Chapter 16
Elariya
“Leaving The Land of The Dead”
The walls dissolved like watercolors bleeding into rain.
The windows became hollow eyes that blinked once and vanished.
The floorboards beneath our feet turned translucent, then gossamer-thin, melting into shadow and mist.
Wood and stone became smoke, drifting apart until they were nothing more than whispers of what had been.
Fearing I’d either fall into the depths of some abyss or fade away, I gripped Wolfe’s hand tighter and moved closer, pressing myself against him.
But we were still on solid ground. It was just that everything else around us was moving.
Within moments, the room where we’d stood and the house were gone, leaving only the memory of it behind.
Gods, it had been an illusion. All of it.
The smoke surrounding us cleared, revealing a baren wasteland surrounded by the still dead waters of the sea. Gone was the green forest, the sandy beach, and the brightening sky that was still lit by the twin suns. It didn’t look much different from Morg?ven.
I gripped Wolfe's hand. His ghostly, skeletal face loomed above me, all sharp bone and hollow shadows where his eyes should have been.
My stomach lurched, every instinct screaming at me to flee, but it was better to trust the devil I knew than the one we were about to meet.
Movement across from us caught my eye. I turned, and it was only then I realized Arielle and the others were with us.
Arielle smiled at me and pointed ahead.
I looked and spotted a beautiful ship with white sails approaching a wooden dock that hadn’t been there before.
My gaze drifted back to the ship. It was the one I’d described in my journal—Wolfe’s ship. I’d been on it before. That was how I’d gotten to Galaythia last time.
My spirits lifted as the ship drew closer, but the feeling was short-lived.
A thick black mass appeared paces away from us, unfolding like smoke given malevolent form.
From within the darkness, a giant figure cloaked in black emerged, his face a grotesque marriage of bone and corrupted moon-white flesh.
The Reaper.
I needed no introduction. He stood before us, staring with eye sockets like twin voids that seemed to drink in the meagre light around us.
Gods above, I could scarcely breathe. He was a nightmare given form.
And he was smiling at us, rows of jagged, sharp teeth exposed. The horrific sight made my soul want to flee.
“Hullo there, ol friend,” he addressed Wolfe with a gravelly voice and an accent that sounded like the Northern folks back home. “The look suits you.”
“My Lord Azriel,” Wolfe replied with a respectful dip of his head. “I am deeply grateful for your extensive hospitality. I owe you.”
“Yes, you do owe me, Wolfe Nightblade.” He looked at each of us, but then his gaze settled on me, freezing me in place. “Of course, those like yourself who are touched by death are welcome in the Land of the Dead whenever they please, but the living… and a human, not so much.”
“I’m aware. We have our tithes ready. I ask for safe passage to leave your realm. Will you allow it?”
As grotesque as he was, I couldn’t look away from his nightmarish face.
What if he said no?
What would we do then?
The Reaper’s smile widened. “Your father was a good ally, young Nightblades.” He looked from Wolfe to Alaric. “For this, I have offered you respite and will allow you passage to leave, but I will never bend the rules like this again.”
“I understand, my Lord.”
“It is rather tempting, though...” The Reaper returned his gaze to me. “Tempting to keep the human. The half human, half mage girl.”
The air fled my lungs in a strangled gasp, and my knees nearly buckled. I never considered that he might just want to keep me.
“No,” I spoke up and shook my head. “I do not belong here. And I will not stay.”
The bravado in my tone shocked me, but it was the sound of a person speaking from the heart of desperation and the need to survive.
“Brave human.” His grin became even more sickly. “It appears you know not with whom you speak. I could keep you if I wanted to.”
Wolfe stood taller, and his shadows flicked out like flames. “But you will not keep her, Reaper. As you can see, she is mine.”
He held up our joined hands.
The Reaper cocked his head. “I see.”
“Then there is no fight here. I have already claimed her.”
Claimed. Belonging. Possession.
It all made my head spin.
“I see that, too.” Pools of darkness rippled around him as he moved closer. “But I wonder what your human will do when you return to the Land of the Dead.”
The shiver in my nerves multiplied. The Reaper stared at Wolfe, looking him over with fascination that churned my stomach.
“You are mistaken, my Lord.” Wolfe shook his head. “I won’t be passing this way again anytime soon.”
The Reaper simple stared. “We shall see about that. Death looks good on you, your Grace.”
That was the first time I’d heard anyone call him that.
The title was meant to be spoken with reverence and respect, but it sounded like a mockery. A deadly taunt meant to strike the wrong nerves and cause a stir. But Wolfe remained calm.
The Reaper stepped aside and beckoned us forward. “You may go. All of you.” Those hollow eyes drifted to me again.
Wolfe motioned for Arielle and the others to go first.
I didn’t miss the protective way Bastian took Arielle’s hand and marched forward.
The intent behind his grip was clear—nothing and no one would be taking her away from him.
He paid the Reaper four coins. Two for each of them, as was customary. Then he proceeded toward the dock, never looking back.
Alaric and Garrick followed next. Both glanced back at us when they paid their tithes.
Wolfe nodded, telling them silently to continue.
They did.
Wolfe looked back at the Reaper, who still bore that deranged expression on his horrific face. It was like he was privy to a secret none of us knew.
He stretched out his hand and wiggled his skeletal fingers. “Just payment for her. You will not need it.”
I wanted to ask why but knew the answer.
He’d said it before. Those touched by death were welcome in the Land of the Dead whenever they pleased.
The thought that Wolfe was touched by death unsettled me.
Not because I was scared of him. I just didn’t want him to have any part of it. Of this.
I didn’t want him to belong here.
He handed the Reaper two coins and pulled me closer.
“Until next time, then, ol friend,” the Reaper said, his eyes flicking from Wolfe to me.
Wolfe didn’t answer. He just guided me forward, his head held high and grip tighter around my hand.
We followed the others. My legs grew heavy with every step as though I were walking through a tar pit.
The Reaper’s presence clung to my back like a cold palm pressed between my shoulder blades.
I was tempted to look back, but I dared not. I knew now what nightmare would be staring back at me. I didn’t want to remember that.
The Reaper chuckled behind us, the sound scraping over my bones. My pulse hammered so hard I tasted iron.
“Just keep walking, Ziyka,” Wolfe muttered under his breath, lacing his fingers through mine.
The deepened contact was warm and comforting in a way his monstrous shape shouldn’t have allowed. Shadows still wreathed around him, smoke-wings rippling at his back, and yet the only thing that anchored me was his hand.
I glanced at him out the corner of my eye. He looked at me for a heartbeat then fixed his gaze ahead at the ship.
The tension in his form suggested he was prepared to fight if he needed to. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Moments later—that felt like several lifetimes—we reached the end of the dock, where the ship waited. Up close, it was more beautiful than it had been in the distance.
More importantly, it was our means to escape.
We went up the gangplank and boarded the ship. As soon as we were all onboard, the dock disappeared and fog drifted over the land.
I chanced looking back at the Reaper. But he was gone.
Then the fog swallowed everything else, erasing it from my view. The land was gone. The trees were gone. No one would have known there’d been an island there seconds ago.
Footsteps pulled my attention back to the ship. The captain approached us.
He was an older male Fae with long graying hair and a tough but lanky build.
A weathered brown jacket hung from his shoulders, and a fluffy gray pelt was draped over one shoulder. He looked like a sea merchant.
He acknowledged each of us, but his eyes riveted to Wolfe with unmistaken surprise. And I was certain fear was there, too, as he took in his wraith-like form.
Still, the old male Fae bowed. Deeply. Respectfully.
It was the kind of bow that showed abounding, unconditional loyalty.
“Your Grace,” he said. When he met Wolfe’s eyes again, he seemed more at ease. “Quite a place you have me sailing to, my boy.”
Wolfe inclined his head. “Thanks for coming, Kaem.”
“No worries.” Kaem dipped his head then looked at me and smiled. “A pleasure to see you again, Lady of the Ravenwood.”
Gods, he knew me. This was one of those situations Grandmother warned me about. Where I’d have to pretend to know a person to keep my curse secret.
“And you, my Lord,” I answered, giving him a small smile.
Though his face brightened, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes told me he knew something was off with me.
“We need to leave at once,” Wolfe said, stopping any further pleasantries. “We can talk later.”
Kaem nodded. “That’s the very best thing I’ve heard you say, my boy. Prepare to set sail.”
He stretched out his hands, and the ship shuddered beneath us. The sails snapped as if caught by a wind, though there was none.
I realized straightaway he was using magic.
The dead sea opened a path, smooth as glass, and the ship began to glide forward.
Only then did Wolfe release my hand.
I’d held on for so long it felt odd to be free of him.
His shadows began to peel away, and the swarm of darkness receded.
The skeletal shape softened. Bone became skin. Then the hollows became eyes—those bright, violent shades of cobalt that made my blood stir and my senses sharpen all at once.
His smokey wings dissolved then vanished entirely, leaving only the male Fae warrior.
But the monster was still within him. I sensed those Deathwalker powers stronger than before.
He exhaled through his nose, jaw tense, as if holding himself together cost something.
I realized it did. He was still weak, still healing. What effort had it taken for him to summon those dark powers and maintain them in the face of death?
“Arielle, take care of Elariya,” he instructed. “I must speak with the Bloodsworn.”
“Of course.” Arielle nodded and moved to my side.
I stared at Wolfe, wondering what would happen to us from here onwards.
But he simply turned away from me and walked ahead. Bastian and the guys followed, leaving us behind.
Was this it?
Was this how we’d be on the journey home—apart.
There was so much more to say.
And yet… silence was best.
There was nothing either of us could say to the other that wouldn’t hurt or feel confusing.
The sea rolled silently beneath us. The ship hummed. Somewhere behind us, the fog closed like a mouth.
Arielle slipped an arm around me as though she could sense my troubled thoughts and gave me a reassuring hug.
But I couldn’t stop myself from gazing at Wolfe’s retreating form.