Page 117 of The Edge of Darkness

“I drove a blade through Erebus’s heart.”

Time seemed to stop. The rain slowed. The forest hushed.

I lifted my head, letting Eathril’s words sink in. “You . . . killed Erebus?”

Silence. An all-confirming silence.

“How is that even possible?”

“Because his daughter commanded me to. She created me; I was Skadi’s general.” There was so much shame in his voice, I didn’t need to see him to understand the magnitude of it.

“Tell me more,” I said.

“I . . . You’re not . . . offended?”

“What do I have to be offended by, Eathril?”

“I just . . . I thought⁠—”

“I need to know what happened. Whatever it is, it will not change my opinions of you. I swear it.”

A sense of relief permeated the atmosphere. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Stricken with the need to sit, I strode to the nearest tree and took up the space at its roots, propping my back against its wide trunk. The leaves above me averted much of the rain that still fell, so I dropped my shield.

Eathril followed, finding a new tree to take refuge in, directly across from where I sat. “I shall continue, then. I was created at the whim of Skadi’s selfish ambitions. I did as she asked, but as her greed grew, so too did her appetite for killing. She created me from her own blood and shadows, knowing full well what she was doing. I was the only living being in relation to her that was not a god, so naturally, it was to be my hand that took her father’s life. I didn’t ascend to take his place because she had already bound his power to his amulet with no way to undo it.

“I did not want to kill him. In fact, for weeks beforehand, I had been questioning everything. I saw what Skadi had turned into, and I wanted no part of it. I tried to flee, but I had nowhere to go. There was not a place on Skotos where she wouldn’t eventually find me. When I took Erebus’s life, I felt a part of my soul die with him. That was when I knew I could not stay. I would rather die than to further spill the blood of those who did not deserve it. So I rebelled.

“On the day Torin was to open her portal to another world, I lowered the gates to Erebus’s castle and let the Dionachs in. I led them right to the amulet, watched them take it, then fled with them.”

“And you’ve been here ever since,” I concluded.

“I have. When we landed here, I vanished, out of fear that one of the wraiths or witches might notice my presence, and also because I carried something with me that would have been more than enough to prompt suspicion.”

“Do I even want to know what that was?”

He chuckled with amusement. “Coincidently enough, it is the very weapon you have strapped to your side.”

My gaze slid to Death’s Whisper.

“Surely you have wondered at the origin of such a weapon.”

I reached for the hilt and pulled it free from its sheath. Rain plinked against the black blade as I held it out before me, the droplets looking like ink sliding down to the pointed crossguard.

The sword’s discovery and its mysterious appearance had triggered many theories, none of which had ever been confirmed. That was why I had brought it with me, figuring Eathril might know something about its origin.

“It is unlike any other weapon of this world. That blade was hewn from the darkest depths of Skotos’s mountains, and quenched in the waters of its most perilous lake. I took it from Skadi’s throne room the same day the Dionachs took the amulet. It was Erebus’s sword.”

Erebus’s sword.

The obsidian blade seemed to feel immensely heavier the moment Eathril told me whose it had been. I turned it over with both hands, admiring its make, just as I always did. Except now, I felt even more of a connection to it than I had before.

“Taking it from Skadi was the only thing I could think to do before I left Skotos behind. I know it does not change what I did, but the thought of leaving it in the goddess’s hands did not sit right with me. I brought it to the furthest cave I could find here in Calledan, some place that it would not be easily found, and laid it deep within—a tomb, if you will. I returned there every so often, to check on it, but when Aleris befriended me, and gave me my task and a place at his court, I stopped venturing to that cave.

“I told him about the sword, but he never wished to see it. Said it was best left alone, as was my past.” Eathril’s voice shifted, as if he had turned to gaze off into the forest, recalling a memory. “He took my secrets to his grave, and I am forever grateful. He was a good friend. He spun my story to his council. Told them that I was an entity born of an enchantment—a product of Old Magic that would be of great benefit to this territory. No one thought to question it further. I have upheld my task as Calledan’s interrogator ever since.”

Still focused on the sword that I held, I asked, “So why do you stay in Calledan? You swore no oath, am I correct? Why not wander and do as you please?”