85. Epilogue

Laura - Alive
The world is teeming with life and sensations I couldn’t see before. The air itself sizzles with electricity, and my skin tingles under the sun’s warmth. My heart is beating so fast that I can hear its thumping in my ears. Oh, how good it is to be alive.
But then again, what is death?
It’s a void, a nothingness, the absence of everything.
So even though death is the ultimate lack of all existence, isn’t it also a state where we are given a chance to start anew?
I’m not sure what I expected, but the reality is better than anything I could have imagined. Every day is a new adventure, and I love every minute of my life, full of laughter, hugs, and kisses.
I must admit, destiny has one hell of a way of playing tricks on a girl. When I was young and wanted to live, I died. When I was an abomination and wanted to die, I was born anew.
Sometimes, nothing goes the way you want it to, but not always what you want is what you get. And maybe it’s for the best.
I am free of my curse and won't ever miss being a strigoi.
After three full moon nights, I got accustomed to the voice of my she-wolf, as I like to call my residing wolf. She feels familiar even if she was dormant all these decades, as if she’s a part of me that should always have been here.
When I'm a wolf, and my senses are heightened, it feels good. Real good. I almost feel sorry for those who will never be able to experience such wonders as I am experiencing right now.
How do I feel? I’m simply happy. Everything around me seems real for the first time. The air inside my lungs, my skin heating under the sun, my heart beating in my chest. Everything is real and not just me glamouring myself.
Holding Paul’s hand in mine, I lead him onto the sand. The wind coming from the ocean is fresh and brisk, blowing the salted scent.
We stroll along the shoreline, occasionally stopping to admire the beauty around us. The waves are crashing against the shore, little by little erasing our footprints in the sand.
Right in front of us, at the end of this stretch of coastline, a colossal rock juts out from the sea, a pedestal for a white lighthouse. As we approach it, the sound of the waves becomes louder.
A large pile of rocks is placed right in front, forming a natural stairway leading straight to the lighthouse.
When we leave the beach and climb the rocky path, the wind grows stronger, and I tighten my jacket around my body.
Paul is wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, but his hand is warm. I smile at the thought that he has always been the hot one.
He doesn’t ask why I’m smiling; he just presses his fingers into the back of my hand. The wind whips around my face as I turn and tug him in for a kiss. We take our time and enjoy the moment. Nothing is rushing us. We’re finally on vacation on a little island on the coast of Portugal—the vacation Paul always wanted and planned so hard for.
As we get to the top of the cliff, I marvel at the sheer size of the structure. It looks like a small castle built on a massive stone base. The weathered white paint contrasts with the dark rocks, and the top is crowned by a large triangular white and red roof.
When we reach the lighthouse, we sit on the steps and watch the waves crashing against the rocks. The wind whips the water into foam, and the smell of brine becomes more pungent.
The light is fading as the sun sinks below the horizon. We can see its rays slanting across the sea, painting the water a deep red-orange.
It takes a full hour before I tear my eyes away from the ocean. Paul has been quiet since we got here as if he senses the need to just sit and be.
“I’ve brought you here because I wanted to show you what you mean to me,” I say, still holding his hand.
Paul shifts his attention to me. His eyes are bright and full of love. He smiles and leans in to kiss me.
Pressing a finger over his lips, I stop his lips from touching mine. “Let me tell you what I intended to say. If you kiss me again, I’ll never be able to get it out.”
He kisses the finger and chuckles. “Then, by all means, Laura, do tell.”
He leans back against the stone wall but keeps my hand trapped in his.
“Do you know what’s the purpose of a lighthouse?” I ask, staring into his eyes.
Paul nods. “It’s emitting a light beacon to guide ships through the dark or during stormy weather. This way, the crew can get to the safety of the shore without getting lost or shipwrecked.”
“Indeed,” I say, peering at the waves. “But what if the ship is too far away to see the light? What then? Does it sink into the depths of the sea? Or will the crew save the day by sheer luck?”
I pause and look at him, scanning his perfect face and his narrowing eyes. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he processes the metaphor.
“Paul, I was in a dark place, sifting through the wreckage of my life and hanging on a drifting ship, not knowing which way to paddle. And all of a sudden, I found you, my lighthouse. You guided me through the storm, and I reached the shore I never thought I’d see again.”
I lean on his shoulder, close my eyes, and breathe in his scent. Since I became a wolf, whenever he’s around, a flowery scent emerges from him. Maybe it’s the equivalent of the lilac one he smells on me. Tender and sweet, like a field of flowers blossoming in the spring, it reminds me of the warmth of his body.
“I’m sorry, Paul,” I continue. “I sensed you were the only one who could help me, but I never believed you could. I was too far gone to believe I could turn things around. But you were there, by my side, guiding me home even against my will.”
His hand gently caresses my hair, and I melt into his touch. He kisses the top of my head, making my heart flutter. I could stay like this forever, safe and warm in his arms.
With a slow stroke of his finger, he traces along my nape. My skin prickles as he runs over the spot where he marked me. The warmth seeping from his body turns into a fiery heat wave that ripples through my entire body, the mark—its epicenter.
“Laura,” his whisper adds to the quake in my core. “If I’m your lighthouse, then you are my beacon of hope.”