“You want forgiveness?” My voice cuts through the tempest. “You should have saved me the trouble and done this yourself. You’ve brought shame to your House, to your king… to yourself.”
His chin lifts, just enough for me to see his eyes. “I can’t fight this war anymore. I’m tired, Rook. Of the bloodshed. Of the screams. They haunt me.” His breath shudders. “Forgive me.”
I step closer, Death Singer angled toward the ground. The rain stings my cheeks like needles.
“I can’t give you forgiveness,” I tell him quietly. “But I can give you peace. From the voices. From the pain.”
He closes his eyes, lips parting in something between a prayer and a sob.
“Go well into the void, Blade.”
Death Singer sings once. The blade cleaves through rain and flesh alike. His head strikes the stone. His body topples over the railing, vanishing into the churning sea below.
Then, from above me, a gasp breaks the silence.
My head snaps upward. Through the storm, through the torrent, she stands on the balcony. The wind tangles her brown hair around her face, rain clinging to her lashes. Her eyes meet mine, wide as the dawn.
Amara Tyne.
The world stills. The roar of the storm fades into nothing and then I see it, the shimmer of golden threads spinning through the air, weaving from my chest to hers. The Binds of Fate.
They glimmer like sunlight through rain and I feel them tighten around my ribs until I can barely draw breath.
I never wanted it to come to this.
You were never supposed to be here.
I tried to stay away. Harder than I’ve ever tried for anything. But I am nothing before the will of fate.
We are its puppets, you and I. Our story was etched into our souls long before this world was born.
And still, I will try to save you.
From this place. From me.
I will make you hate me, Amara Tyne. Hate me until the mere sound of my name burns your throat.
Hate me until you turn and never look back.
Because that is the only way you will live.
So when I am cruel, when I taunt you and break you, when I become every monster whispered about in frightened tongues, know this.
That I love you.
With every cursed breath.
With every damned heartbeat.
Until the end of this life and all others.
I love you, Amara Tyne.
***
After her.The temple trembles as Gygarth moves.A god of smoke and bone and shadow, his form fills the world, every writhing tentacle a mountain, every breath a hurricane. The air is poison, thick and burning in my lungs, and still I charge.
“Together!” I shout.
