Page 188 of Fallen Nocturne

“No,” she says a third time. “I’m staying. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what he says. I’m staying with you.”

Her voice is muffled against my chest but absolutely firm. A selfish, desperate part of me is glad.

Death sighs. “All right then. Let me show you something.”

He waves his hand, and the gray desert around us shifts. In the distance, a massive gate appears. The towering structure is made of bone and shadow. From it, souls are streaming in a steady flow. They pour through the gate in an endless wave, stumbling into the realm of the dead with confused, terrified expressions.

“Do you see that?” Death asks, and there’s something almost angry in his voice now. “That’s the result of the war. Every second, more souls arrive. Elves. Fae. Orcs. Dwarves. Humans caught in the crossfire.”

Beyond the gate, I catch broken glimpses of the living world. Cities burn while armies collide below. Bodies lie scattered across ruined fields.

The gate shudders under the weight of them, soul after soul after soul pouring through without stopping.

Rhianelle’s grip on me loosens slightly. But she keeps her face hidden against my chest.

“You could stop it,” he continues. “The Elven Queen who can summon the monsters and ancient fae in Astefar. You could save them and end the war. You could prevent tens of thousands of deaths.”

Death’s gaze turns cold. “But instead, you’re choosing to stay here. In the land of the dead. Where you don’t belong.”

Still, Rhianelle doesn’t respond, her arms locked tight around me.

“How many lives is he worth?” Death asks again. “Is that really the choice you want to make?”

“I’m staying here with Svenn,” Rhianelle says, her voice muffled but clear.

Death stares at her back, and I can see the frustration building on his face. He’s used to people fearing him and accepting his judgment.

“You cannot stay. There are consequences. Your people, your kingdom, the balance of—”

He keeps talking.

Rhianelle’s breathing slows and her fingers curl into my coat the way they do when she is shutting everything else out. Death lists every reason she should leave. He tries once more, something about duty and sacrifice, but Rhianelle has already stopped hearing him.

I watch all of this in silence as she chooses me. She chooses us, despite everything.

I think about the story Blaire told once, about a six-year-old Rhianelle. How her family was going to slaughter the villagers when they found out what they did to her. How little Rhianelle, barely more than a child, lied for years to protect the innocents. How she bargained with monsters just to stay alive. She chose to stay for nine hundred years in Astefar, enduring the twisted forest’s torments and darkness. All to save people she didn’t even know.

That is six-year-old selfless Rhianelle. Here she is now, standing in the realm of the dead, being told she could save thousands of lives if she just leaves.

Yet, she’s saying no.

Rhianelle’s choosing me over the world.

She’s ready to let the whole fucking world burn just to be with me.

“You’re being selfish. Shame on you, Rhianelle Wiolant!” Death is shouting but I don’t hear the fucker.

I stare down at Rhianelle. At this incredible girl who’s gripping me tightly. She’s shaking against me and crying now but her grip doesn’t loosen.

I feel something crack in my chest. It opens like a door I didn’t know existed suddenly swinging wide.

She truly loves me.

Gods.

Gods.

I reach down and gently pull her arms away from my torso. She resists at first, making a small sound of protest.