Page 78 of May: Bloom & Bane

“Thanks, but I’m taken.” I glance at the barrier.

Damon stops his slow, curious circle, a look of genuine amusement flickering across his obsidian features.

“Taken,” he murmurs. “A bold claim for a man currently locked out of his own meadow by a single cedar needle.” He stops directly in front of me and his feet—if his taloned, elegant boots can be called feet—hover just inches above mine. “I am not here to steal your heart, Solvernah. I have a realm full of them, and most are far less… leaky… than yours,” he hums thoughtfully, pointing to the gold blood staining my thighs. “I was just here to check on my brother.”

“Your brother?” My eyebrows scrunch together.

Is he my sibling?

He gestures to the invisible wall with long, elegant fingers. “Not you, young blood. Therael.”

“You look nothing like him.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I wouldn’t,” he chuckles. “Different… makers.”

Did I inhale some mushrooms I shouldn’t have?

“Care to explain? Because I am clearly not following.”

“I see your Mentor has kept you in the dark for some of this.”

“We don’t exactly see eye to eye,” I reply.

“Just wait until he throws the third one in the mix.”

“Come again?”I stare at him, my jaw slack enough for the mist to settle on my tongue. “Third one? Are you telling me there’s another one of you?”

“Actually, there are six of us. All significantly less charming than I am.” He winks. “But I was talking about Therael’s third eye. I’m assuming he hasn’t shown you yet.”

He drifts a little higher, his feathers ruffling in the wind.

“Third… eye?” I repeat. “He grows lavender and lectures me on root systems. He doesn’t have a⁠—”

“Oh, he has it,” Damon purrs, his gold eyes narrowing as he looks toward the barrier. “He’s a watcher, Sage. He sees everything. If only he had⁠—”

He cuts himself off, a flash of grief passing over his face before his relaxed charm slips back into place.

“When what?” I press. “If he sees everything, what did he miss?”

“Not my story to tell, Little Reaper,” he rasps. “And it would be wise not to mention it to Therael.”

“So who are you?”

“I am Damon, God of the Afterlife.”

“You’re not here for her… right?” My heart squeezes, dread shooting down my spine.

He drifts closer, his feathers ruffling like a card deck being shuffled.

“I will not be the one to collect her soul, Sage.” I don’t like the sympathetic tone he’s using all of a sudden.

“Nobody will be collecting her soul.” My wings flare defensively.

His eyes bleed back into darkness, as if he doesn’t want me to gauge his emotions.

“Tell me whatever it is you’re hiding.”

“There are things in motion,” he starts, “that were set before you woke up. And I cannot undo them. None of us can. But I can tell you this—” He comes so close, I can smell sweet wine on his breath. “The outcome depends entirely on what you do.”