we are aching bones and wasted years; becca, mast, any

[magnus]

you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me

That moment when someone accepted an invitation to call your home their own was always intoxicating, and this moment was no different. Magnus’ smile widened a little, his gold-flecked eyes burning as he took another step to close the gap between them, breaking the barrier between them as he nudged her neck gently. “I am so glad to hear that.” He jerked his head toward the border of the meadow.

“Are you ready to see your new home?”

With that, he began to lead her toward Heaven. It was, thankfully, not a far walk. In fact, the Gates was one of the closest kingdoms to the Field—a fact that Magnus was grateful for every day that he made the trek toward the place of souls looking for homes. It would be infinitely more difficult to keep up a steady hand at recruiting if he was constantly spending the better part of his day on the traveling alone.

As they journeyed together, Magnus did his best to keep up a steady stream of conversation, pointing out small landmarks or telling her more about what to expect when she got there: the lush green, the sweet air, the shy wildlife. Even the place where the attack had struck them, where the Chamber had burned the Gates. Now only a year later, they were only beginning to regrow the vegetation that they had lost.

Still, the kingdom would carry the marks of the magical burning for years to come.

It is only when they come to the border of Heaven that Magnus falls silent, taking in a greedy gulp of air as he watches the afternoon light slant over the rolling hills and open, grassy fields. He exhales slowly, the peace of being here spreading throughout him as he turns his gaze toward her. “Welcome to Heaven.”

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.