The laughter builds.It starts as a whisper and swells to a crescendo. The ghastly sound reverberates through the vacant streets, bouncing off stone, multiplying until it seems to come from everywhere at once. It vibrates in my chest, rattles my bones, and hollows my ears. It steals what little joy I cling to, leaving me an empty shell.
“Bravo.” Kosac appears like a nightmare taking form. “I haven’t seen a performance like that in years. Well done.”
I stare at him with blank eyes. Wilder took all my fight when he left. I got what I wanted, but part of me fears I may have been too convincing, and he’ll never forgive me for my lies. “Where’s Fynn?”
I’m done with games, done with riddles. It’s time to go home.
“He isn’t here.” Kosac’s voice is as desolate as an abandoned tomb.
I shake my head. Liar. “I’ll do it—whatever you want, it is yours. Just free him.”
Kosac glides behind me, floating inches above the pavement. He grabs my shoulders, the bones of his hands impossibly frigid against my skin, each fingertip like a shard of ice. The reaper turns me so that I face the river, his grip unyielding.
“I swear on all that is holy and unholy, the child isn’t here, but you know who is?”
Kosac urges me forward. I fumble a step.
“Look.” The command is a sinister whisper in my ear.
I stare at the unmoving water below. “What am I looking for?”
“You’ll see.” I’m about to tell him where to shove his cryptic words—but then the water transforms before my eyes. It’s not still; it just moves so slowly that it seems motionless. The longer I stare, the more faces I see beneath the glassy surface, eyes open, bodies writhing with silent screams, causing my body to recoil in horror.
“Ghosts?” I gasp. “There are ghosts in the river.”
“Yes.” The single word carries satisfaction, as if my fright pleases him.
“Why?”
“This river carries souls from this level of Mictlan to the next. Those I deem worthy can stay here unscathed, while the others will weaken through nine levels until the cycle begins anew.” Kosac’s spindly fingers dig into my skin, marking me. The pain pales in comparison to the despair unfolding below.
“What do they need to do to be considered worthy?” My heart beats madly inside my chest.
“They prove themselves to me by being useful.”
I blink. I have millions of questions, but none of them get me what I want.
“What does any of this have to do with Fynn?” I finally ask.
“Nothing,” Kosac replies. “But it has everything to do with you.”
“What—”
“Don’t you see her?”
“Who?”
“Aradia.”
There, among dozens of others, Aradia’s soul floats upstream. Her eyes are closed, no torment radiating from theirdepths, but her once-vibrant presence is now reduced to a translucent hue, fading like an old photograph left in the sun.
“Aradia,” I scream, but her eyes remain shut. I jerk out of Kosac’s hold and clutch the rusted railing, seconds away from jumping over it. “Aradia.”
“She can’t hear you.”
Aradia is stuck here because of me. I failed her, hurt her, just like I’ve hurt every person I love. “Free her.”
“I can’t,” Kosac says. “But you can.”
