Page 248 of May: Bloom & Bane

“I need you to look for me.”

His pulse races against my back.

“The reaper is tougher than I expected. Ørvahn can herd him, but he cannot speed time—and I no longer know which finishes first. The reaping, or the forgiveness.” I rest my fingers in his silken hair. “I would not ask if the map could tell me. You may refuse. Tonight, and any other night.”

“You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.”

“I know you do, Father.” He lifts his head from my shoulders, and his fingers find the knot. “That’s why I never do.”

The bandages fall away in slow white loops, gathering on the floor around his feet. And the ruin beneath them meets the orange light of the fire—the milky, pupilless remains of the eyes he tried to give back to a gift that would not take them. For a moment they stay pale, then two points of cerulean light flood his sockets, burning through the scar tissue. His whole body sags against the hearthstone. His body may still be in the room, but he is walking somewhere I cannot follow now. His consciousness has slipped across the veil to walk the forest’s astral path.

“Snow,” he murmurs. “I’m in the snow, Father. I don’t see him yet.”

Frost creeps around his wrists, turning his warm olive skin pale blue.

“You don’t see him… That’s never happened before.”

“I’m on the path he should be on.” Evhael’s brow furrows, his blind face turning slowly, tracking something in the forest. “I can see my brother. I can see his blood in the snow. There’s so much, Father. He’s given so much⁠—”

Fog spills from his lips.

“I can see the sister, the Rhavari, and the soulfox. I can see all of them.”

“But not the reaper?”

“There’s a hole where he should be.” His fingers curl, scraping against the hearthstone. The frost has climbed to his elbows. “Every time I turn toward where he should be… the path drops me where he just was. I keep arriving a breath too late.”

“Evhael, the reaper is forgetting himself… could that be why you cannot find him?”

He shakes his head violently.

“No, Father. That’s not it. I’ve seen this moment before. I’ve stood on this exact path. And the last time I was here… it didn’t look anything like this.”

CHAPTER 75

what we have left

—Ashán

I’m climbing over frost-slicked deadfall until I blink, and I’m somewhere else entirely. My chest is heaving, my lungs burning as if I’ve just run miles. I have no idea how I got here. The moon has moved significantly, and the blood on my skelva is fresh enough to drip.

“Sage,” I pant, leaning my forehead against the freezing bark of a pine. “What happened? How long was I out this time?”

A while, he murmurs. You kept moving. But you wouldn’t answer me. No matter how loud I screamed.

I wipe the blood against my shadow, trying desperately to orient myself in a forest that feels as fractured as my mind. Nothing stays where I leave it—not the trails, not the stars… not even me.

“Did we get any closer to Eden?”

No, he sighs. Every time we get close, he bends the path. He’s burning our clock on purpose, Ashán. Every step he steals is another step the curse takes.

My hand flies to the glowing mark on my chest. “How long do we have?”

The duskbells opened while you were gone… and they’re beginning to fold again.

My pulse stutters.