“What do you mean, it didn't come out?” Kel shrieked.
“It stayed inside him. I think it was trying to free him,” I said. “The Corrupter started screaming, and I thought it was going to work. But he's so fucking evil that he started to infect my wraith. It flowed back into me. It burned. I began to scream too. I had to sever my tie to my wraith.”
“No,” Rath whispered.
“Yes. I cut it loose. Once I did, it swept out of the Corrupter and hovered over him, dripping in darkness.” I swallowed past my dry throat, the memory choking me. “And then the Corrupter attacked it. I assume he attacked it with Death Magic. So, you must know what happened to my wraith, Death. Tell me!”
“Wait, you don't know what happened to your wraith?” Rath demanded.
“I saw it explode.”
“Holy fuck!” Keltyr shrieked. “What the fuck! Wraiths don't fucking explode!”
Xae growled.
Rath's jaw clenched. Then he said, “You should have told us sooner.”
“I know. And I'm sorry. As I said, it just kept slipping my mind. But hold on for me a little longer, Rath. Please. I want Death to answer me.”
“So do I,” Xae said.
“What do you think happened?” Death snapped. “It was foolish of you to try to free him. He is not corrupted. He is the Corrupter. Aranren makes the Death Magic evil. And it was he who destroyed a piece of your wraith, Ember. Your soul.”
“What?” I whispered.
“Some of your goodness was in that wraith. That is now gone. Forever.”
“Are you saying I'm evil now?!” I shouted and launched to my feet.
“Of course, you're not evil,” Keltyr said. He paused, then asked, “He's not, is he?”
“No, you can't be made evil by removing goodness,” Death said. “You are just less good. That's all.”
“Less good.” I fell back into my chair. “I'm less good but not evil. Great.”
“You had a shitload of goodness to start with,” Xae said. “Don't worry about it.”
“Just don't attempt it again,” Rath added.
“Fuck,” I whispered and ran a hand over my face. “I'm less good.”
“Now, can we discuss Ember's Death Magic training?” Death asked.
My men went absolutely silent, then all three of them burst into angry rejections at once:
“Absolutely not!”
“Are you fucking stupid?”
Growl.
I dropped my head into my hands and prayed it would be over soon.
Chapter Eleven
Hours later, after my men had calmed down, Death won his argument. Partially. He would be allowed to train meunder supervision. And there would be no “evil” spells.
“Magic is not evil,” Death said for the fourth time. “It is the user that determines things such as morality and it is also an opinion.”
