Epilogue Sylas
HAVE YOU SEEN RAFAEL GRIMM?
Characteristics: Highly dangerous, chameleon, manipulative, tall.
epilogue | sylas
I always thought that I would have a poetic death, killed by the aspier supposed to grant me immortality.
Or, perhaps, at the hands of Overseer Paltro for disobeying orders.
But not as poetic as giving up my life to save Viola.
Now I finally understand Raiek—he moves only for love. Mom to Dad, Dad to me, and me to Viola.
As I stand in the middle of a dome-shaped room, waiting for a short lady dressed in a bright pink suit to process my case, I lament my fate. How am I expected to sit in the Underworld without my only reason to exist?
The smell of burned roses wafts into my nostrils, and I sneeze. I approach the counter in the room, and the woman turns up her nose.
“Do you smell that?” she hisses. “Someone is trying to escape.”
My face must betray my confusion, because she rolls her eyes. “The smell of burned roses is an alarm for when souls are trying to escape from the ten circles.” She gestures toward the ten doors to my right. “Do they teach you nothing up there?”
Jumping off her chair, she opens every one of the ten black doors, slamming them shut one right after the other.
Any harder and the brass plaques will fall off.
Frowning, she spins and reaches for one of the two identical silver doors on the opposite side.
“These,” she explains without being prompted, “are where the Conduit Master ferries ghosts along the Underiver to the Underworld.”
“Why am I here?” I follow her.
“You’re right. You shouldn’t be here; you should be on the other side, where Fenn processes ghosts.” The short lady pauses at the second silver door, considering me with a long, exasperated sigh. “You arrived with your body, so we have to confirm your status with the Conduit Master.”
“Is that common?”
She scrunches her nose. “Not as common as you think, but more common than we would like.” She gestures to the domed space. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have a whole processing room dedicated to mishaps.”
Yesterday, I was the wielder of the most powerful aspier in the world, and today I’m a mishap. “How long will the Conduit Master be?” I press. “I’ve been waiting a while.”
The woman adjusts her glasses. “Could be five minutes, could be five centuries. Time isn’t real in the Underworld.”
She huffs out a breath and jerks open the silver door.
“The Conduit Master is dead,” a young female voice says. I recognize her before she even walks through the door. Her fiery red hair cascades down her back in angry waves. Her eyes, black as the raven, find the lady in the pink suit. She smiles. “Lucia, you redecorated.”
Lucia drops her jaw so quickly I worry it’s permanently damaged. “You’re back,” she gasps. “You’re back.”
“Not for long, sweet Lucia.” Ysenia takes her into her arms. “I’m only here to guide Sylas back. He was an anomaly, as you’ve noticed.”
“My queen, you know the rules.” Lucia takes her hand, her eyebrows knitting together. “No one leaves the Underworld unless they speak to Death himself.”
“Just Ysenia,” Ysenia corrects her. “We’ve known each other for so long, can’t you make an exception? For me?”
She holds Lucia’s hand, her eyes boring into the other woman’s, waiting for an answer. I suddenly remember the fables we read at the academy, and I understand why Ysenia doesn’t want to speak to the God of Death. If I had abandoned Death for centuries, I, too, would avoid him.
“Ysenia, only he decides the fates in the Underworld.”
“Very well,” Ysenia says, sucking in her cheeks. “Where is he?”
I clear my throat. “You don’t have to—”
Ysenia’s eyes zero in on me. Against the black walls, she looks like a raging flame threatening to ravage everything in her path. “My Mortemagi will die a premature death should you be forever stuck here.”
Her Mortemagi. Did the fumes from the burned roses go to Ysenia’s head? Because I’m certain Viola is my Mortemagi.
“Why are you here?” I ask, looking around. This feels too mundane for the Underworld. I don’t know what I was expecting, burning gates or drowning skeletons… but definitely not a room that might as well have been one of DOTS’s offices.
Her tone sharpens. “I had to come down here to babysit, at the request of my Mortemagi.”
“She did not—” I retort.
Her eyes snap up at me, the unsettling black of her irises pinning my mouth shut. If the fables hold any truth, Ysenia wouldn’t have come back to the Underworld if she didn’t have a good reason.
“Ysenia.” Lucia offers her an oval, red-stoned ring. “Death hasn’t been seen in centuries. A century or so after you left, he locked himself away.”
Could this explain why Mortemagi have grown more unhinged over the years? Abandoned by their God. Forced to navigate the world without guidance? Could this be how Grimm took over so easily?
Ysenia studies the ring in her palm, then closes her hand over it. She thanks Lucia and sets her jaw, taking in a sharp breath. She doesn’t want to be here any more than I do.
“Here.” Lucia guides Ysenia to a short hallway that leads to a small room tucked behind her tall counter.
“Come, Sylas.” Ysenia beckons me over, and I follow behind.
Two mirrors hang on opposite walls of the short hallway, neither of them showing my reflection. I pause in horror, but then realize—of course—the dead don’t have reflections.
Right ahead, Ysenia stands in front of an ornate red door. The closer I get, I notice that the paint moves like blood flowing through tiny veins. “Is this…”
“Blood? Yes,” Lucia answers behind us. “The Underworld runs on the lifeblood mages sacrifice. You wouldn’t know that, of course. Haal’s subjects know nothing of sacrifice.”
“All we know is sacrifice,” I retort.
“Enough,” Ysenia snaps. She runs her knuckles over a brass raven affixed to the right wall. It reminds me of the one outside the Corvi crypt in Riverview. She places the ring in a small, rounded dish underneath the raven’s break, and the door opens.
She plucks the ring, considers it for a moment, then shoves it onto her ring finger. Lucia gasps, but she doesn’t dare speak. I don’t either.
“Death’s residence is at the end of the Underworld. I don’t know how long it will take, and you may be lost forever. But if we succeed, we’ll convince Death to send you back up. Do you agree to these terms?” Ysenia drones.
No. I stare at her blankly. I cannot be lost forever. Now that I know I’m an anomaly, I have to find my way back to Viola. Not even Death will keep us apart.
“Let’s go,” she says. Has she lost her mind? I haven’t agreed.
Before she takes the first step into this pit of darkness, Ysenia’s gaze cuts to me, sharp and accusatory. “If anything happens to Viola while I’m gone, I will create a new circle of the Underworld and see to it that you relive your worst fears for eternity.”
I gulp.
Watching Ysenia threaten me over Viola tells me all I need to know. If she loves Viola as fiercely as I do, we’re going to get out of here.
“Lead the way.”
As I prepare to potentially lose my soul to the depths of the Underworld, something stirs in my pocket.
For a moment, I think it’s a trick of wicked ghosts I have yet to meet. I dig through, and a cool, scaled body wraps around my wrist. I pull my hand out, and Raiku winks at me.
“Do you love her?” Ysenia asks, without looking back.
“I died for her.” Even if I had known this love would seal my coffin, I’d have fallen in love with her a thousand times over.
“Good.” She takes the first step. “Because that’s a lot of lives promised.”
THE REAL END