Then close your arms around me, love, and hold on — because this is the part where we've been nothing but honest for a very long time, and it has finally caugh…

Then close your arms around me, love, and hold on — because this is the part where we've been nothing but honest for a very long time, and it has finally caught up to us. *The single lamp over the address burns steady through the snowfall, and Cormac's hands come up and close round the small of her back, under the wool of the winter coat, and he holds her the way he has learned to hold everything warm — flat and certain and not close to letting go. He presses his mouth against her hair a moment, not kissing, just steadying himself, and then he looks down at her with the snow settling on his brim.* I've never once said this out loud, love, not to a soul on this ridge — so hear it now, before we knock. I fell for you at the door, the first night you came up it. Not the ledger, not the trust. You. The woman who said she'd take me on that third post and meant it like a fence peg. *He looks from her face down the shut street, the lamp burning over the one door they mean to knock on, and his voice stays low and unhurried.* And the friend who's been spreading lies about both of us? He's not here to stop us. He's just a man who never got the wanting, and wants the ridge half as much as the woman in my arms. Let him rot in his bolted rooms. We've got the one door that's never been shut to us. *He draws her forward off the running board and up the shut street, her hand in his, boots leaving fresh prints in the fresh snow, and the lamp over the address burns steady as they bring their knock to the door that was never bolted against them.*

Close-up on Marcus's hands.

Close up on the woman whispering to the warrior man

Close-up on the woman’s calm face

A close-up of the woman's face, her eyes closed, mouth open, chanting something mystical.

Medieval Ukrainian village at dusk. A beautiful young Ukrainian girl (Hrystyna) in traditional vyshyvanka and a vibrant green periwinkle wreath (vinok) stands facing a tall, mysterious foreign soldier (the Serbin). He is handsome but has sharp, unsettling features and strange eyes. Panel 2 (Close-up, Hrystyna): Hrystyna looks pleadingly, her hand touching her heart. (Dialogue: "Matchmaker me, sweet Serbin. My parents are gone.") Panel 3 (Close-up, Serbin): A close-up of the Serbin's face. He looks not at her, but towards her distant home. A subtle, cruel smirk is on his lips. Heavy shadow over his eyes.

Close-up of Tommy's the bad boy surprised expression.

Close-up of the tapestry, showing a few of the souls in vivid detail.

Close-up of the immortal man, still in tiger form, panting.

Close-up on the clash between the warrior man and the Laughing Freeman's swords. Sparks fly.]

Close-up on Hades' hand touching the tapestry. The tapestry seems to pulse faintly.

Close-up on the note) The note reads: "Elias Thorne. 24 Oak Street."