Chapter 26 Svenn
Everything is gray in the realm of the dead, from the sand beneath my feet to the sky above. An endless stretch of nothing that surrounds me on all sides.
I don’t remember how I got here. But I know I’m fucking dead. I pass other souls. They wander like I do. A few sit in the ash-sand, staring at nothing. None of them speak or look at each other. We’re alone together in this vast, empty place.
I should feel something about this. Fear or anger maybe, despair.
But I feel nothing. I remember nothing of my life except for my name, Arescaine Darian Andras. The rest of my memory has been hollowed out from my brain.
A sound cuts through the silence.
“Svenn!”
A faint voice calling for someone. It’s not my name but I stop walking. I turn my head, trying to pinpoint the direction.
“Svenn!”
The voice is beautiful, like a melody and music I forgot existed—
Rhianelle.
Everything rushes back in one violent wave. I know exactly who I am.
My name. My kingdom. My beasts. The centuries of blood and darkness.
I am Svenn… Arescaine Darian Andras of Morsvyenn. I am a Strigon.
Rhianelle is calling for me.
What the fuck am I doing walking?
Pain tears across my back as my wings burst free, spreading wide behind me. I launch into the air and follow the sound of her voice, searching the endless gray below. Souls blur beneath me, but none of them have silver hair. None of them are her.
“Svenn!”
She’s calling for me.
Even flying would take too long. I reach for the shadows instead. They answer instantly, opening around me like a doorway.
Where to? Coinneach asks.
Home.
I step through.
Rhianelle appears before me, her silver hair catching what little light exists in this realm. Her small body is streaked with ash, and she is running toward me with exhausted determination.
Then I see the stranger looming over her.
I move faster than lightning.
I put myself between them, one hand shooting out to seize him by the throat.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snarl, and my grip tightens. “What did you do to her? If you hurt her, I swear I’ll—”
“Svenn, stop! Don’t kill him!” Rhianelle says, panicked. “That’s Death!”
I freeze. “What?”
“Death,” she repeats, and she’s trying to pull my hand away from his throat.
I release him. Reluctantly.
Death stumbles back and rubs his throat, glaring at me, but I no longer care about him.
Rhianelle throws herself at me. We collide, and I catch her, pulling her hard against my chest.
For one glorious moment, there is only her. Her arms around me. Her face buried against my neck. Her heartbeat beneath my hand.
Then the truth hits me.
If she is here, she must be dead.
“What are you doing here, little fawn?” I breathe into her hair.
“You don’t get to leave me,” she sobs against my chest. “We just found each other again. We just…”
Her voice breaks.
I pull back enough to really look at her. She’s exhausted. Ash and tears streak her pale face. Her clothes are torn. Blood smears the scrapes across both hands, and her eyes are swollen and red from crying.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I love you,” she says, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me down to her. “I love you, Svenn. I got my memories back. All of them. Everything we had and everything we were. I couldn’t let you go.”
I cannot bear another word. I close the distance between us and press my mouth to hers. My hand catches the back of her neck to kiss her harder. She answers it without hesitation, her body pressed against mine like she’s trying to merge us into one person.
“You came for me,” I whisper against her lips because I can’t quite believe it.
“Of course I did,” she whispers back, her hands tightening around me.
“Well, this is touching.” Death is watching us with an expression that’s mildly amused and wholly irritated. He is one of the Un. I recognize the danger.
“I found him,” Rhianelle says, facing him bravely. “You have to let us go. That was the deal.”
“Oh, the deal,” Death says, tilting his head. “I said if you found him, you could take him back. I never specified when. I could make you wait a century or a millennium. I could make you both wait here forever.”
Rhianelle’s face falls for just a moment. Then she turns and buries herself against my chest, her arms winding around me. I feel her exhale slowly.
“All right,” she says quietly. “Then I’ll stay. I don’t mind. I found him. That’s enough.”
Death’s expression hardens. “Unfortunately, we have a problem.”
I move in front of Rhianelle again, shielding her with my body. “What problem?”
“The problem is that Rhianelle doesn’t belong here,” Death says slowly, his expression turning serious. “It’s not her time. She needs to return to the land of the living.”
My eyes widen.
She is alive.
Relief crashes through me. Then comes the pain, because if she is alive, she cannot stay with me. She has to return. She has to live.
“No,” Rhianelle says immediately. She doesn’t turn to look at him and burrows deeper into my chest. “No, I’m not leaving.”
“Rhianelle—” Death starts.
Death looks at me over the top of her head, his pale eyes expectant. He wants me to talk sense into her.
I do not give a fuck what Death wants. But I care about what Rhianelle deserves, even if giving it to her means losing her again.
“He is right,” I say, even though the words feel like knives in my throat. “Rhianelle, you need to live. You spent centuries trapped in the realm of the gods in Astefar. You have barely had the chance to live for yourself.”
“No,” she says again and her grip on me tightens. “No. I’m not leaving you.”
She’s shaking now, her whole body trembling against mine.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. “Sweetheart—”
“No,” she says a third time. “I’m staying. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what he says. I’m staying with you.”
Her voice is muffled against my chest but absolutely firm. A selfish, desperate part of me is glad.
Death sighs. “All right then. Let me show you something.”
He waves his hand, and the gray desert around us shifts.
In the distance, a massive gate appears.
The towering structure is made of bone and shadow.
From it, souls are streaming in a steady flow.
They pour through the gate in an endless wave, stumbling into the realm of the dead with confused, terrified expressions.
“Do you see that?” Death asks, and there’s something almost angry in his voice now. “That’s the result of the war. Every second, more souls arrive. Elves. Fae. Orcs. Dwarves. Humans caught in the crossfire.”
Beyond the gate, I catch broken glimpses of the living world. Cities burn while armies collide below. Bodies lie scattered across ruined fields.
The gate shudders under the weight of them, soul after soul after soul pouring through without stopping.
Rhianelle’s grip on me loosens slightly. But she keeps her face hidden against my chest.
“You could stop it,” he continues. “The Elven Queen who can summon the monsters and ancient fae in Astefar. You could save them and end the war. You could prevent tens of thousands of deaths.”
Death’s gaze turns cold. “But instead, you’re choosing to stay here. In the land of the dead. Where you don’t belong.”
Still, Rhianelle doesn’t respond, her arms locked tight around me.
“How many lives is he worth?” Death asks again. “Is that really the choice you want to make?”
“I’m staying here with Svenn,” Rhianelle says, her voice muffled but clear.
Death stares at her back, and I can see the frustration building on his face. He’s used to people fearing him and accepting his judgment.
“You cannot stay. There are consequences. Your people, your kingdom, the balance of—”
He keeps talking.
Rhianelle’s breathing slows and her fingers curl into my coat the way they do when she is shutting everything else out. Death lists every reason she should leave. He tries once more, something about duty and sacrifice, but Rhianelle has already stopped hearing him.
I watch all of this in silence as she chooses me. She chooses us, despite everything.
I think about the story Blaire told once, about a six-year-old Rhianelle.
How her family was going to slaughter the villagers when they found out what they did to her.
How little Rhianelle, barely more than a child, lied for years to protect the innocents.
How she bargained with monsters just to stay alive.
She chose to stay for nine hundred years in Astefar, enduring the twisted forest’s torments and darkness.
All to save people she didn’t even know.
That is six-year-old selfless Rhianelle. Here she is now, standing in the realm of the dead, being told she could save thousands of lives if she just leaves.
Yet, she’s saying no.
Rhianelle’s choosing me over the world.
She’s ready to let the whole fucking world burn just to be with me.
“You’re being selfish. Shame on you, Rhianelle Wiolant!” Death is shouting but I don’t hear the fucker.
I stare down at Rhianelle. At this incredible girl who’s gripping me tightly. She’s shaking against me and crying now but her grip doesn’t loosen.
I feel something crack in my chest. It opens like a door I didn’t know existed suddenly swinging wide.
She truly loves me.
Gods.
Gods.
I reach down and gently pull her arms away from my torso. She resists at first, making a small sound of protest.
“Rhianelle,” I say softly. “Look at me.”
“No,” she says stubbornly, trying to burrow back into my chest. “You’ll try to convince me to leave and I won’t. I won’t—”
“Look at me,” I repeat and I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up.
Her eyes meet mine. Red-rimmed and wet with tears but fierce. So fierce.
I was going to ask if she was sure. If this was really what she wanted. If she understood what she was giving up.
But looking into those lilac eyes, I see the answer.
Rhianelle knows exactly what she’s choosing. She is absolutely, unshakably determined to stay.
I smile at her. I can’t help it. “I’m not leaving you, Rhianelle. If you want to stay here, then we stay here. Together.”
Her eyes widen. “Svenn…”