He Stayed
—EDEN
Afew drops of my blood, and he just threatened his brothers’ lives.
Silence hangs in the meadow, color draining from the world around us, vibrant green grass turning sickly gray before being sucked into the void.
War is the first to move, his armor creaking. He inclines his helmet to Rasen. “We overstepped,” he says quietly. “Forgive us, brother.”
Pestilence’s beak tilts, studying the circle still spreading from Rasen’s knees. “We only wanted—”
“I know what you wanted,” Rasen rasps. “But not like this. Not by threatening her.”
Death doesn’t bother to say anything, turning on his horse and fading back into the mist.
The other two follow behind him.
The circle around Rasen slowly bleeds back into the natural green of the meadow as he pulls the void back into himself. His fangs retract, but the smear of my blood on the corner of his mouth is like a neon sign flashing in the dull morning.
Sage’s wings give a violent snap. The thick vines around Rasen constrict until I can hear his bones crack.
“Sage, stop!” I cry, reaching out to grab the edge of his wing. “They’re gone. It’s over.”
“It’s not over, Eden,” Sage rasps. He didn’t stand up for you. He stood up for the source. He’s just guarding his next meal.”
I flinch backward.
Rasen looks up, his pupils gradually merging back to normal. He makes no attempt to fight the vines or Sage.
“The source?” I repeat. “Is that all you think I am? A well you’re afraid someone else is going to drink from?”
Sage stiffens, the left side of his face flickering several times.
Rasen watches me with sympathetic eyes. “He didn’t mean it that way, Eden.” A thin trail of dark smoke escapes his lips. “He is just… territorial. I would be the same way if it were my mate. Any of us would.”
“But she’s not your mate,” Sage roars, his wings clamping tightly against his back. “And I would never be so disrespectful as to sink my fangs into your soulbond.”
Sage reaches for my wrist, his fingers hovering just inches from the bite mark.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “If you cannot understand why I did what I did, then you do not know me at all.”
The house lets out a low, mournful groan behind us.
“Eden, please, try to understand what this is like for me,” he rasps. “I can smell him all over and… Ashán will not let it go. I am trying… so hard.”
“Do not follow me, Sage. I want to be alone.”
So many emotions are flooding through me at once. If it wasn’t for gravity pressing down on me, I think I’d float away.
The grass feels static beneath my feet. The closer I get to Nook, the more it leans toward me, its wooden eaves drooping like weeping branches.
It wants to comfort me, to pull me into its warm, cozy-scented heart, but right now, it’s just an extension of him.
I walk by, giving the wall a small pat as I continue.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper. “I just need to clear my head.”
Nook lets out a muffled, wood-creaking groan, dropping a soft shower of dried lavender blossoms from its eaves into my hair before letting me go.
The silence of the meadow is broken by a sound that twists my stomach: a low, guttural howl that shakes the ground.
Do not look back. If you see the look in Sage’s eyes, you will fold.
I reach the edge of the woods and lean against a large cedar tree, its bark rough but comforting against my back. I lift my wrist, studying the twin pinpricks.
“You should have stayed in the shower, Sage,” I whisper.
A twig snaps somewhere in the distance. Therael steps out from behind one of the large trunks.
“The house is crying, Eden.”
“I know. I told Nook I would be back before I left.”
“It has been a very loud morning for an old man who just wanted to teach some rooting lessons.”
“You don’t look any older than I am.”
“Ah,” he smiles wistfully. “The perk of being a god. All six of us stopped aging once we hit twenty-five. The same will happen to you once you seal your bond with Sage.”
“Did you see?” I ask hesitantly.
“I felt the surge of his power, but when I got here, you had already left.” His nostrils flare, and his eyes move over me before stopping at my wrist. “Mm. I think I understand, Little Empath.”
I tuck my wrist behind my back. “Well, you’d be the only one.”
“Come sit.” He gestures to the moss-covered log.
I hesitate.
He lowers himself onto the mossy log with the slow grace of a falling leaf.
“Sit, Eden. The trees will hide your scent for a few moments. They owe me a favor for the last pruning.”
I sink onto the log. Minutes pass before either of us says anything.
“You do understand what Sage is, correct?” he murmurs.
“I’ve been awake for a few days. I don’t even understand what I am,” I answer truthfully.
“Sage is the first of his kind,” Therael answers. “His kind normally does not survive rebirth. However, he is special.”
I nod in agreement.
“Though he is the first of his kin, there are many with reaper blood.” I don’t understand where this is going. “And I need you to know something, Eden.”
My eyes meet his.
“Had any one of them found their mate feeding another, regardless of the reason, they would not have been able to control the calling of the grave.”
“He was starving!” I shout. “I will not apologize for helping someone who was in need.”
“I am not your enemy, Eden. I do not tell you this because I think you have done wrong,” he says firmly. “I am telling you so you know that Sage did something impossible by letting Rasen go.”
“He let him go?” I peek at the meadow behind us.
“He did.”
My stomach twists in guilt, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s my own or Sage’s.
“Even if he let him go, there was no reason for him to hurt him in the first place,” I rebut.
Therael leans back and strokes his chin. He looks like a teacher waiting for me to understand the answer.
“No reason?” he hums. “Eden, to a Reaper, blood is the map of the soul. When Rasen tasted you, he did not just take a meal. He walked into the middle of Sage’s sanctuary and set a fire. The grave does not negotiate with fire. It smothers it.”
“But he did negotiate. He let him go.”
“He did.” Therael nods, a single leaf falling from his halo. “He fought every instinct programmed into his biology because you asked him to. He chose your mercy over his nature. That, Little Empath, is the most terrifying thing a monster can do.”
A shiver travels up my spine.
“I want to understand him, but he needs to understand that this isn’t something I can control… these feelings.”
Therael raises a brow at me, the corner of his lips lifting. It isn’t lost on me how hypocritical that statement is.
“If you were strolling through the meadow next week, and you found Sage kneeling with his fangs in another woman, how would you feel?”
My stomach drops before he even finishes the sentence.
“Rasen was starving… it was like his hunger was my own. It hurt.”
“That is not why you helped him.”
My eyebrows furrow.
“You did not feed him to ease your own pain, nor did you do it to stop the noise in your head, Eden. You did it because you cannot stand to see anyone in pain.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, his halo flickering through different hues of autumn.
“Tell me something, Eden,” he says finally. “When Sage found you sleeping in the meadow. What did he do?”
“He stayed,” I whisper.
“He stayed,” he murmurs. “He did not have to. A reaper has no obligation to the living. No instinct that says: stay, protect, watch over, keep her warm, sing her lullabies in case she can hear them.” He picks up a small stone from the ground and turns it over in his fingers.
“Sage is fighting something right now that you cannot see. Something that has nothing to do with Rasen or blood.”
He sets the stone down carefully.
“He is terrified,” Therael says quietly. “Not of losing you to a Horseman, but of losing you altogether. And there is a reason for that.”
He stands, as if yanked by something I can’t see.
“The grave negotiated today, because you asked it to. Remember that when you decide how angry to be.”
“Therael?” I ask, before he goes.
He turns, glancing at me over his shoulder.
“Can you keep my scent masked for a while longer?”
He studies me, a sad smile flashing across his face before he plucks a single cedar needle from the air.
“The meadow is a heavy shroud.” He crushes the needle between his fingers, and Sage’s scent settles over my skin like invisible silk. “He will not find you until you want to be found.”
He fades into the trees.
“But remember, Eden,” his voice echoes, sounding as if it’s coming from everywhere. “A mask only hides the face. It does not stop the heart from calling out. Eventually, the grave always finds its way home.”
Then he’s gone, and I am finally alone in the meadow. I lean my head against the tree, closing my eyes.
Why can I ease everyone’s pain but my own?
I don’t want to hurt Sage, but I can’t stand by and witness the Horsemen’s pain and not feel pulled to help.
Even that pompous War. His heart is bleeding.
I look at my wrist. The marks from Rasen’s fangs are cold now.
“I am not just a meal,” I whisper to the meadow.