Page 89 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
It had been Hagan who had filled that hollow space.
Hagan, who had knelt beside him to clean the wounds and bruises left behind by the king’s hands. Hagan, who had stayed when the tears came, steady and wordless, until the shaking stopped and the world felt bearable again. No one else had done that for him. No one else had seen him in his weakness and chosen to stay.
Perhaps that was why Ash had been selfish.
Perhaps that was why he had kept Hagan close, even after learning the truth. Why he had clung to him when he should have pushed him away. Why hatred had never truly taken root in his heart, not even when Hagan had murdered the king and queen.
Because somewhere deep inside, Ash had understood it.
He had seen the act not only as treachery, but as vengeance. A reckoning for years of neglect. For years of cold indifference and quiet cruelty. For all the ways they had failed him.
For all the ways they had failed Alina too.
‘I amnotyou,’ he said again, louder this time, as if raising his voice might anchor the truth in place.
‘But you are,’ Thanatos replied, unflinching.
‘No.’ Ash shook his head, sharp and desperate, as though the motion itself could fracture the thought before it took root. ‘Because if I am… it m-means that I am not real. That I do n-not ma-matter.’
Thanatos sighed, a sound older than weariness, and finally turned to face him. For the first time, the cold certainty in his features softened, just a little.
‘None of us truly matter,’ he said quietly. ‘That has always been the greatest lie of all—believing we do. The world does not pause for us, Ash Acheron. It does not stop turning, whether we exist or not.’
Before Ash could answer, a subtle shift in the air made his skin prickle. Thanatos’ black eyes flicked to something behind him, widening for the briefest heartbeat before his expression settled back into its familiar mask of indifference.
Ash turned.
Mal stood at the far end of the path that led back to the keep, still as a blade drawn but not yet swung. Those purple eyes were narrowed, sharp with thought, her gaze sliding from Ash to Thanatos and back again, weighing them both.
She began to walk towards them, slow and deliberate.
And Ash could not help the small, bitter satisfaction that sparked in his chest when Mal shot Thanatos a look that could have cut stone—before dismissing him entirely, as if he were nothing more than a shadow she had already stepped beyond.
‘Melinoe…’
‘Leave,’ she said, teeth clenched, the word sharpened by fury. ‘Are you not busy following your master’s orders?’
Thanatos’ shoulders drew tight, as if struck by an unseen blow. He lingeredfor a heartbeat, then released a quiet sigh and turned away without a word. Ash noticed how Mal shifted, a subtle step forward, as though she had expected resistance, expected Death to bare his teeth and argue. But he did not. He walked straight into the sea, the dark waves swallowing him whole until there was nothing left but churning water and the echo of his absence.
Silence rushed in to fill the space he had left behind.
‘Why was he here?’ Mal asked at last. Her voice was calm, almost careless, but Ash heard the blade hidden beneath it.
‘He comes to check on you,’ Ash replied.
He did not miss the way her purple eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering there like a struck match. She did not call him a liar. She did not press. She knew—he realised—that the full truth would never come from either of them.
It should have saddened him.
Instead, Ash told himself it was mercy.
‘How do your visions work?’
The question caught him off guard. Mal had never asked before, and Ash had never volunteered the truth. It had always felt safer that way. Knowledge shaped choices, and choices bent paths and Ash had seen far too many futures crumble beneath well-meant interference.
‘They’re like win-windows,’ he said at last. ‘I can look through them and see endless possibilities for each p-person.’
She stepped closer as he spoke, close enough that her presence warmed his side. ‘And the gods?’ she asked, her fingers closing around his arm. ‘Do they have windows too?’
