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“You dare speak that name to me? He has no power here.”
Daring another step, I pushed. “Yes, he does, and I think deep down you know it. That’s your fear. That’s why the Whispering Grove bothers you. Your own fear threatens you there. But I’m still standing here, willing to make a bargain with you. A simple one. Release him, and I will tell you where she is.”
The severity on his face flickered to worry. He was weakening, and he knew it. The hope I’d planted on that stage was growing, as he did not return to them immediately to reignite the fear.
“Only Orin can send Cythronia Eiria’s soul to this realm now that you have no harbinger in Requiem, and only I can tell you where she is. For now. Unless she runs again.”
“She loves me,” he yelled. “She doesn’t run. She is lost and waiting for me to find her.”
“Oh. Is that what that is? I must’ve misunderstood her.”
Death’s eyes narrowed once more, but this time, when his power flickered, Orin dropped, his legs falling into the water as he screamed in agony. The Lake of Lost souls had captured him, and though half of him remained above the water, his very soul was being ripped from his body, inch by inch, ethereal hands clawing at him.
I broke. Screaming. All the strength and resolve I’d ever built against Death slipped away as everything turned ice cold. Watching Orin be taken from me, knowing the finality of that pit of water was like staring but not seeing. Speaking with no sound. As if Death’s bloodied whips had wrapped around my heart. I screamed again. For every lashing, every time he’d seared a name into my palm. Every time I’d taken a life, each second of his madness that poisoned my soul. Down and down, Orin fell. I didn’t want to see it, but I couldn’t look away when those golden eyes flashed to me. When a calmness fell over him as he accepted his fate.
“Live, Deyanira,” he managed. “Love another.”
“No!” I crawled, fucking crawled, on my hands and knees to the water’s edge, ready to plunge. My eternity would already be filled with longing without him anyway.
Death’s thick fingers gripped the back of my hair, ripping me away from the bank as he pulled his son from the water and dropped him unceremoniously to the ground, smothering him in so much darkness, I couldn’t see a limb, his face, or a slice of his clothing.
Orin’s father kneeled, sliding a finger across my neck, stopping where my heart pounded furiously. “Your scream was more perfect than I remembered. Thank you for your fear. He will be such a good tool to control you.”
Pure rage rattled beneath my skin. “The funny thing about me is, I’ve never done well with controlling assholes. Ask your son.”
With no hesitation, I launched myself at him, driving my fingers around his neck as he fell backward, skin searing beneath my palms just as he’d burned me over and over again. He laughed at first, until the first pulse of my power surged through him. And then it was there. Death’s own horror. Sweet, delicious fear. Pushing and digging deeper and deeper into the pit of my magic, a place I’d never bothered to explore, I dove, letting the power heal me as it took from him. I heaved everything I had at Death as he thrashed beneath me, fighting and swinging and shoving his shadows, trying and failing to knock me away. I felt them surge urgently into my body, searching for his darkness. But they were denied. Only light shone through. My light. Ro’s ultimate revenge.
He stared back at me, so much less of a being than he had been. He was still in there, though, not defeated. Not gone. Weakened. Just as I was. Bone-tired and drained of all power, I continued to reach for more. I needed more. But there was nothing.
I’d lost.
A hand slid over my shoulder. “You cannot remove Death, my love.”
Fingers still tight at his father’s throat, I peered up at Orin beyond my tears and anguish to see his eyes still so dark, his veins still black, though he spoke with his softest voice.
“Fight back, Orin. Fight back.”
“I am darkness,” he answered, falling to his knees beside me as his father gripped my wrists, shoving away the final remnants of light.
A slew of fresh tears fell as I tried to hold on, to pour from an empty well. “No. You are perfection, and you’re mine, not his. Fight back.”
Orin’s voice became so soft, so vulnerable, it eviscerated my heart. “Will you stay with me, my love? In the shadows?”
“And in the light and every shade between,” I whispered.
Death’s shadows pulsed, sending me flying backward, knocking the breath from me. “It’s over,” Orin said, calmly twisting his hand to reveal the slender curves of Chaos before plunging my blade into his father’s heart. “I accept my role as Death.”
Chapter 67
We stood hand in hand, staring down at the burned edges of the ground where his father had turned to ash. There was no fiery moment of passion between us, no celebration of victory. Only the daunting insecurity of what our future would look like now that Orin had become Death.
“I don’t blame him,” he said, “even if he was demented. If he loved her or thought he loved her half as much as I love you, I can’t. I would have hunted you to the end of the universe. I would search the worlds for you. And I would have burned it all down until you stood before me.”
“The difference is, this is real, and I will never run.”
He chuckled. The first hint of healing I could have hoped for. “But you did run.”
I leaned against him, yawning. “In my defense, you stabbed me.”
