The wraith… willfeedon Grim Reapers?
“Oh, yes,”Death purrs.“And she won't be content with just a few. Oh, no. She'll never be satisfied.”
A shiver rips down my nonexistent spine. Because I know exactly what he means.
She didn’t just attack me. She didn’t just hurt me.
She tried to take me.
Like she could swallow me whole, absorb me into herself, make me part of her.
And if she could do that to me?
She could do it to any Reaper.
“So, tell me, Miss Skye…”A pause, as if savoring the question.“What shall I do with you?”
I can’t answer. Not because I don’t want to. Not because I don’t have answers. But because I know, deep in the marrow of my being, that nothing I say will matter.
Death does not bargain.
Death does not negotiate.
Death does not forgive.
And yet… I’m still here.
Still floating in this infinite void. Still waiting for my sentence.
Which means there’s a chance.
A small, miserable, terrifying chance.
Death hums, like he’s enjoying watching me twist.
“There is only one solution,”he finally says, drawing out the moment just long enough to make me feel it in my bones.
I brace myself.
Then—
“You will undo what you have done.”
What?
“You will hunt what you have created. You will fix the balance you have shattered. You will erase your mistakes from the fabric of existence.”His voice sharpens, turns razor-cold.“Or I will erase you.”
A weight crushes my chest, suffocating, all-consuming.
I know what he means before he even says it.
He doesn’t mean just me. He meansthem, too.
The three men.
If I fail—if I refuse—he won’t just take me.
He’ll take them.
