Epilogue

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It was the hardest decision I ever had to make. Ultimately, I chose to conceal myself from those who thought I was deceased. Jeff Vittorio had made a promise, and if he thought I was dead, and the Ladies and the Soul Stalker thought I was dead, hopefully my angels would be safe. That was the only form of protection I could safely offer them. My mission was to find Zola, restore the minds to those who had been altered, and return the light to the angels who'd been turned to Shadows. I could save them—I would save them. Light, Shadow, or Soul Stalker wouldn't stop me now. With their precious Illuminator out of the way, and Gabriella in full force, I would solve this mystery. It was what I did best.

It had been one week since I died. My body had been shipped to Oregon—shocking news to someone who died in Italy and rose from the dead on another continent—and now, through the cover of the morning shadows, I arrived at my burial site.

Anyone would be curious, I told myself.

Oregon had never looked so beautiful. As the sun rose, the fall colors were bright on the line of trees hovering on the border of the cemetery. Everything looked on fire. I watched as my grave was dug, and the tent was set up. And I watched as flower wreaths were placed around the hole my casket would soon descend to; the same casket that would be empty of one, Gabriella. I wondered how the morgue explained my missing body, or if they explained it at all.

As the hours ticked on, a small crowd gathered under the tent.

"Invisible," I whispered. The air around me shimmered and stilled.

As each day passed, my power flourished and multiplied. There was something different with the electricity zinging through me, like my death had changed part of me. Invisibility was one of the new tricks I'd learned from watching Ehno and Lucia. I'd been told several times before that I was powerful—special—but never in my wildest dreams did I believe I would possess abilities of this magnitude. But even I had limits—I felt drained after holding myself in a covert, concealed charm for too long. I didn't mind, really; it wasn't every day one had the opportunity to attend one's own funeral.

As I hovered dangerously close to my grave, I was surprised by the amount of people who had come to say their final goodbyes. Before the angels, I had practically drawn into myself and had effectively become a recluse in the past year—no one else had been around to love me besides my family. There was Adam, but we saw how embarrassingly that had ended.

My father and mother, dressed in all black, held on to each other. I guess I should count my blessings that I have—had—two sets of parents who loved me. To think I'd never be able to hug them again...it broke my heart. They were so grief stricken, and I could easily reveal myself. But I couldn't—it would be too dangerous. Not just for them, but for all the angels. I knew too many secrets, and my life was best spent dead. I couldn't risk being protected by those who would die doing so. I had come to one conclusion while I waited for my funeral: it would not be the Shadows I would destroy; it would be the Ladies of Light and the Soul Stalker. When I Illuminated the Shadows, I would not deliver death—I would deliver life, light. The only problem was that every angel's mind had been altered, their perception changed. I needed to return to Abelie's. The Timeless book was still there, and I knew it would lead me to the Prophetess. She had answers, and all I had to do was find her.

Jenna walked up to the podium to speak. Her face was tear-stained, and her nose was red from wiping it. My heart gave a horrible, wrenching jolt. What made the whole scene even worse was little Jules, holding several white roses in her tiny palms. She was a doll in her black dress. She stood next to the silver casket as her tiny tears dripped down her tiny cheeks. I broke apart. I cried, not for my death, but for my family. I knew what it was like to lose someone you truly loved.

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