Several years passed.
In the North, where snowstorms once raged, threatening to bury every hope under the snow, order now reigned. Remesis Carter, Duchess of the North, widow of the fallen princess, the very woman once called a "coward" and a "traitor," ruled these lands with an iron fist.
She was no longer that frightened girl who trembled and ran away at the first encounter with danger.
Time had turned her into granite. Into ice. Into the northern wind that spares neither enemies nor friends.
But even granite has its cracks.
And every year, on the same day, Remesis left all her affairs and went to a place she allowed no one to accompany her to. To her wife's grave.
Remesis stood by the grave and looked at the gray stone on which was carved the name of the one she had once loved.
Asil Nara Ashelot.
She crouched down in front of the stone, as she had done thousands of times before. Remesis carefully placed the fresh flowers she had brought this time.
"Hello, Asil," she said quietly. "I have come again."
The wind swayed the tops of the trees.
Remesis sighed and sat down on the cold ground, not feeling the cold. She always did this. She sat beside the grave and told Asil everything. About the important things and about the smallest trifles. About what had happened over the past year.
Because Asil had no more other lives. No more reincarnations. No more endless cycle of death and rebirth.
Only this one. And Remesis wanted even the departed Asil to know everything.
"Everything is fine with us," she began, running her hand over the cold stone. "There is peace and order in the North now."
She smiled at her thoughts.
"They say Orion has grown into a worthy ruler. Do you remember him? He ascended the throne as a mere child. Everyone thought then that he wouldn't last long on the throne, and that sooner or later he would be overthrown... But that didn't happen. Many now recognize him as a far-sighted emperor with great promise."
Remesis was silent for a while, gazing at the snowy horizon.
"...Perhaps it's because Chancellor Ardelio is still his regent," she said. "After everything that happened, he still managed to clear his name and return to the palace... They say he returned to the palace to help the prince. And whatever one might say, although the man is detestable, he is clearly a good politician."
She shook her head.
"In any case, thanks in large part to his assistance, neutral relations between the North and the South have now been restored. Perhaps he has finally realized his past mistakes? I don't know... But in any case, I don't hold much of a grudge against him anymore."
Remesis took a small vial of wine from her cloak pocket — dark red, almost black. She took a sip herself, and poured the rest onto the snow by the stone.
"I know that when you were alive, you loved to drink. So I took care of it and brought you some today. You're grateful to me, aren't you?" she smirked.
Then her face became more serious.
"Michel, by the way, came to visit last year. You should have seen him... He has become a respected priest now. They say many even tout him as the next Holy Father. But I don't know. Is such a careless scoundrel as him fit for that position?"
Remesis chuckled.
"...But he too has changed a lot."
Remesis shifted her gaze to the stone.
"He came here for a couple of weeks when he was conducting a service at the northern temple. And... Our children simply adore him. Probably because he always brings them some sweets from the south."
She fell silent for a minute. The wind died down.
"Our children, by the way... are also growing up. Aslan and Rosanna have turned eight already this year. Can you believe it? Time flies too fast. Rosanna, whom I recently carried in my arms, is now learning to hold a sword. And Aslan... I think he resembles you more. He is kinder and more accommodating, and he prefers to keep many things to himself."
She paused.
"I wish... that you could also see our children growing up."
Remesis's voice trembled, but she quickly composed herself.
"I will never forget you, Asil," she said quietly, placing her palm on the cold stone. "Never. And I promise that our children will also remember you. They will be proud of their mother."
The wind howled again, but there was no more sadness in its howl. Only a promise.
***
More years passed.
The North flourished under the iron hand of the duchess, who never took off her mourning. She never remarried. Never sought solace in another's embrace.
Once, one of her confidants dared to ask: "Why?"
Remesis then answered shortly and coldly, like the northern blizzard itself:
"Because I was already married. And I do not intend to betray her memory, even after her death."
No one ever asked that question again.
In the end, that is how she lived her entire life.
And then that day came.
Dawn was breaking outside the window.
The gray northern sky gradually turned pink, filling with gold, and the first rays of the sun touched the castle's spires, the old walls, and the frozen ground.
Remesis Rania Ashelot lay in her bed. Around her stood her children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren. Someone was crying. Someone was simply silent, clenching their fists.
The old duchess looked calm. Even serene — for the first time in many decades.
In her right hand, she clutched the moonstone brooch — the very same one Asil had given her long ago. The silver had tarnished, the moonstone had faded, but the shape remained the same — a crescent moon receding into infinity. A symbol of eternity. A symbol of love that never ends.
The brooch glowed in the morning rays with a dull, almost ghostly silver.
"Mother..." whispered her son Aslan, kneeling by the bed.
Remesis looked at him. Her eyes, faded by time, still retained that very amethyst hue.
"Don't cry," she said quietly, almost soundlessly. "I am finally... going to her."
She didn't explain to whom, nor did she name that person. But everyone understood.
"Don't be sad about my death," Remesis said, her voice even, though every word came with difficulty. "I have lived a good life. A long one... Full of pain and joy. I regret nothing. Except one thing."
The duchess paused for a moment.
"I only regret that I didn't tell her 'I love you' sooner. That I wasted so much time on fear and doubt... That I didn't hold her one last time when I could."
She shifted her gaze to her children and grandchildren.
"Don't repeat my mistakes. Tell those you love that you love them. Now. Don't put it off. Because tomorrow may be too late."
Her daughter Rosanna sobbed, pressing her cheek to her mother's hand.
"...Mother, don't go," she whispered. "We still need you!"
"You no longer need me," Remesis said softly. "You have become strong and independent. Just as I wanted to raise you. I am proud of you. And I have always been proud."
She looked at the dawn outside the window — golden, majestic, promising a new day. A day in which she would no longer be.
"I love you all," she said. "Remember that."
Remesis closed her eyes.
At the very moment when the last ray of sun touched her face, she smiled. For the first time in many years — truly. Lightly and freely.
As if at that moment she saw someone she had been waiting for all her life.
As if Asil stood there, in that light, reaching out her hand to her.
"...You came," Remesis whispered in disbelief.
"I have always been here," Asil replied. "I have been waiting for you."
"I... I missed you so much."
"I know. Because I missed you too."
Asil stepped forward and took her hand — it was a warm, living, and real hand. As if for the first time in many years, Remesis truly felt her touch.
"Come," Asil said.
Remesis nodded and smiled. Tears of happiness welled in her eyes.
"Asil... I love you."
The words she should have spoken long, long ago.
"I know," Asil smirked. "Wife, I love you too."
Remesis stepped into the shining light — and the room behind her disappeared. The pain disappeared. The fatigue disappeared. Only love remained — so immense that it could fill an entire universe.