40. Chapter Forty
CHAPTER FORTY
MORTE
A loud knock echoes through the small house, the door rattling on its hinges, and I bolt upright, my eyes darting to Wilder, then to Emeric. I push myself up, stare wide, scrutiny fixed on the door. The knock comes again, louder this time, followed by a voice—a voice that sends a chill down my spine.
“This was certainly not what I was expecting.”
“It reeks of sex, even from out here,” another voice calls. “Thought we’d knock, rather than barge into our home.”
Emeric’s eyes meet mine, a flash of recognition in his them, his body going rigid. “Gravewoken,” he murmurs, the word barely a breath past his lips.
My head snaps to the door. “The Gravewoken?” I whisper. This is their home? “Looks like we’ve got company,” I mutter, my heart thundering as I reach for my clothes, my attention locked on the door, the metal groaning under the weight of another knock. “Hang on!” I call out.
We quickly dress, scrambling to make ourselves presentable, exchanging worried glances.
Emeric is the first to the door. He glances back at us, eyes scanning to ensure we’re fully dressed before turning back around, throwing the lock, and yanking the metal open.
Four reapers stand on the other side, hoods pulled over their heads, not even the bright light of day breaches the darkness within their cowls. Their scythes gleam in the morning sun, and the air seems to shimmer, as if reality bends to their will. A chill runs down my spine as their empty gazes sweep over us.
“Good to see you again, Phoenix.”
There’s a deep gravel to his voice, and I recognize it as the same one who said something similar the last time.
“You keep saying that, but I’m afraid I don’t remember you other than in the cave.” I swallow, grief getting caught in my throat at the memory.
I don’t see his face, but I feel a ghost of a smile as he studies me. “That may be so, but we’ve met—tens of thousands of times.”
I suck in a breath. “What?” I close the distance, stopping just behind Emeric. Wilder slides an arm around my waist, tucking me into his side.
“The price of a bargain struck. We’re who sends your soul back every time you die.”
The revelation hits me like a punch to the gut. My legs feel weak, and I’m grateful for Wilder’s steadying arm. “But I don’t remember?—”
“No, you wouldn’t,” another of the reapers answers. “You and the rest of the phoenixes never remember the in-between.”
“The in-between?” Wilder asks.
Another reaper nods slowly, his hood barely moving. “It’s where all souls are sorted. Some, we ferry beyond the veil. Others,” he gestures behind him, “come here. But you?”
“Always get sent back,” their leader says.
I feel dizzy, overwhelmed. “As do the other phoenixes.”
The leader inclines his head, his scythe catching the sunlight as he shifts. “I’m Rook.” He points to the others. “Cyris, Oryx, and Sevrin.”
“Emeric and Wilder,” I volunteer, gesturing to my mates, and the Gravewoken chuckle, a horrifying, nightmarish sound that comes from everywhere and nowhere at once .
“We know.”
“Oh, right.” I wave my hand around the space. “Sorry about borrowing the house. We fixed a few things up.” And did a whole host of other things I’m not going to admit out loud.
Rook waves a dismissive hand, his tattooed fingers catching the light, but I can’t quite make out the art. "The house is of no concern to us. We have more pressing matters to discuss."
I feel Wilder tense beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. Emeric takes a half-step forward, his stance protective.
Rook's hood turns slightly, and I can feel his unseen eyes boring into me. “Why are you all the way out here? Looking to broker a deal?”
Something sours in my gut at the thought of the deal Aggonid made with them. I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “Yes.”
Rook tilts his head, the motion eerily birdlike. “Unsatisfied with four mates?”
I feel my cheeks flush with heat. “What? No! That’s not—I mean …”
A low, rattling chuckle emerges from beneath Rook's hood. “Gods, that’s not what I meant. We’ve known you since you were just a toddler.” A shudder runs through him. “You want Azazel’s soul back.”
My heart skitters inside its bars, the ache nearly sending me to my knees at hearing his name aloud. I want to capture it, cradle it in my chest and nurture it back to life.
I feel my breath catch in my throat, a lump swelling there. "How did you know?"
Rook's hood shifts, and I can almost imagine a wry smile beneath it. "We're the Gravewoken, Phoenix. There's little that escapes our notice, especially when it comes to souls. We know yours well. Your motivations. Your hopes. Your dreams.” He pauses. “The way it feels in our hands when you’re heartbroken. When you’re desperate. In love. Untethered."
Rook remains silent for a moment, his hooded figure unnervingly still. Then, he turns to his companions, a wordless communication passing between them. Cyris, the smallest of the group, though taller than any one of us, steps forward.
Cyris's voice is softer than Rook's, almost melodic. "We can sense the fracture in your soul, Phoenix. The piece that was torn away when Azazel ..." They trail off, perhaps sensing the raw pain that lances through me at the reminder.
I force myself to stand taller, willing my voice not to shake. "Then you know why I'm here."
Rook turns back to me, his hood dipping slightly in what might be acknowledgment. "Willing, perhaps. But are you able? The price for a soul is?—”
“We’re exchanging two souls for his.” Emeric pulls Aggonid’s necklace from his pocket.
Rook's hooded head snaps towards Emeric, his sudden movement startling in its swiftness. "Two souls? There’s—" He stops abruptly, his unseen stare fixed on the necklace dangling from Emeric's fingers. “His parents.”
Sevrin sucks in a breath. “For thousands of years, Aggonid’s carried these, paid a very heavy price?—”
“I already know what he paid,” I hiss, pushing through them to stand out in the sun, to do something to warm the ache in me as the memory of what Aggie did to save them.
Wilder and Emeric follow close behind me as I spin on the reapers.
“Do you know where his soul is?” I raise my voice.
Rook's hood shifts slightly, as if he's considering my question carefully. "We know of many souls, Phoenix. But the one you seek ... it's not as simple as you might think."
I clench my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. "What do you mean? Either you know where Azazel's soul is, or you don't."
Cyris steps forward again, his melodic voice tinged with something that might be sympathy. "Souls aren't static things, Phoenix. They shift, change, sometimes fragment. Especially souls as ... complex as Azazel’s. But the location is not the issue here. It's the retrieval.”
I rake a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands as if pain might settle my frustration. "What do you mean? We have the payment. Two souls for one. The former king and queen of the fucking underworld. Isn't that enough?"
Rook's hood tilts, and I can almost feel his contemplation boring into me. "Enough? Perhaps. But the question isn't just of value, Phoenix. It's of balance."
I open my mouth to argue, but Cyris raises a hand, silencing me. "The souls you offer are ancient, powerful. But we need something more."
"More? I’ve already given you my life thousands of times over!" I spit out, taking a step closer to the reapers. "Gods, I don't care about the cosmic balance or whatever bullshit you're peddling. What I care about is getting my fucking mate back from this fucking river!” I throw my hands wide, spittle flying from my lips.
“A simple request.” Oryx reaches a hand out, as though to beg me to listen.
“What?” I breathe, cupping the back of my neck with my hands, trying to self soothe.
Rook sighs. “Many years from now, we’ll ferry someone to the Underworld who we need you to look out for. Keep her safe. Can you do that?”
I pause, taken aback. My eyes narrow as I study the reapers, searching for any sign of deception. "That's it? Just ... look out for someone?" I let out a laugh. “You want me to… babysit someone? In the underworld?”
“Not babysit,” Cyrus interjects, narrowing his eyes at my hellhound mate who looks two seconds away from dragging it out of them. “Protect. This soul will be … important.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration giving way to confusion. “Important how? And why me?”
“She won’t deserve the torture denizens get here. Only you and your mates can prevent her from enduring that fate,” Oryx explains.
I shake my head, still struggling to grasp their request. Whatever it is, I’ll do it if it means I get Azazel, but I need to understand the repercussions. “Who is she? ”
Rook’s hood tilts towards the ground for a moment before rising. “Our soul bond.”
I freeze, my mind reeling at the implications. "Your ... soul bond? All four of you?" I ask, incredulous. As far as I know, that’s not possible. It’s never happened. Two is unheard of, only happening once that I know of, but four ?
Cyris nods solemnly. "Yes. She is destined to be our mate, but her path to us is ... complicated."
"Complicated, how?" I press, curiosity momentarily overriding my desperation to get Azazel back.
Oryx steps forward, his hand reaching out as if to touch my shoulder before thinking better of it. "She will be born human, live a human life. But her soul ... her soul belongs here.”
“Fuck,” Emeric breathes.
I can't help but share Emeric's sentiment. This is beyond anything I expected when I came here seeking Azazel's return. A human destined to be the soul bond of four reapers? It's … unfathomable.
And perhaps, a little unnerving. Could I have more soul bonds? Guilt stirs inside me, because now I understand. I understand how Aggie could’ve condemned me before he met me. If there are more bonds out there waiting to find me, I don’t want them. I have my mates, and as soon as I get Az back, all will be right again.
"How long?" I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. "How long until she arrives here?"
Rook's shadowy form seems to flicker in and out, as though in deep thought. "Time moves differently between realms. For us, it could be tomorrow. For her, it may be decades."
I drag my hands over my face, trying to process this information before bending at the waste, propping my palms on my knees as I glance up at them. "And if I promise to do this, you’ll give me Azazel.”
“In exchange for two souls.” Rook gestures to Emeric’s hand, where the necklace dangles from his fingers.
I stare at the necklace, the tapered pendants catching just enough light to highlight their uneven edges, like fragments of a fractured night sky. The cords look aged and worn, frayed in places, as if they’ve borne the strain of millennia. The stones seem alive, their surface rippling hazily, as though something restless stirs within. A pale glow emanates from the core of each pendant, pulsing in an uneven rhythm that makes my skin crawl.
I can’t stop wondering what it must be like to exist in there—trapped, aware, waiting. Aggonid’s parents, bound in a prison that isn’t solid yet feels impenetrable. Though, the thought warms me, the energy of the necklace almost tangible, like it’s daring me to touch it. Almost like it feels a kinship with me, like they’d reach out if they could—grateful, perhaps, that I paid the price for their freedom once, even if we’ve never met.
“Alright.” I straighten, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll make sure we don’t torture your soul bond when she arrives. Do you know her name?”
Rook's form wavers, as if caught in a breeze. "Names have power," he says, his voice a low whisper that seems to reverberate through the air. "Her true name is not for us to know. Not yet."
A chill runs down my spine. Of course, it wouldn't be that simple.
“How will I know who she is if you don’t even know her name?”
An amused huff escapes Rook, a sound like rustling leaves. “For one, she’ll be human.”
I cup the back of my neck. “Right, sorry.” Too little sleep and no caffeine.
“She’ll also carry the mark of our kind—a pattern on her skin, like shifting light and shadow, something that sets her apart as tethered to death’s domain, but never its prisoner.”
I try to commit the description to memory. A human with a mark—it's not much to go on, but it's a start. It’s not unheard of for humans to end up in the underworld—they’re a dangerous lot, more monster than man—but they don’t last very long.
“And what about Azazel?” I gesture towards the river behind them. “How do I get his soul back?”
Rook’s form shimmers, his edges blurring like smoke. “Walk the veil between realms—the in-between—and call to him with memories. ”
“How do I do that?” I whisper.
“Spill your blood into the water.”
I stare at the dark, swirling river in the distance, my heart beating a war drum in my chest. “Okay.”
I turn to face my mates. “Let’s bring him home.”
The Gravewoken walk with us to the river, and we stand at its banks, watching as souls eddy by, the currents whispering ancient secrets that brush against my skin. The necklace feels heavier in my hand as Wilder and Emeric step up beside me, their presence grounding.
Rook, Sevrin, Cyris, and Oryx stand in eerie stillness near us, their forms blending with the mist rolling off the water as haunting cries spill from its banks.
I approach the edge, the souls inside the necklace pulsing gently, almost in rhythm with the river’s flow. The energy stirs against my palm, as though the souls within sense what’s to come. A rush of warmth radiates from the stones, and for the briefest moment, it feels like a touch—gentle, fleeting, like a quiet thank you.
Sevrin’s shapeless frame leans forward, his attention fixed on the glowing necklace. “Are you prepared to release them?” His voice echoes softly, a distant chime carried on the wind.
I swallow hard. “Okay.” My fingers curl tighter around the necklace as I step closer to the water. “What do I need to do?”
Rook’s hood shifts slightly as he inclines his head. “Hold it to the river. The current will guide them.”
The necklace grows warmer in my hand, and I lift it, lowering it until the stone almost kisses the surface of the river. A wave of light spreads, refracting through the river like liquid diamonds, as every soul stirs, rising in unison. My heart thunders as the Gravewoken begin to chant in low, resonant tones that vibrate through me.
The light from the necklace brightens, spilling into the water in beams of gold and white. Slowly, like morning mist lifting from a valley, the forms of two souls begin to emerge. Wisps of light swirl upward, weaving together in a dance of radiant energy. The figures take shape, vaguely fae like but still ethereal, their features blurred yet unmistakably filled with warmth.
A sob catches in my throat as the souls hover before me, their energy brushing against my skin in a way that feels almost like an embrace. Gratitude pours from them, a silent flood of emotion that overwhelms me, wrapping around me like a cocoon. I can feel their thanks, their peace, their joy at finally being free.
“Go.” The words that spill from my lips are broken. “Be at peace.”
The souls drift toward the river, their forms glowing brighter as they begin to dissolve into the flowing current. But before they disappear entirely, they circle me, Wilder, and Emeric, their light spiraling gently around us. My breath hitches as one of the souls pauses, its energy brushing against my hand, as though it’s giving me something—a memory, an acknowledgment. I can’t describe it, but it feels as though they’re promising they’ll never truly leave.
Then they slip into the water, merging with the river’s flow, their light trailing downstream until it fades entirely. The chanting of the Gravewoken ceases, and silence falls, broken only by the quiet murmur of the current. As though the other souls, too, are content.
Tears spill down my cheeks, my heart swelling with both sorrow and gratitude. I sink to my knees at the edge of the river, my fingers dipping into the cold water where they disappeared. Wilder crouches beside me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder, while Emeric stands silent, his stare fixed on the horizon.
“They’re free,” I whisper, my voice breaking. The weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying lifts, replaced by a bittersweet peace.
Rook walks across the water without touching it, his shadowed figure towering above us. “You’ve done what few have the courage to attempt. Their freedom is a gift they will carry forever.”
I blink, unable to speak, the words trapped in my throat. As the Gravewoken retreat into the mist, I stay by the river’s edge, the memory of their gratitude etched into my soul.