For a moment, Theo felt his world collapse — Ava's body was heavy in his arms, her pulse weak, her skin growing cold. But then… just when all seemed lost…
He pressed his fingertips against her neck, against that rich pulse — faint, faltering, but there.
"Ava… Ava… please… stay with me." Theo whispered, raw agony battling hope in his voice.
Ava remained unconscious — her lashes resting against her cheeks — but her pulse remained, a rich thread tying her soul to this world.
"It's not over." Theo said quietly, a rich vow made in the face of death. "I'm not losing you… not now… not ever."
Turning back toward Marco — and the soldiers closing in — Theo tightened his grip on Ava and stood taller, taller than he'd stood in years. His silhouette against the thunderous heavens seemed to illuminate in a rich, elemental light — a king reborn by love, by hope, by a future not yet finished.