The vision disappeared.
Remesis was again kneeling at the grave, and her fingers still touched the cold stone. But now the stone did not feel cold. Now she felt warmth — the warmth of all the lives, all the deaths, and all the promises she had just witnessed.
Tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry..." Remesis whispered. "You had to go through so much, and I knew nothing... I'm sorry... I'm sorry for pushing you away all this time."
She pressed her forehead to the tombstone.
"I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for this. But I know one thing — in this life, I will stay. Not out of a sense of duty. Not out of fear. But because... because this time, I choose you."
Remesis rose from her knees and looked at the amber brooch pinned to her dress.
The amber glowed dully in the gray light of the northern day.
"Thank you," Remesis said, addressing those who were no longer there. "Thank you for showing me the truth... Thank you for revealing it to me."
Standing by the grave for a while longer, as tears continued to flow down her face, Remesis managed to calm herself and take a breath.
Now, finally, everything had fallen into place for her.
She turned and walked back towards the castle.
Remesis walked slowly, and each step was difficult — not from fatigue, but from realization. The very realization that had come to her too late.
I loved her, Remesis thought for the first time. I loved her all this time. I was just afraid to admit it to myself.
How long had she struggled with herself, convincing herself that her feelings for Asil were merely fear? And in this new life, nothing more than gratitude for salvation, shelter, and protection.
But now, after the amber brooch had revealed the truth to her — about past lives, about how Asil repeatedly lost, suffered, died, yet always, unchangingly, loved her — Remesis understood.
It had always been love.
She had simply been afraid to call it by its true name.
Forgive me, she mentally addressed the one who was no longer there. Forgive me for not telling you while you were alive. Forgive me for you dying thinking I wanted to leave. Forgive me for being so blind, so stupid, and so cowardly...
Tears again flowed down her cheeks, but Remesis did not wipe them away. She let them flow — as a tribute to memory, as repentance, and as a promise.
I love you, Asil, she said mentally for the last time, standing at the gates of the necropolis. I love you, and I will remember that always. Even when you cannot hear me.
***
Returning to the castle, Remesis did not go to her chambers.
She headed to her study.
The divorce documents lay on her desk — Boris, true to his duty, had moved them there so Remesis could sign them at any time.
She took the parchment in her hands.
The top sheet — the very one where Asil had left her signature. Remesis looked at it intently and clutched it.
"You signed this because you wanted me to be happy..." Remesis said quietly, looking at the familiar handwriting. "You thought I would be better off without you. That freedom was what I needed. But... that was a mistake."
She clenched the parchment in her fingers.
"This 'freedom' is not what I need at all. I realized it too late. But better late than never."
And she tore the documents.
The parchment crackled pitifully, splitting into pieces. Remesis tore it with a kind of ferocity, putting into the motion all her pain, all her regrets, all her love that she could no longer give to the one for whom it was intended.
Shreds of paper fell to the floor.
"I will not leave," Remesis said, looking at them. "I will stay. Not out of a sense of duty. Not out of fear. But because this is my home. Because our child should know who their mother was. Because... because I love her. Even now. I love her, and I will protect what she built."
Remesis raised her head and closed her eyes. It seemed to her that when she closed her eyes, she could see Asil's face. And her always serene smile on her face, which was the same as ever.
"I will do this for you," Remesis whispered. "For us. And... for our child."
Three days later, Remesis headed to the Great Hall, where the vassals were again waiting for her.
They rose when she entered.
Seven pairs of eyes — curious, wary, hostile — stared at her.
"Princess," began the red-bearded vassal, "have you made a decision? Whom will you choose?"
Remesis approached the empty throne — Asil's chair — and, without asking permission, sat in it.
A surprised whisper rippled through the hall.
"My decision," she said, and her voice rang through the entire hall — clear, firm, without a shadow of doubt, "is as follows. I will not choose a successor from among you."
The vassals exchanged glances. The red-bearded one frowned.
"But the Lord's will..."
"I know what the will says," Remesis interrupted him. "I have read it. And I respect the deceased's wishes. But I also know that Her Highness trusted me. Therefore, I have made my decision and chosen..."
She swept her gaze over those present.
"...I have chosen myself."
The silence became absolute.
"You cannot," said the gray-haired vassal first, rising from his seat. "You are a southerner. You have no right whatsoever...!"
"I have the right because the Lord gave me that right," Remesis answered firmly. "Because I carry her child under my heart — her heir. Because I was her wife, and I remain her wife. This marriage will not be dissolved."
She pulled the shreds of torn parchment from her dress pocket — the very same ones she had gathered from the study floor — and threw them onto the table.
"I have torn up the divorce documents. I am staying in the North. And I will rule these lands as the new Duchess. You can accept this or leave. But remember: the Lord entrusted her home to me. And I will not let anyone destroy what she built."
The vassals were silent.
The red-bearded one clenched his fists. The gray-haired one shook his head. The youngest of them, suddenly smiled — almost imperceptibly, but Remesis noticed.
"I have heard that the lady of the northern castle has character," he said, rising and bowing his head. "I accept your decision, Your Highness. The North needs a strong ruler. And if you are ready to become one — I am with you."
One by one, the vassals began to bow their heads. Not all — two remained standing with stony faces, saying nothing. But the majority accepted her decision.
Remesis sat on Asil's throne, gripping the armrests with white-knuckled fingers, and felt something new rising inside her. Not fear. Not despair. But strength.
The strength that love gives.
Even having left this world, Asil was still protecting her. Inspiring her. Leading her.
I will not let you down, Remesis promised mentally. I will make the North what you wanted it to be. I will raise our child. I will preserve your memory. I swear.
***
Six months later
The North greeted spring with unexpected warmth.
The snow that seemed to have lain on these lands since time immemorial began to melt. The first streams trickled over the castle stones, and in the garden, which no one had tended for many years, flowers suddenly bloomed — small, pale, but alive.
Remesis stood by the window in her chambers and watched this miracle.
Her belly was heavy — the ninth month of pregnancy was not easy. Her back ached, her feet swelled, and at night the child kicked her from inside, keeping her awake.
But she did not complain.
Every kick of the tiny feet reminded her: life continues. Despite all the deaths. Despite all the pain. Despite everything that had happened.
"Your Highness," Julia, her faithful maid, entered the room with a tray on which herbal tea was steaming. "Physician Gregor said you need more rest. You shouldn't be standing on your feet for so long!"
"I am resting," Remesis smiled, not moving from the window. "The view outside is wonderful, isn't it? That is rest."
Julia sighed but did not argue. She put the tray on the table, straightened the blanket on the bed, and was about to leave when Remesis suddenly froze.
"Julia," she said, a strange note appearing in her voice, "call the physician. And the midwife. I think... I think it's starting."
"...R-really?!" The maid's mouth fell open in shock. "Your Highness, w-wait a moment, I'll be right there!"
Julia turned pale and immediately ran out of the room.
Remesis was left alone.
She moved away from the window and lay down on the bed, feeling her body gripped by a new, previously unfamiliar pain — the very pain women have endured since the beginning of time to bring new life into the world.
In the end, that day, it all happened.
The contractions lasted eighteen hours.
The labor was difficult — Physician Gregor later said he had seen nothing like it in thirty years of practice. Remesis screamed, cried, prayed — to every god she knew, and to those she had never heard of. She called for Asil. She even called for her mother, who had been dead for a long time.
Who would have thought that childbirth could truly be so difficult?
But fortunately, it did not last forever.
And at some point...
The first cry tore through the silence of the room as a baby girl came into the world.
Small, wrinkled, with a dark fuzz on her head and eyes that, within a few seconds, opened wide and looked at the world with surprise and curiosity. Her eyes were amethyst — exactly like her mother's.
"A girl," said the midwife, wrapping the infant in a clean cloth. "Healthy. She's crying — good lungs."
Remesis, exhausted, reached out her arms, and her daughter was placed on her chest.
"Hello," she whispered, looking into the familiar amethyst eyes. "I have waited so long for you."
But the labor did not end there.
Physician Gregor, who had been standing at the foot of the bed all this time, suddenly frowned.
"...Princess," he said, "don't relax. It seems... there is another one."
"What?!"
Remesis did not have time to be frightened — the second contraction came faster than the first, and within fifteen minutes, a baby boy was born.
He was quieter than his sister — he didn't cry, but rather whimpered, as if not wanting to disturb his mother with his crying. His hair was light — almost white — and his eyes were amber. It was not hard to guess which parent he resembled more.
"A boy," said the physician, and for the first time in many years, surprise sounded in his voice. "Twins. A girl and a boy. That happens once in a hundred births!"
Remesis looked at her children — at the girl with amethyst eyes, at the boy with amber eyes — and cried. Not from pain. Not from fatigue. But from happiness.
Such immense, all-consuming happiness that it would not fit in her chest.
This was the day Remesis Rania Ashelot became a mother, and her life changed forever once again.
She kissed both children — first the girl, then the boy — and held them to her, feeling the tiny hearts beating in unison with her own.
Outside the window, for the first time in many years, spring was blooming in the north.