Page 89 of Ruin of Revenants

That was a problem for later. The who, the why, the what that fae knew. I prayed Isoria and I would both be alive for that later, so I could rip her attacker limb from limb.

I glanced around my room and then at my rug, where I’d carried Isoria back with us. She lay utterly motionless, her body already cooling, leaving blood all over the plush carpet. My stomach twisted at the sight, my eyes determined to remind me that she was dead. If this didn’t work, one way or another, this would be for nothing and I’d be joining her soon enough. It was a miracle the bond hadn’t claimed me already.

At least I won’t see a world without her in it, I thought.

“You might want to leave now,” I warned Orchid. “This next part won’t be pleasant.” I hesitated, keeping my tone light, as if I didn’t feel like my soul had been shredded inside me and my bones filled with lead. “And if it does work, this rug is about to be ruined and you’ll want to kill me anyway.”

Orchid’s eyes narrowed. “Your Highness—”

“I’ll see you on the other side.”

The maid left uncertainly, clearly terrified and maybe believing I’d gone half-mad. As soon as her footsteps had retreated far enough to be out of hearing range, I lifted my blade.

Maybe all those sliced palms before were good for something, enough to help me override my survival instinct now, which still screamed at me despite knowing this was my only real chance.

“Mortius, I swear you haven’t won yet,” I spoke into the silence, knowing the god of death was listening. “You aren’t taking either of us to the afterlife.”

“Cheers to blood bonds and shared fates,” I muttered, and plunged the dagger into my chest. Pain lanced through my entire body, blood blooming from my wound. I whispered the words Scarlet had taught me: “Isoria Gildmere, may your magic take strength from my sacrifice and save us both.”

Collapsing beside her, I stared at my ceiling, the world turning hazy and my thoughts growing foggy. It was odd, sensing my pain melt into numbness vaster than the emotional kind that had claimed me regularly for so many days. I was growing disconnected from my own body, my vision tunneling.

Isoria’s sparks turned to flames dancing across her skin before leaping toward mine. Smoke burned my nose, my eyes, my lungs. Searing agony consumed me as my body was lit aflame and darkness descended.

Chapter Forty-Three

Isoria

I was immersed in darkness, my body weightless. All my pain had vanished, leaving me in blessed, soothing peace.

And then the world burst into flames, white-hot and searing, consuming my body in utter agony. Ragged screams tore from my throat, but they were soundless. I struggled in vain against the flames licking at me, finding that nothing moved at my command. My limbs floated uselessly around me, suspended in blackness.

It was an endless void, save for the fire devouring me.

Am I dead? Alive? Somewhere in between? Is this my magic resurrecting me?

The pain became too much, devouring my consciousness until I slipped back into knowing nothing at all.

Hours, days, perhaps years or eons passed. Or no time at all. I was in darkness again, but it wasn’t totally empty this time. My body was lying against something soft rather than being suspended in nothing. I wasn’t strong enough to move, only lie there and drink in the sight of the figures I distinguished through the blackness.

One was nothing but swirling shadows, as if it belonged to this darkness. Like it was a part of it. Mortius.

The other looked like a female fae, but she was impossibly beautiful, her skin radiating light and her gaze full of unfathomable wisdom and power. My skin prickled just looking at her, and I knew, instinctively, even if her appearance did not perfectly match the likenesses depicted of her in paintings and statues, that this was Vithenna, Goddess of Life.

“Solea does not watch over her beloved phoenix shifters very closely now, does she?” Mortius’ gravelly voice said.

Vithenna’s voice was like music or nature itself, like a rippling stream burbling on a summer’s day, a breath of wind through the grass, or birdsong at the break of a spring day after an endless winter. “She blessed them with her own flame, but you know this is the part where we take over. Magic gifted by me to bring them back to life.”

“And by me, blessing them with the peace and healing of the afterlife before they return to your cruel world,” Mortius cut in.

“And now your part is done. Go, let me speak with her.”

Mortius did not argue, his shadows swirling and slowly melting into the darkness until only Vithenna remained. Her eyes turned on me, assessing me with an emotion I could not read.

“Isoria Gildmere, your magic, gifted to you by the gods themselves, has granted you another chance at life.” Her mouth curled in something almost like a smile, but not quite.

That is not all you wanted to say to me, is it? As if I didn’t have physical use of my voice yet, my thoughts rang out loudly in this space, so that I knew she heard them too.

“You have questions.”