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Time passed as we stood there, breathing faintly. Eventually, Stasia transitioned to a curled, seated position a few feet from the abyss's brink; I must have dropped to my knees at some point. I sat right at the entrance of the cavern; if I reached out, I could touch the shadows drifting up and out from the massive, craggy hole.

An icy mist blew from the depths and a strange sensation of life threatened clung to my skin, alighting goosebumps across my arms. The beauty of the afterlife pulsed in the shadows, an ethereal darkness that I wanted to look away from and yet I refused to blink in case I missed Soren returning with Drak. Beside me, Stasia shivered and sighed with what I could only assume was the same fear and awe ebbing and flowing over us, Hel’s touch.

I became vaguely aware of hunger and thirst, but ignored them as I waited. Every so often, panicked thoughts rose up. What if I couldn’t call, or will, Soren back to me? What if he couldn’t find Drak? What if none of it worked at all and I was delusional in my grief?

My pulse sped, and I suddenly couldn’t catch my breath, as if I’d just run up to the peak of the mountain. I closed my eyes and whispered the words I used to say to calm my nerves, and then later to focus my attacks on vampires.

Even killing a god and taking his powers didn’t absolve me of these nerves, only Drak calmed me. That first time he held me, warming me on our journey from Skaldir to Mara’s Keep, I’d melted into him. Only he possessed the power to silence these intrusive thoughts.

“Lux!” Stasia’s voice burst through my thoughts.

I blinked the distractions away, and without my consent, my body rose to its feet. I could only stare, only gulp tiny, desperate breaths as the shadows dragged a body from the depths of Hel. Never could I have predicted this, but there he was: my Drak, in Soren’s arms as he appeared from the shadows.

Soren fully materialized across the abyss, and even from here, the sheen of sweat on his brow was visible. His chest rose and fell with the effort as he collapsed to his knees and lowered Drak’s body to the ground. For a moment, he held still, appearing to bow before royalty.

I broke into a run, bolting around the edge of the opening with Stasia shouting something about being careful from behind me. Dirt and rocks slipped from beneath my boots and tumbled down into the abyss where they plummeted toward the underworld. I didn’t slow down. I dropped at Drak’s side, the soft grass dipping beneath my kneecaps as I draped myself over him in a desperate embrace. He was lifeless, sallow, cold, but whole, and he was here, appearing precisely as he had before ash had swallowed him.

I’d done it.

Soren gave me the soul, and I wasted no time centering it over Drak’s chest. With a ribcage as solid as bone should be, pushing the crystal inward demanded some force, but his body relented, taking in what was rightfully his, and I never questioned it. This was how it was meant to be.

I knew my next task was to breathe life into his mouth, but that was where my understanding ended. Like Odin pressing his lips to the driftwood and creating human life the first time, I was to kiss Drak and force my breath into him. The future beyond that was as dark as the path to Hel; I couldn’t see further with all my attention on restoring him.

With the last of my tears flowing in thin rivulets down my cheeks, I edged closer to his face. His eyes remained shut with his thick eyelashes, long and wet. I glanced up at the sky, only now seeing that the clouds had grown too heavy to hold the fat raindrops that hammered down on us. My wet braid plastered against my back. Rain soaked the tendrils of hair framing my face, and droplets gathered at the ends and dripped one-by-one against Drak’s skin.

I stretched halfway over him, one hand cupping his jaw where it was rough with the growth of his beard. My tears mixed with rain, pooling at his eye sockets and spilling down the sides of his cheeks. With both hands on his face, I inhaled and kissed him.

He didn’t kiss back; he couldn’t.

The tears burned hotter in my eyes, and a painful sob welled up in my throat, but I swallowed it and pulled away. The weather showered us heavier and heavier the longer I tried to give Drak life. I drew a long breath, relishing the fresh smell of rain. Prying his lips open just enough to push the air through, I kissed him harder, exhaling with as much force as my body would allow.

A single drop of water caused his right eyelid to flutter, but he didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t respond to my touch.

“Drak.” My voice broke. “Drak, please.” I patted his chest, desperately searching for the soul again. Would I be able to feel it warm? Would he respond to me?

But his soul was gone, vanished, absorbed within, and Drak was still lifeless. Dead, but with a soul.

I slapped my hand over my mouth, my fingers quivering.

“It’s not working,” Soren said.

If I weren't so drained, I would have punched him for stating the obvious.

I’d failed, I couldn’t bring Drak back. Again, I let my head fall back as I stared at the heavens. I didn’t care about the rain hammering my eyes. Was he in Valhalla now that his soul had returned? Had the gods won again, somehow?

Everything hurt, but my heart thundered, and with each beat, sharp pangs rattled my ribcage. I couldn’t stop shivering. Soaked and defeated, I fell over Drak and tried again and again until my sobbing stole my breath away.

I laid my head on his chest and let the crying drag me under. Despite Hel’s inability to take me, I yearned for her to do so, willing to do anything to stop this grief.

Lux

Lightning snapped and struck the peak with a jagged bolt too close to us. Dangerously close. My heartbeat stuttered as thunder followed, and the storm hammered us with a terrifying fervor.

“We have to leave!” Soren shouted over the rolling growl across the sky.

I clung tighter to Drak. “I’m not leaving,” I breathed.

He tugged at me, peeling me away from my husband as I kicked and screamed, and when Soren finally threw me over his shoulder and carried me to Stasia, I cursed at him. With pain throbbing in my temples and beneath my ribs, my foresight was unfocused. Grief tore me in two again.