Author's Note/Closing Remarks: Thanks to everyone who started reading this story at Chapter 1 and is still reading it now. I always say that I would write if there was no one to read it, but to know that I have readers makes the whole experience so much more fun. I appreciate every visitor and hit I have ever gotten, so thank you all. Please sign up for an author alert if you haven't already, because I can't tell you what I write next, only that I should have another story in the works before Christmas. AS ALWAYS: Thanks for reading, enjoy this chapter, and please review!

Epilogue

Heaven was everything Stephen ever expected of it, and more. Everything was white, the sort of bright white that hurt your eyes. The Angel was there, sitting on his throne with the archangels Michael and Gabriel on either side of him. Stephen was standing near them, not in any pain. It was true what the books said about death: how man left his earthly body behind and took his soul to heaven to live there for all of eternity. The stories were true after all.

Stephen was just getting used to the fact that there was life after death when Celine walked through a doorway, dressed in white. He didn't ask her why she was there, or even what happened on Earth, because none of that mattered anymore. Celine didn't speak; she just took Stephen's hand and kissed his lips. So many times he kissed her because he had to, not because he wanted to. This time, he kissed her because they were finally in the same place at the same time. Then, hand in hand, they walked into Heaven.

To Amatis's amazement, it was Marcus who came to deliver the news of Stephen and Celine's deaths. When he appeared on her doorstep, she didn't scream and cry the way she had when Valentine delivered the news of Luke's death. In the back of her mind, Amatis always knew that Stephen's days were numbered, and it seemed as though Marcus felt the same.

The funeral was held the following morning, first down in the Silent City, where Stephen's body was burned, then up in the necropolis, where his ashes were interred in the Herondale mausoleum along with the body of his still eight months pregnant wife. Marcus had told Amatis that Celine had killed herself upon hearing the news of Stephen's death, though Amatis didn't believe that, the same way she didn't believe Stephen died at the hands of a vampire the way Valentine reported. Celine wouldn't have killed herself, not while she was pregnant with Stephen's son. All the same, Stephen and Celine and their child were dead, the same way Luke and Isaiah were. So many people had died for Valentine, and there were many more deaths to come.

The funeral was small- only Marcus and Imogen attended, along with Amatis. Imogen had requested Amatis's presence at the funeral, and told her that she was the only person who truly loved Stephen the right way.

Amatis attended the funeral in search of closure. Even knowing that Stephen was gone and watching his body burn still didn't make it seem real. After he had left her, Amatis waited months for him to return, never believing all of the things he said in the Silent City the morning of their divorce. She felt like she and Stephen had only misplaced one another, and sooner or later, Amatis would walk around a corner to find him leaning against the wall, looking less like a man and more like an over grown boy, right where she left him. He couldn't really be gone.

It was early afternoon, following the funeral when Amatis finally returned to the tiny canal house she had shared with Stephen. Imogen had given Amatis a silver box decorated with birds in flight, along with the name "Herondale." Amatis sat at the kitchen table and opened the box to find Stephen's hunting dagger, adorned with his initials, several love letters from their Academy days, and a Herondale family tree going all the way back to one William Francis Herondale Jr.

There was also a journal. When Amatis opened it, she found all of the pages covered with Stephen's writing. Every entry had a date and every entry was addressed to her. Amatis turned to the first page and her eyes filled with tears as she began to read.

17th of February
Dear Amatis,
I was wrong.

Amatis looked out of the kitchen window into the streets of Alicante. She knew that someday, someone might come looking for Stephen's memory, and it would be her duty to tell them what sort of man he was. Stephen had been far from perfect, but he did his best, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

The End