I am not afraid

I won't burn out in this place

My intention is to fade and I will

- The Pretty Reckless

Shari Wainwright placed her jacket on the chair and poured herself a glass of wine.

"You go, Chief Davenport." Justin said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Shari laughed. "Samuel Tenner hasn't retired yet. I've only just been made deputy."

"Hey, it took some training... But someday." He replied, kissing her lips.

The sound of giggles erupted into the kitchen as four-year-old Sadie Wainwright and three-year-old Alec Davenport raced each other.

She had decided to name her daughter after her sister, to honour her memory and her love.

"They're growing fast. I feel like an old man." Scott said, grinning, appearing in the doorway with Gia by his side.

"You're getting there." Gia replied with a joking wink.

In the sun, 9-year-old Grace Davenport was immersed in a book, silent and concentrated. Not too far from her, Eddie, Shari's best friend from New York, bathed in the sunlight, his eyes closed in content.

A knock at the door signalled Lorelei's arrival. She was ageing fast now, but the woman was always a strong fighter, looking as furious and determined as ever.

"Aunt Lorelei!" Sadie and Alec cried in unison, racing towards Lorelei, who smiled pleasantly, opening her arms in welcome.

Shari smiled at the family she had built with her loved ones. After the end of the plague of spirits, Shari finally allowed herself to give in to happiness, letting herself fall in love with Justin and finally being able to live free without fear.

She trained and landed a job as a police officer, hoping to improve the lives of others and continue to protect Sachem Bay. Justin reopened the church, preaching messages of love, acceptance and hope.

They lived their lives through the doctrine of those lost every single day, each step a thought for them and each feeling a blessing for what they sacrificed.

As Shari stood at the patio doors, soaking in the rays in her backyard, something floated down and rested gently on her arm. Shari plucked it off and examined it. It was a stray of viola, individual violets strung together in a neat ensemble.

The roses are red

The demons are dead