“Your powers are returning?” I asked, immediately regretting my question when I turned to see Fate slumped far down in the throne of bones where he was bound.
“No,” he barked. “That . . . used what I had left.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline at his disheveled appearance. His skin was sallow, his eyes deep set and surrounded by the blackest circles I’d ever seen. Bones protruded from his waxy skin, nearly matching the throne he perched atop.
My heart thumped painfully at the sight, and I sighed deeply in resignation, all thoughts of observing this place fading completely.
Perhaps it was better if Meru and Fate’s palace weren’t saved for posterity—it was a secret reserved for the gods, and maybe it should stay that way.
“Tell me what you need me to do,” I said, my voice confident yet soft.
“Don’t lose your fire on my account, Rune Master,” Fate rasped, a rattling sound taking residence in his concave chest. Gone were his resplendent doublets and elaborately designed outer coats; instead, black robes sat heavily on his frail frame. The runes sewn in the very fabric of his being pulsed erratically, their light waning and rapidly fading.
I shook my head, curls bouncing around my face.
“If I waited any longer, you would be dead. Would you have summoned me before then?” I asked, troubled by the visage before me.
Fate gestured with an emaciated hand, skin stretched across bone.
“What do you think?” His voice was weak, but the steel was still there, and I had my answer.
“Give me the knife,” I said, gesturing for the rune-engraved knife of bone resting across his knees, but Fate didn’t move. For a moment, I feared he had died.
“Immortality freely given. Remember, granddaughter?” Fate rasped, his head leaning back against the bones with a slightthunk.
With a shaking hand, I reached out and hesitantly gripped the knife. It was heavier and longer than I expected, the blade of it spanning nearly the length of my forearm.
“It’s heavy,” I mumbled, testing its weight to ascertain how much force I would need to put behind my thrust.
“Artifacts from the cosmos themselves tend to be,” Fate remarked dryly, his fathomless eyes rolling lazily toward me. “You won’t need much force. A gentle nudge should do it. If you’re here of free intentions, it should slide like butter.”
My nose wrinkled at the comparison.
“Quickly now, granddaughter. Or we’re both dust, and Elyria falls.”
The shadow dress dissipated, exposing the area above my left breast completely.
I hefted the knife so its point rested against my skin. It was much warmer than I expected, and I felt something foreign beneath my sternum writhing as if trying to move away from the weapon clutched tightly in my hand.
Knuckles white, tattoos gleaming in stark contrast, I took a deep, fortifying breath before letting it out slowly.
“Will . . .” I asked, unsure how to pose my question.
“Will it hurt? I don’t know, Rune Master. I’ve never cleaved my immortality from my soul before,” Fate wheezed before hacking a cough.
I shook my head vigorously. “You misunderstand. Will I be able to come back here?”
A thin smile split the skin on Fate’s face. “So like your mother, and your grandmother, really. Come here.” Fate gestured for the arm not clutching the dagger.
In a swift motion that burned more than I expected, he used his fingernail to etch a rune on the inside of my elbow. I looked at it, understanding and recognition cutting like a knife.
“So you can return,” Fate whispered.
“Do it, Child,” he rasped, nodding to the knife.
I thought I would be afraid when faced with death. Turns out I was more afraid of what would happen if Ididn’tdie than if I did.
With a soul-deep determination, I thrust the dagger straight into my heart. Breath froze in my chest as my whole body careened between cold as the mountaintop outside and the raging fire of a volcano. The knife stayed lodged in my chest, the skin and bone closing around it to keep it in place as the magic from the runes pulsed down its length, seeking something inside.
