Epilogue 5
Cat
“You’re not going to die,” I said, rolling my eyes as Duncan dug in his heels and refused to pass through the veil. “Would I lead you to your death, after everything?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Phil got locked in a mirror; maybe you’re gonna stuff me into a chandelier to decorate your new home.”
I paused on the edge of the doorway between life and death. “We already have a chandelier, and it’s prettier than you.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You know, you’re not very nice. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“You,” I replied. “Frequently on the walk from the village to this road.”
He groaned and stepped up to the edge of the veil, batting a flop of brown hair from his eyes. He looked better than he had the last time I saw him, his eyes rimmed in red as he sat beside Orwell’s immobile body—again—and stared into space.
“Duncan,” I said, catching his attention. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
I’d lost too many friends; I needed to hold onto the few I had left. He must have realised that too, or remembered that he did in fact trust me, because he sighed and followed me into the domain of Death.
It was a short walk to where the passage between the domain and the white, empty realm had been thinning for days, curls of dark mist drifting from the space.
Fuzzball had trudged into the darkness an hour ago to retrieve our new Violence, so it shouldn’t be too long now.
Death had sensed the domain getting ready to greet a new god—one.
So far, no one had come through as Cruelty.
I hoped for someone who’d handle that job with care and respect, and as gentle a hand as possible, not another selfish psychopath.
“Are you sure about this?” Duncan asked, ruffling his hair again as he glanced at me. “If you’re wrong—”
“I’m not.” Or at least, Fuzzball wasn’t. She’d sensed the new Violence, and I trusted her judgement.
And then she was there, shoving her nose through the smoke, hooves and legs following, bringing a new rider with her.
“Just so we’re clear,” I said, meeting the hard eyes of her passenger, “this horse is mine.”
Orwell rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you, too.”
I laughed, but my attention drifted behind him, to a tiny glimmer of white through the dark space. That white, empty realm. Exile.
Somewhere on the other side was the friend I’d known for too short a time. Another friend who survived. But Ender was alone, forgotten by everyone.
“What’s that look for?” Duncan asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” I replied, but in the secrecy of my mind, I began to plan.