now, he’d never accompanied her—to see the stars, to chase the northern lights.
Never gone to any place she wanted to go.
It struck him, only now, that ever since she’d been with him, she never seemed to do the things she truly loved. Her whole world had revolved around him, seeking only his favor.
A bitter smile crawled across Mason’s lips. His heart felt as if someone had gouged a bloody, empty cavity into it, so raw it had gone numb. The blood seemed to drain all at once from his veins; even the fingers holding his cigarette trembled slightly from the cold.
He’d always thought, once Balthazar Shaw was dead, it would all be over.
Always thought, as long as he didn’t see her, his heart wouldn’t ache so much, wouldn’t throb uncontrollably for her alone.
Give it a few more years, when time dulled these events, they could then...
He’d been too arrogant.
And so, so terribly wrong!
So wrong, he lost her—lost her very life because of it!
Mason Nightshade tilted his head back slightly, his jaw set rigidly tight, long fingers covering his face, knuckles white and trembling. A tear rolled from the corner of his eye, sliding down his resolute face.
"Aurelia... if there’s a next life, let me atone for my sins to you."