“Took you long enough.”
Yes. That feeling clawing its way through my ribs, coiling in my gut, burning through my veins—itisanger. I didn’t imagine it. Worse, it’s rage. A hot, helpless fury that tastes like iron on my tongue.
“Death is inevitable,” I grit out.
“Maybe,” Foxface hums. “And maybe no one’s ever figured out how to stop it before.”
“This is wrong. You can't possibly understand wha—”
I don’t get to finish.
The pull hits me like a freight train. It doesn't just hurt—it tears me apart. Agony explodes through me, white-hot and all-consuming, like my very soul is being shredded from the inside out. My breath cracks. My knees slam into the ground with a sickening crunch. My spine arches back, my body twisting like a puppet whose strings have been yanked too hard.
It’s too fast. Too much. There's no time to prepare, no moment to even think—only the raw, unrelentingpain.
A piercing, earsplitting caw rips through the air. Pain—the raven, my tether, my shadow—flares its wings wide before it plummets to the floor. It feels it too.
I scream, but the sound isn’t human—it’s torn from me, a feral, broken thing, somewhere between a snarl and a sob.
“What's happening toit?” I hear Foxface's voice through it all.
Footsteps rush toward me. Shadows move. Someone crouches beside me, another leans in closer. But I can’t look at them. I can’t do anything. My body betrays me, crumpling forward, my trembling fingers catching against the blood-slick floor.
It’s never been like this before. The pull has never been this strong.
I've also never failed to reap a soul.
Through the agony, I hear them.
Foxface. Cassian. The men who caused this.
Close. Too close.
“What's going on?” One of them demands.
I can’t answer. I can barely think. I barely even exist.
And yet…
“The… soul,” I gasp, the words barely making it past my lips. “It's…calling.”
A sharp shuffle. Someone moves.
And then—just like that—the pain stops.
Slowly, I lift my head.
Foxface is watching me, crouched so close I could reach out and grab him by the collar if I wanted to. The grin is gone from his face, and now he just watches me.
Cassian stands behind him, arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Better?” he asks.
My mouth opens but no words come out. Instead, I push myself to my feet and turn to look at the man on the table. He's…dead. Just like that. But I haven't reaped his soul. I couldn't have. Which means…
“Did you just do something to his soul?” I ask before I can stop myself. My voice is hoarse, as if there was not enough air in my lungs. As if Ihadlungs.
Foxface and Cassian exchange a look. It’s subtle, like a silent understanding between them, like they’ve known each other for ages. Cassian doesn’t speak. But Foxface smiles again—this time, it’s different.
