“Are you sure about that, Rajy-boy?” Heather snapped. “Because you sound a little shaken to me, and I hear all the things. Like any little tone you don’t want someone to hear in your voice? This girl”—she pointed to herself—“hears it. And what I hear is you shaking in your Dead Realm boots.” She shrugged. “I mean, just saying.”
Jewel’s eyes were wide as she stared at the other healer. “What in the actual hell, Heather? Are you trying to get us killed?”
Heather frowned. “No. If I wanted to get us killed I would have pointed out that he sounds like a wuss, and because he’s a wuss, this is really allhisfault. You’ve taken on so much of the blame for this. And you shouldn’t. If we just need to lay blame somewhere, then let’s make sure at least some of it is dropped at the feet of the correct candidate.”
“Now would be a good time to stop talking,” Andora hissed.
“Then help us.” Fane ignored all three of them, Jewel included, and stepped forward. “Tell us how to get out of your realm and share with us what we need to do to stop her.”
The ruler’s gaze shifted to him, then back to Jewel. “The living have no place in my realm. But now that you are here, I cannot release you. I am trapped in this place and do not hold the power to open the veil.” Jewel realized that the voice had become distinctly male the more they spoke to the ruler, and it reeked of bitterness. “But blood magic reveals many things. The greater the sacrifice, the better. If you want to leave the Realm of the Dead, you will each need to be willing to make such a sacrifice.”
“Dammit,” Heather spat out. “Why does italwayscome back to giving shit up? Haven’t I given enough up already? Haven’t we all? And”—she tilted her head slightly as she looked in the direction of the ruler despite not being able to see him—“why do you suddenly sound much more male and less, well, all the things?”
The dark being turned his red glare to the blind healer. His form began to shrink until he no longer loomed over them. Now, still shrouded in shadows that danced around him, he appeared only a few inches taller than Fane. Jewel could see the vague hints of the details of a human face, but the more her eyes tried to focus, the less her mind was able to grasp. “Who are you to decide when it is enough?” he asked Heather. “At what point in time was it the place of a human to declare that the sacrifice was enough, all transgressions had been covered, and peace should rule in the world?
“You are flesh and bones. Your life so short. You’re here one moment and gone the next. Any sacrifice you make wouldn’t cover much of anything. You have little to offer the world considering you are only in it for a blink. And the time you are here, you age quickly. Your body becomes less efficient, less able to offer your people anything of significance.”
Heather’s jaw tightened, but her expression didn’t falter. “Maybe my time is short. Maybe I’m just flesh and bones. Maybe I’m a blink to you, but that doesn’t mean my sacrifices don’t matter. It doesn’t meanIdon’t matter.”
The ruler tilted his head, the faint outline of his shadowed face shifting in a way that made Jewel’s stomach churn. The darkness around him pulsed and writhed like living things, feeding off the tension in the air. His laugh—low and bitter—echoed around them, bouncing off the cavernous walls.
“Ah.” His voice dripped with disdain. “The blind healer speaks of havingsignificance.Tell me, mortal, do the grains of sand on a beach cry out for meaning? Do the leaves on a tree demand to be remembered when they fall to the ground and decay? You are no different. A speck of dust in a vast, endless expanse.”
Jewel’s chest tightened at his words, and her heart ached at the venom in his tone. She wanted to defend Heather, to stand up to this being that spoke as though they were nothing, but Jewel couldn’t seem to find her voice. She was too aware of the way his gaze kept returning to her, lingering like he knew something she didn’t.
Fane stepped forward yet again, perhaps to draw the ruler's attention to himself. The alpha’s movements were slow and deliberate, his wolf practically vibrating with tension under his skin. He wasn’t one for long speeches; he was a wolf, a protector, and he spoke in actions more than words. But this time, he let his voice cut through the ruler’s derision.
“And yet”—Fane’s tone was low and dangerous—“here you are, trapped in this place, needing the help of those grains of sand to do whatyoucannot. You can belittle us all you like, but if we’re so insignificant, why do you even bother speaking to us? Why not let us rot here like the others?”
The shadows around the ruler stilled, and for a moment, the air seemed to grow heavier. It pressed down on Jewel’s shoulders, and she struggled to keep her breathing steady. The ruler’s gaze shifted back to Fane, and though his face was still cloaked in darkness, Jewel swore she saw the faintest hint of a smirk.
“Careful, wolf,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less chilling. “You tread dangerously close to impertinence. But…” He paused, as if considering something. “You are not wrong. I do need you, though I loathe to admit it. I cannot open the veil myself, but there are … ways. As I mentioned, before the unseeing fool spoke, powerful magic binds this realm, but blood magic canunbindmany things. But there will be a cost, and it will not be small.”
“This unseeing fool hopes the sacrifice is your ass on a spit, going round and round over a fire like a rotisserie chicken.” Heather sounded as if she were speaking about a delicious meal and not about cooking the Ruler of the Realm of the Dead for dinner.
“Perhaps your sacrifice will be your voice box, ripped from your body,” the ruler offered.
“Do not say another word,” Andora barked out as she pointed a finger at Heather. Then Andora turned back to the dark being.
“By all means, let her speak while she still has the ability,” he continued. “After all, it’s called a sacrifice for a reason.” He looked at Fane. “The more you have, the more you lose. And you have much, don’t you, young alpha?”
Fane didn’t flinch at the implication, his piercing, blue eyes locked on the ruler’s shadowed form. “I am no stranger to loss. Tell us what we need to do.”
The ruler’s gaze shifted back to Jewel, and her stomach dropped. She instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, as though she could shield herself from the weight of his stare.
“It begins with and ends with her,” the ruler said, his voice softer now, almost contemplative. “The healer. She is an enigma. There is darkness that continually attempts to embrace her. Tendrils touch her, then dance away. But she carries something within her—a light, life, power—that keeps it at bay. The light does not belong in this realm. It has no place here, and yet, it lingers. The darkness, well, that is quite at home in my realm. I wonder…” His words hung in the air like a thick fog.
“What do you mean it beginsandends with her?” Fane’s voice was sharp now, his protective instincts flaring as he stepped closer to Jewel, placing himself between her and the ruler.
The ruler’s laugh was soft this time, almost wistful, but it sent a shiver down Jewel’s spine all the same. “You’ll see soon enough, wolf. The sacrifices required are different for each person that it’s required of. I thought it would be you. But it’s her.” He paused, his shadowed face turned toward Jewel again. “It’s definitely her.”
Jewel’s breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to tip. Fane’s hand brushed against hers, grounding her, but his gaze never left the ruler.
“Explain,” Fane demanded through gritted teeth, his wolf’s growl bleeding into his voice.
The ruler’s form began to dissipate, the shadows unraveling like smoke. “All in due time.” His voice echoed as his figure faded into the darkness. “Prepare yourselves, mortals. The path ahead will demand more than you are ready to give. But know this…” They could no longer see him, but his voice was like a death knell. “Once you have lingered in a place where you do not belong, part of it attaches itself to you. When you leave this place, the shadows will follow you. You will never escape them.”
And then he was gone, leaving only silence and the oppressive weight of his words hanging in the air.
