Page 256 of Starside

The God of Death. The silver-haired warrior who steals brides, who rules demons, who is famed for his ruthlessness, and who put a bounty on my head.

“Thank you,” I say to the goddess. And I never thought I would be thanking the woman who killed my entire family. Her gems blink back at me as she nods her head. She turns toward the tunnel at the end of this cave, wide and tilted up, as if it leads straight to the stars. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

I reach toward the connection between me and my dragon, the one it spoke to me through in the skies. Are you there? I ask.

The same resonance responds, the wordless language that translates in my mind. Always, she says.

I have something for you, I say.

Come and get it.

With knee-shattering force, my dragon breaks through the arch, shattering the silver beams, and lands right behind me, shaking the ground. I can feel the steam of her breath above my head.

The goddess’s eyes widen. “You made a blood oath not to kill me.”

“I never said anything about my dragon.” I look up at my silver companion. “Eat.”

The goddess can’t even summon a flicker of power before my dragon swallows her and her thousand gems whole.

47

Kill the God of Death, and you can bring back your family.

I might have been afraid of him, I might have been running from him this entire time, but hope and love banish any fear from my chest. Because—I’ll do anything. I’ll climb up to the fucking stars if I need to. I will rip them from the sky. I will crush them in my hands. I will break every bone, shatter every tooth, skin myself alive if I have to, and none of it will matter if they can come back.

Without a second of hesitation, I dig my starlight blade into the ground, drip more of my blood into the dirt—

And whisper, “God of Death.”

The cave falls away. My stomach lurches. I’m being portaled somewhere, instead of him coming to me.

Ice crawls through my veins, but I tighten my hold on the hilt of my sword, until a new room settles around me.

The ceilings are hundreds of feet high and intricately carved. The floors are solid silver. The door in front of me has been punched through, ripped apart. Metal is everywhere. Empty thrones surround me.

Slowly, I turn around.

There’s a body on the floor, eyes open, with a blade buried straight through its chest. I know that blade. It’s standing tall and proud right in front of a throne crowned with a stone black as the night sky. The throne of the God of Death.

When I meet the eyes of the person sitting in it, my heart finally breaks.

“No,” I say.

Raker doesn’t say anything at all.

My sword is across his lap, still in its scabbard.

“No,” I say again, shaking my head, refusing to believe it.

A goblet just like the one I claimed is turned over by his throne. It’s empty. He drank it.

“Aris,” he finally says, standing.

“No,” I say, with every smelted piece of my soul. “You don’t get to say my name. You don’t get to look at me.”

His eyes flash with something like regret, but a moment later, it’s gone. All emotion has vanished. Just like that goddess. He takes a step forward. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

“This is exactly where I should be,” I say, my voice shaking. I tilt my head at him. “So did you just kill the God of Death?” I look at the man on the ground, but he doesn’t look like any of the paintings from the Great House we visited. Not at all.