“I have judged your soul as well, and I deem you worthy.”
“Worthy of what?”
“Of something countless others have sought—and perished for.”
With a graceful gesture, Anam raised an open palm, and before me, a door materialized out of thin air. It was slightly ajar, with warm light spilling from its edges. A profound sense of purpose emanated from beyond it, calling to my soul. It was inviting yet intimidating.
“Of course,” Anam continued, voice deceptively calm, “you have a choice. If you would prefer to follow your brother, that path is available to you as well.”
The air felt charged, crackling around me. I stared at the door, feeling instinctively that whatever lay beyond it was significant—possibly dangerous, certainly transformative. My fingertips tingled as I reached hesitantly toward the smooth golden handle.
“What’s on the other side?” I murmured.
Anam’s eyes glinted knowingly, but he imparted no more information.
Swallowing my fear, I opened the door wider, the white light enveloping me like a gentle embrace. I felt strangely certain I was making the right choice.
I thought of Rowan’s tears. Of his vow. Of the world I might leave behind. But I had to believe this step wasn’t an ending, only a beginning.
“Mavis,” Anam spoke once more, drawing my attention. I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “When you meet my sister, tell her this: one more soul meddled with, and I’ll come calling.”
Despite myself, I smiled at the Reaper of Souls. Turning forward, I took a deep breath and stepped confidently into the unknown, embracing whatever destiny awaited me.
Chapter 53
“Worthiness is planted within virtue.
So be virtuous in life, and perhaps worthiness will find you.”
- The Old Book
Rowan
Alarms wailed through the corridor like a chorus of mourning wraiths. Red lights pulsed across the ceiling in sickening flashes, bathing the icy walls in color that felt too cruel, too loud for the silence inside me.
“She’s gone,” I whispered, though no one had asked.
I knelt on the floor, cradling Mavis in my arms, her body limp and far too still. My forehead rested against hers, and I inhaled the remnants of her scent—rosemary, old parchment, and something uniquely hers that had never been defined by words.
Sam’s voice was distant, like it echoed from behind glass. “Rowan, we have to go! Now!”
I couldn’t hear him—not truly. My heartbeat had fractured, split down the middle, and now only half of it beat. The other half had died in my arms.
I had whispered Netali’s vow into her ear, binding my soul to hers. And now that hers had fled, mine was unraveling. I felt it—like the universe had turned inward, like the stars themselves mourned her.
“She’s all I had,” I murmured, unaware I’d spoken aloud.
Renata crouched in front of me, her face both fierce and soft. “I know,” she said, her voice barely audible over the alarms. “But if you want to bury her yourself—if you want to lay her to rest the way she deserves—we have to move.”
Her words sliced through the haze.
My breath caught. The thought of her being left behind, dissected or discarded was unbearable. They wouldn’t bury her the way Anam demands it, to spite me, and so her soul would never know peace. I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I nodded once.
We moved quickly after that.
Sam took point. Naia and Renata flanked our rear. I carried Mavis’s body close to my chest, wrapped in my cloak, her pale face tucked under my chin like a fragile secret.
