Page 44 of The Edge of Darkness

Should I kneel? Do I bow?

I had no idea what I was supposed to do while in the company of a god, but I couldn’t have moved anyway. My body was too busy trying to not be overwhelmed by his presence.

His expression didn’t change as he opened his mouth and spoke. “That stone is not yours to command, young one.” His voice was a whispered baritone that skittered on the wind. I shivered at the ancient sound of it.

“I-I know. But I need your help.”

The god regarded me for a long moment. So long, that I thought he wouldn’t reply at all.

“You sought the goddess of healing,” he finally said.

“Yes. But, you’re not her . . .”

“I am not.” The scythe shifted in his hand. “I am Æbon.”

“The god of death,” I breathed out.

“The very one.” His stoic expression remained unchanged. “And just how did this stone come into your possession?”

I gulped down a swallow. “I took it from a High Lord who stole it from its Elder. I intend to return it to where it needs to be, but the Elder who owned it is dead.”

“Mmm.” Æbon regarded me. “Make sure it finds its way to another Elder, or your realm will suffer for it.”

I thought about Amarna gripping my ankles. “There is one with me now.” With my physical body, that is.

“And why was she not the one to summon me?”

“I thought that my power⁠—”

“Your power is strong, yes, but it is almost fully spent. You are brave to attempt this feat with so little remaining in your well.”

A wave of anxiety washed over me. What he said was true; I could feel my power fading. And the longer we talked, the more time we were wasting.

“I called for Nephira to help heal⁠—”

“He is beyond healing. He is already upon my doorstep.”

The god’s words made my heart lurch.

Was I supposed to beg? Plead? Offer him something? What did gods want that they didn’t already have? How could I convince him?

“No—please, you have to help him! You have to—” I stopped myself when the sudden realization hit me like an iron fist. “That’s why you answered my summons, not Nephira. Because he’s . . .”

Dying. I couldn’t say it.

Æbon looked down, as if he was looking at Roirdan beneath us. “That particular poison has no remedy. Only death follows its sting.”

I trailed his downward stare, but all I could see was the white void of my consciousness.

The god of death took his time, drawing out his next words. “You have a strong spirit, Auren, Daughter of Karios.”

His words pulled my attention back to him.

He knows who I am.

“Yes, I know who you are, young one—what you are. You will right many wrongs in this world before you join us.” His head tilted ever-so-slightly—likely the only thing akin to interest that I would get.

As much as I wanted him to elaborate, there was no time. Roirdan was fading beneath me, just as my power was fading with every breath I spent rallying it for this plea.