Pain pierced his chest, tingling down his arms and legs, spreading to his toes. His heartbeat thumped in his ears, loud as drums. Sweat pooled in his palms. The tingling sensation turned dull, numbing his hands and feet. All he could think of was the Nothing. It was all he could feel and smell and see and taste.
But you’re safe now. You won’t ever have to go back there again, said avoice in his head.You’re safe now. Four said he would keep you safe.
But where is Four now?he shouted back at that voice.That’s right—he left.
Nikai loosened his tie. Tore at the buttons on his collar. Tried to breathe against the fear suffocating him. He couldn’t go back to that place again. Couldn’t be in the ravenous dark.
He felt a sudden pressure on his arm.
“You are not alone, Reaper.”
The Librarian.
The pressure remained firm. Comforting.
Nikai stayed on the ground. Filled his lungs and belly with air, letting it trickle slowly out through his mouth. He repeated this, focusing on the pressure on his arm. He didn’t know how much time had gone by, but gradually, his heartbeat slowed.
A subdued red glow had seeped into his surroundings. His eyes adjusted, and he saw pieces of parchment suspended in the air. Words written in black ink appeared on each parchment, then disappeared and reappeared again.
The stories of living mortals.
“Will you help me, qianbei?” Nikai whispered to the dark.
“Of course, young Reaper,” the Librarian said gently. “Where do you wish to begin?”
Nikai struggled to his feet. “Eighteen years ago.”
Sometime later, Nikai stood in the empty throne room of the Fourth Court, staring at the mirror before him. He wasn’t sure if he had recovered from his episode in the Darkroom, but Ten was waiting for his report.
Nikai palmed the glass. “I want to speak with the Tenth King.”
Moments later, the mirror flashed, transforming into a screen. Ten’s face appeared, filling the entire space and too close for comfort.
“Reaper.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Did you discover anything in the Archives?”
“Another piece of the puzzle,” Nikai replied. “I didn’t find anything unusual about the boy, but the cadet’s birth story was corrupted. At first the Librarian couldn’t retrieve it. He said nothing like this has happened before. What he did manage to salvage was a different story—part of the original. It was adeathstory that got scrubbed, a fate that was changed. The girl wasn’t supposed to be born; her mother was in an accident when she was pregnant, andshewas supposed to die. Years later, the mother was killed by a strange Revenant, and the girl...” Nikai faltered.
“What about the girl?” Ten demanded, listening with rapt attention.
“I think there might be a connection between the girl and Four. I—I was there that night. I was there at the accident the mother was in,” Nikai said, his throat tight. “Four saved the mother’s life so the girl could be born; the First King asked him to.”
Ten flared his nostrils. “The girl who cast the impossible spell is the same child that One claimed fate had led them to?”
“It could be a coincidence.” But Nikai wasn’t so sure.
“Coincidence is merely the universe conspiring,” Ten said. “I must see the girl myself. I must speak with her.”
“Speak with her? But we’re not allowed to reveal ourselves.”
Ten stepped back abruptly.
Nikai could see the throne room now. The place was in disarray. Chairs overturned, silk drapes torn, and crumpled balls of paper littering the ornate floor. A black substance smeared against the walls.
“Is everything okay, Your Majesty?”
