Margo’s room struck Jack with its juxtaposition of simplicity and majesty. The space, sacred and luxurious without extravagance, showcased Demana craftsmanship. Light poured from an open ceiling, illuminating the piazza where the box rested—a serene focal point.
The box, perched on intricately carved stone blocks adorned with shimmering, ancient symbols, mirrored those etched throughout the sanctuary. It gleamed, untouched by time or journey.
The room imbued with reverence, felt like a culmination, every trial leading inexorably to this moment. Kleo, he knew, faced another profound transformation.
Kleo stood at the box, her hands absorbing its essence, her earlier trembling replaced by resolve. Maya whispered quiet consultations beside her. Dungr, a sentinel, guarded the door. Four Demana waited in the hall.
“Bring Rugr,” Kleo commanded, her voice steady. Dungr glanced at Lilith, who nodded.
“What of Thespis?” Lilith asked.
“Leave him,” Kleo replied. “He is not required.”
As they waited, Kleo began a soft chant, circling the box, her hands hovering above its surface. The air thickened, charged with energy.
Rugr arrived, and Kleo embraced him, a brief but emotional gesture.
“Are you ready, girl?” he asked.
“I am,” Kleo said, resolute.
“Then proceed.”
As Kleo began the unsealing, darkness crept in, siphoning the light. The box pulsed, its surface glowing like a heartbeat. Jack’s core quickened, syncing with the rhythm.
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Kleo moved with eerie precision, her hands forming angular shapes, her body guided by an unseen force. Chants and guttural tones poured from her mouth, resonating with the box’s symbols.
The energy reached a crescendo. With an explosive gesture, Kleo slammed her arms down. The darkness dissipated, and the box dissolved, its surface crumbling like ash blown away by an unseen wind.
Jack’s breath caught in his throat. If Kleo had not been standing beside him, he would have sworn she was lying there—Margo’s resemblance to her daughter was uncanny. Her body rested atop carved stones, her form serene, as though caught in a peaceful dream. Her cheeks were rosy, her breathing steady and calm. She looked as though she might awaken at any moment, untouched by the passage of time.
A small, strangled cry escaped Lilith, and Gaineth steadied her as she stumbled forward. The sight of their daughter, alive and whole, brought tears to their eyes. Lilith’s trembling hand reached out, brushing gently against Margo’s cheek. At her touch, Margo’s body stirred, her lips parting in a soft sigh. The movement was subtle but unmistakable—a sign of life.
Lilith let out a great sob, collapsing against Gaineth. “She’s alive,” Lilith whispered, her voice trembling with both awe and relief.
Kleo stood frozen, her hand covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face. Jack moved to her side, pulling her into his arms as she buried her face against his chest. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “We did it, Jack.”
“You did it,” Jack murmured, kissing her head. “You brought her home.”
Dungr stepped forward, his hand resting on Gaineth’s shoulder. “All right, everyone,” he said. “I’ll move Margo to her bed. The rest of us can step outside and give the family time alone.”
He lifted Margo and placed her on the bed.
The group moved to the piazza outside, where chairs were arranged in a circle beneath the open sky. The horizon stretched endlessly before them, painted in hues of gold and violet as the sun began its descent.
Lilith took Kleo’s hand, her gratitude shining through the tears still wet on her cheeks. “Thank you, granddaughter,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and relief.
Kleo nodded, unable to find the words to respond. Together, the group sat in silence, the weight of the moment settling over them. There was nothing left to say—only the quiet comfort of being together, knowing they had reached the end of one journey and the beginning of another.
The End
