Door of Bruises

We are all, for better or worse, doomed to love each other until death do us part. My heart belongs to Proserpina and St. Sebastian—even if he no longer wants it.  Even if she has left it behind to follow him. 

Delphine’s fled back home, and Becket’s holy calling is in peril. 

And now only Rebecca and I remain at Thornchapel to face the unknown.

The door is open. The door that shouldn’t exist; the door that people have died to close. I don’t feel like the lord of the manor.  I don’t feel like a king or a wild god. I am a friend and a boyfriend and a brother—and a failure at being all of these things. But the door doesn’t care about my guilt. It only cares about the sacrifice I’ll make to close it.

As the bruising dark of Samhain approaches, so does the fate of our circle, of Thornchapel and the village and the valley beyond it. And I must don the crown, because one thing is still true, even if I must face it alone.

Here at Thornchapel, the kings must go to the door.

Here at Thornchapel, all kings must die.