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The warrior threw his sword to the side, an afterthought, before grabbing the shoulders of Devon’s soul, as if he were still alive.
As sudden as his death, he was the essence of himself. Looking out from his soul’s eyes as he watched his mortal body scatter in the wind.
He turned to face the warrior, only to find him still faceless with glowing eyes. Eyes that screamed at Devon that he was far more powerful than anyone could ever fathom.
The man’s hands clamped down on Devon and he felt himself being pulled into the man. He knew, somehow, what was happening to him.
“No!” Devon yelled, struggling to free himself as the shadows that made up the man dissipated and began to wrap around him. He could feel the tug of his soul, himself, as he was pulled. He knew he was heading to the Underworld now.
He was being reaped by his murderer.
Chapter 10
Devon shot up in his bed, taking in the room around him.
The replicant of his old cabin.
Shutting his eyes in relief, he ran his hands over his face.
Unable to stay in bed a moment longer, the adrenaline from his dream still running high, he threw on his clothes. He had to get out of his room and out of the castle. He needed some air, and he needed to be alone in this new place without someone looking over his shoulder. He needed a moment to himself to think.
Moving down the stairs at a clipped pace, the shadowy servants he had heard referred to as
“Reevkas” began to manifest at the bottom of the stairs.
Before they could take their human forms, he ran through them, dispersing them back to the shadows. He grabbed the large, gothic handles to the doors that stood between him and the Underworld and pulled.
Not bothering to shut the doors behind him, he started running. He needed space, having not had a moment truly to himself since he came to the Underworld.
As he ran, he notice how he didn’t seem to tire and he hadn’t really started to sweat. He knew he was in shape, always working to keep his body in top form since that could mean life or death, but this wasn’t even human.
He stopped and turned back to look at the castle, to gauge the distance he had run. It looked
like he had gone at least five miles, and he wasn’t even slightly out of breath.
Putting his hands on his hips, he turned and looked at the surrounding space. He was on a cobblestone road between two pieces of farmland. It looked like an old country road in his native Germania.
Feeling something heavy land on his psyche, he fell to the side of the road. Sitting, he put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
This was forever. He couldn’t even fathom that. That he could exist for more than a hundred years, but forever? Never ending. Knowing he would never die. That he would see the rise and fall of empires, watch the world destroy and rebuild itself time and time again, and he would be exactly as he was now.
He wouldn’t grow old if the state of Persephone and Thanatos was any indication. He would always be… this.
He felt a scream bubble up his throat before it poured out of him. He rolled to his hands and knees, punching the ground as he yelled again and again before collapsing. Nothing changed.
Even his knuckles only bled for a moment before they healed, and in his anger he busted the flesh open again.
This was it. This was immortality.
Rolling onto his back, he looked up at the sky. The purplish moon hung above him, taunting him with the memory of the moon he had gazed up at when he was unable to sleep as a mortal.
A tear slipped down his cheek and rolled back into his hairline. He felt fear. Fear at the unknown, fear at not understanding what eternal life could truly mean. In theory, he understood what it meant, but to really live for eternity?
He closed his eyes and let the tears fall for the Devon who died in that horrible motel room and the Devon who was raised from the dead. He mourned himself.
Most of all, he feared what he would become.
Chapter 11
