Page 10 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“Over thirty sunsets,” Thanos replied. “What you call ‘autumn’ is soon to arrive.”

She sucked in a breath as her cards fluttered to the ground. She’d been suspended in Blake’s prison for over a month. On the verge of dying, but not quite alive, her body left in that desiccated, decaying form for weeks. Where had they left her body? Was she truly abandoned in these woods as Thanos suggested?

Kora’s knees quaked as she shot from the chair, unable to sit still any longer. Her stomach churned, her mouth filling with saliva, but she wasn’t granted the release of vomiting. Just as she was stuck in the void, her body hovered on the edge of a nauseating cliff, unable to let go of its dizzying hold.

“A month,” she gasped as she bowed over, trying to retch. “I’ve been a corpse for over a month! He’s kept me here like some abandoned dead pet!”

Another rotation of tattoos, spyglasses, broadswords and golden arrows whirled around her. Kora retched again, but sweet release was out of reach. A flash of gold sparked from the forest, intertwined with twinkling stars and the scent of ale. Her lip trembled, as silver brimmed her eyes.

Kora sobbed as Samuel’s sea shanties winded around her, followed by smoky wood and ash, the bark of a bloodhound, and the twinkling laugh of a lost friend. Throughout it all, a singular wise voice brushed the shell of her ear.

No one could ever own you.

Kora collapsed to her knees, as poison spewed from her mouth. Clumps of soil, tar, and wisps of putrid power. Her heart ached viciously, for the friends she’d left behind, and the ones who waited for her on the other side. And she was caught in-between.

Thanos’ spindly hand swept through the air, and her nausea and raw aching instantly disappeared. A gentle breeze drifted through the clearing, granting cool relief across her flushed skin, and silence graced the forest, Aryn’s voice and Samuel’s singing vanishing. Kora straightened, and marched over to Thanos, who remained casually sat back in his small stone chair.

“Why did you do that?” she snapped.

“I was removing your pain.”

“I wasn’t in pain! I felt something for the first time in ages!”

Thanos cocked his head to the side, revealing a single black eye, with a white pupil. “You wish to feel ill?”

“I wish to feel human. To feel alive. Even something as disgusting as being sick. I’ve been stuck in this in-between for too long. I’ve become disconnected, I hadn’t even noticed the time passing, the leaves fading. Gods, I missed my birthday too!” Kora hysterically laughed. In the wider picture, her birthday seemed insignificant.

Thanos’ smile returned, joining his floating black eye in the misted grey of his hood. “You wish to feel alive.”

Kora paused, as realisation washed over her. She opened her mouth, and then shut it as she gawked at Thanos and the cards by his feet. “I suppose . . . you won the game.”

Thanos stood, placing a cold hand on her shoulder. “Fretting about the human convention of birthdays shows you are still yet to live, blessed one. Somewhere deep inside of you, a kernel burns. I can—and have always—seen it. I will always be able to see when life still shines through.”

Kora swallowed as she leaned into his touch. “I don’t truly know how old I am. Or who I was, and who I’m meant to be. I fear I’m too small . . . too unworthy of what’s expected of me. Silly, isn’t it?”

Thanos choked, as something akin to a laugh bubbled out of his throat. Kora raised a brow at his jerky reaction. “Dear one, I am over three thousand years old. Time and its pressures no longer exist after a while. I can only mark my occasions by what the old world calls Hallow’s Day. As for feeling small, you will always be worthy in the eyes of the gods.”

A breath whistled through her teeth at Thanos’ age. She still couldn’t believe she had spent weeks with the First God of Devania, playing cribbage like . . . friends. And he recognised Hallow’s Day, the autumnal festival celebrated by Devanians, to signify the creation of their world, and to offer prayers to Thanos. Something that hadn’t been celebrated in decades.

“Do you miss their prayers?” she asked. “Does it feel . . . lonely, without Devania?”

Thanos froze, his hand still resting on her shoulder. His bony fingers were so long they trailed down her back. Whispers of pale ash decorated his wrists, and before Kora could peek up the sleeves of his cloak, Thanos withdrew, clearing his throat before clasping his hands together, summoning a grey veil to shroud his hands.

“Gods do not live for prayer. We welcome and accept it, but we are here to serve, not the other way round. But . . .” Thanos paused, shifting the grey veil over his grasp. “I may be the least lonely of us all. I have the gift of greeting all souls and caring for them forever in Umbra, whether they believe in us or not.”

Kora stood, stunned at the openness of the deathly divinity. She wobbled as something in her core twisted, and the canopy waned, a familiar groan winding through the branches.

“Is . . . is Finlay there with you? Can I see him? Are my family there?” She twisted her fingers as Thanos grew quiet. If she could have this one chance, to see him, or them. A distant yell rumbled through the clearing, and Kora blinked as Thanos’ form shuddered, the piercing light beside them fading.

“That would not be wise,” he replied sternly. “It is not healthy for mortals to interact with the dead.”

Kora scoffed. “I’ve spent over a month with the king of the dead. I’d say I’m an expert.”

That bubbling hack echoed from Thanos, as if he wasn’t used to laughing. “You are blessed, but I cannot grant this wish for you, my dear.”

The yell increased, bouncing off the peeling bark of the clearing. Kora’s head whipped around, as the circular forest melted, rivers of green and brown bubbling across the mossy plain, revealing the black of the void lingering behind it.

“No, I’m not ready! I don’t want to go back to the void!” She lurched forward, grasping for Thanos’ spindly arm. He didn’t waver as he held her steady, his cold grip turning warm.