I blink and the world tilts.
The square around me has disappeared underwater. The last stragglers—three, maybe four—stand frozen mid-gesture, mouths stretched in silent howls, their torches hanging like guttering candles in a painting. No sound reaches me but the slow, syrupy thud of my own heart.
I look back.
The scarecrow is gone. In its place:Him.
Arms wrenched wide on the cross, bare chest gleaming with sweat that refuses to boil. Fire licks the edges of his skin but never crosses the line. He smiles, slow and fond, as if we are sharing a private joke. His laugh rolls out, low and warm, the only sound in the hush, filling my skull like wine.
I stagger as the euphoria spikes, a bright needle behind my eyes. My mask feels suddenly too tight and I taste copper.
He tilts his head, still laughing, and the flames roar up in answer, swallowing him whole.
I wrench my gaze away. Tears stream down my face, but I can’t tell if they’re from smoke or something else, and when I dare look again, the fire exhales, and he steps through it.
He walks out of the flames as if they are silk curtains, heat rippling off his bare skin, yet the flames bow away, never quite kissing him. He stops an arm’s length from me, close enough that the scent of smoke and something darker, fills my lungs.
“Hello, my love.”
The voice hits like a tremor through my chest. I gasp.
He circles me slowly, unhurried, the firelight sliding across his skin. “It’s so nice to finally stand before you… and speak.”
That voice—it’s smooth and magnetic. Every syllable coils around me and I want more. Ineedmore.
“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he murmurs. “For us. And now… you can have me. But not all of me. Not yet.”
My heart slams against my ribs, sweat beads at my temples and my breath comes ragged and deep. The fire still roars, yet everything beyond it is silent, frozen—time itself holds its breath.
“What magic is this?” I whisper. “Who are you?”
He turns toward the stake, crouching beside what’s left of Maude; her bones have crumbled into ash, the fire licking at them like a final kiss.
How long have we been here? Bones don’t burn to dust that fast.
He stands and crushes a bone in his hand, watching the ash fall from his hand as he runs his other hand through his long, black hair. He faces me again.
“You can call me… Gray.”
Like ash. Like death.
He bows slightly, a courtly gesture that looks almost mocking, then straightens with a smile I’ve seen before—somewhere in the dark between dreams and killing.
“Gray,” I breathe, only realising I’d been holding my breath when he shudders at the sound of his name.
He chuckles, stepping closer until his shadow swallows mine. “If I told you my true name, my crow, it would kill you. It’s far too old for a human tongue.”
Human.
“What are you?” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.
His eyes meet mine—black, but ringed faintly in blue, like the edge of a dying flame. “I am a god.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. A god.
He tilts his head, long hair falling into his face, and smiles in a way that’s both beautiful and cruel. “A death god, Evelyn.”
The way he says my name nearly buckles my knees.
