"And which realm would that be for me?"
He didn't answer. Couldn't. Because the thought of her soul passing to any realm but his...
She seemed to read the answer in his silence. Her gaze dropped tothe dark traces on her wrists. His magic's mark on her skin. When she looked up again, her shoulders had squared, chin lifting.
"The tribute system." Her voice sharpened. "If death is just part of a natural cycle, if the realms exist to help souls heal... where exactly do living sacrifices fit into this cosmic balance?"
There it was.
He could deflect. Offer explanations about strengthening barriers, maintaining balance.
He couldn't lie to her.
"They don't."
His shadows thickened, agitated by his own admission. By the truth he'd never spoken aloud to any tribute before.
"The tribute system is archaic. A relic from when the barriers were new and humans feared what existed beyond death. It began as a partnership. Mortals helping strengthen barriers." He paused. "The wards haven't required sacrifice to function for ages."
Silence.
She didn't move, but her eyes narrowed. "You're telling me I was sent here, chained, marked for death, for nothing?"
"For politics." The admission tasted like ash. "The human kingdoms fear what would happen if they stopped. We allow them to believe refusing would bring catastrophe."
She studied him with that gaze, and he wondered what she saw. Whether the truth made him more or less monstrous in her eyes.
"Have any tributes survived?"
"No."
She was quiet, processing. He watched her work through conclusions that tightened his chest.
"You could stop it. Refuse them."
"I could." He'd considered it countless times, always finding reasons to maintain tradition instead. "But the other Death Lords would continue. If I alone refused, the human kingdoms would perceive weakness. Send their tributes to other domains where survival is even less likely."
"So you maintain it because you're all too proud to be the first to blink."
His shadows reached for her again, drawn by the challenge in her voice, the fearlessness that never failed to affect him. "Yes."
She pushed off the railing, moving closer. Near enough now that he could count the rapid beat of her pulse at her throat.
"At least you're honest about it." Her voice had dropped, intimate. "Most would dress it up in noble purpose."
"I've lived too long for lies."
She held his gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line before relaxing. Then she nodded once. "Good to know where you actually stand."
"Does it change anything?"
"I'm still trapped either way." But her tone carried less bitterness than it had weeks ago. "At least now I know the truth."
His shadows curled around her wrist. That same place they'd maintained contact during the ward-work, where his magic had left traces. He should pull back. Should maintain distance.
Her breath caught. Barely audible, but he noticed it.
The tension between them shifted. Still present, but no longer sharp with anger. His chest felt tight, his shadows restless against her skin.
