Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
The possibility hung between them like hope wrapped in razor wire. Delphine could join willingly, accepting transformation beyond human limitations. Or fight for control of forces reshaping reality around her existence, potentially saving individual consciousness while risking cosmic retribution.
Either choice required understanding exactly what she was and what power flowed through her bloodline.
“I need to go to her.”
“Move carefully. Entities capable of corrupting soul-binding across centuries won’t remain passive if their test case encounters complications.”
The Lacroix family chapel in 1763, where Charlotte knelt before the altar making peace with whatever divine forces might witness her transformation. She wore white silk that seemed to glow with inner light, her hair braided with flowers that would not wilt. Morning light through stained glass painted her in colors that belonged to another world.
“Are you ready?” Bastien asked, his nature recognizing the magnitude of what she was attempting.
“I've been ready since the moment I understood that love this deep deserves to survive any boundary the universe might impose.” She rose with fluid grace, moving to where ritual implements waited on marble that had been consecrated for purposes their creators never imagined. “Today we prove that some bonds are stronger than cosmic law.”
“And if we're wrong?”
“Then we fail magnificently, attempting something beautiful rather than accepting limitations imposed by forces that have never experienced what we share.” Her smile blazed with courage that could challenge heaven itself. “You won't lose me, Bastien. Not to death, not to time, not to any authority that views our connection as inconvenient to their design.”
The absolute certainty in her voice, the love that would rewrite reality rather than accept separation—faith that would either preserve them across eternity or destroy them both in the attempt.
The memory faded as he reached his office, but the emotional weight remained. Charlotte had known exactly what she risked developing soul-binding techniques. Her love had been informed, willing, dangerous as revolution against cosmic authority.
Delphine deserved the same opportunity for informed choice, even if truth destroyed any possibility of happiness between them.
The locket, now returned to the chain around his neck, pulsed against his chest with rhythm like countdown, like a heartbeat, a mechanism measuring time in lifetimes rather than minutes.
He would help Delphine understand her choices would determine not just her fate, but human consciousness itself. Tonight, he would prepare for conversation that would either forge them into something stronger than cosmic authority could break or destroy them both attempting to preserve individual souls against forces viewing them as obstacles to universal order.
Either way, they would face it together.
This time, love would not be separated by death, transformation, or systematic consciousness harvesting by entities whose understanding had never included the possibility that two souls could become more than the sum of individual parts.
The locket gave one final pulse, then settled into silence, its warmth a reminder of bonds that transcended death itself.
Whatever forces gathered around Delphine’s existence, one truth remained constant.
He would not lose her again.
Not to death.
Not to transformation.
Not to any authority seeking to harvest love for purposes it could never comprehend.
He would not fail.
Eight
Delphine moved through the Obscura Archive with new purpose, pulling boxes from storage areas that hadn’t been disturbed in decades. Her hair was twisted into a practical knot, sleeves rolled up for serious work.
“I want to understand Delia Moreau,” she said without preamble as Bastien entered. “Not genealogical connections—her personal writings. What she thought, if anything, about spiritual bonds.”
His throat constricted. Delia’s papers would contain references to their relationship, feelings harbored for a man Delphine knew nothing about.
Her fingers sorted through documents—letters in copperplate script, faded photographs, theater programs from performances long forgotten. Then she stopped, holding up an envelope that made his heart cease beating.
“Found this tucked inside a 1905 theater program. Never mailed, addressed only with ‘My Guardian Angel.’”
He recognized that handwriting instantly. Delia’s distinctive script, the same graceful penmanship that had signed birthday cards and left messages on his pillow during their brief, perfect months together.
“Expensive paper,” Delphine continued, examining the watermark. “Ivory stock with deckled edges. Whatever she wanted to say felt sacred to her.”
She waited for professional consultation, but Bastien could only stare at the envelope containing words written in Delia’s hand, addressed to the very being who sat beside her now.
“Do you mind if I read this?”
She was asking him to read Delia’s words aloud, to voice thoughts meant for his ears alone through lips that belonged to her reincarnated soul.
“Not at all,” he somehow managed to say without sounding strangled.
Delphine opened the envelope with archival care. Three pages in Delia’s familiar script. As she unfolded them, lavender scent rose from paper kept close to her person for over a century—the same perfume that had clung to her hair during quiet evenings in her parlor.
“Dated October 15th, 1906. Three weeks before the fire.” She studied the salutation. “‘My dearest guardian angel.’”