It's not a kind smile.
"You're not suited for Rhianelle,” she says flatly.
I've thought it myself a thousand times, but hearing it spoken aloud by a goddess makes it feel like the truth.
“She is bright and pure," the child says softly. "And you? You're broken. Rotten at the core."
She points at the gates, where souls writhe in agony beyond the bars.
"You should go with them," she says simply. "The Hollow has room for monsters like you."
The Keeper nods slowly, still holding Lilith at the threshold. "You've killed thousands, drained them dry and made rivers of blood. The child speaks truth, vampire. You belong with the damned."
I do not deny it.
"I'm not going anywhere. She needs me. I belong with her," I say instead.
"You think yourself worthy of our chosen?" the little goddess asks, tilting her head.
"No," I admit quietly. "But Rhianelle loves me."
The child narrows her eyes. "Sometimes Rhianelle doesn't know what's good for her. Like that time she tried to befriend the shadowcat in Astefar. Nearly lost her hand. Right, Mal?"
The Keeper nods once and shoves Lilith through the gates. Her screams cut off abruptly as the Hollow claims her. He turns to me fully and I realize my mistake.
This god is not going to give me a chance to prove my worth. He's simply going to throw me into the Hollow after Lilith.
Mal moves with terrifying speed, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His skeletal hand shoots toward my chest. I evade by inches, my Strigon reflexes barely enough. His fist slams into the ground where I stood, splitting the frozen earth. He advances relentlessly, using Rhianelle's body to attack me. I can't fight back and risk her life.
Each dodge brings me closer to the gates. He's herding me toward the Hollow and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Another strike comes and his hand plunges into my chest. The pain steals my breath. Both his skeletal hands dig into my sternum, squeezing to peel my ribcage open. Bones crack and splinter under the pressure. He's taking me apart, pulling back layers of flesh and bone to see what's underneath.
"This is quite the collection. So many pieces," the child on his shoulder leans forward, fascinated. "Look, Mal. There's hellspawn here, something from the fae courts. Oh, and a wolf. That's unusual. Is that a fragment of—"
"Yes… a strange puzzle box made of nightmares." Mal sounds amused. "What is he, Blight?"
"Something unsuitable," the child answers. "Our girl needs a proper mate. Someone whole. Not this fractured thing stitched together from curses and beasts."
I feel him tugging at the threads that hold me together. One more yank and I'll come apart completely, scattered into all the components bound by the Rhunhraefn.
I catch the movement from the corner of my eye. Part of Lilith's remaining soul tears free from the Hollow's grip. It comes screaming past us like a banshee wind. She's nothing but shadow and fury now, her form reduced to a shrieking wraith.
Blight swears viciously. The stream of profanity sounds wrong coming from a six-year-old. Mal's attention splits as well. His grip loosens fractionally as he tracks Lilith's escape with his eyes.
That's my chance.
It's insane but I'm out of options.
If he wants to examine my collection of monsters, he can meet them all.
I reach deep inside myself, into the cavern where I keep everything caged. The Noble Wolf in his den, Coinneach in his shadow realm, Wendy in the frozen wastes, the seven demons in their salt circles. Every hungry, broken, dangerous thing that I've been bound to over the millennia.
I open every single cage.
"What are you—" Mal starts, then his eyes widen in genuine surprise. "No."
They pour out through the connection he created, a flood of darkness flowing back along the path his hand opened. Every demon, every shadow, every hungry thing I've ever consumed or bargained with. They surge into him, seeking new territory to claim.
He staggers.
