Page 116 of In the Ravenous Dark
I lean forward and give Ivrilos a lingering kiss.
And then I jam the stake into my own heart.
35
The underworld appears the same as I remember it from Ivrilos’s memories. Like before, the ground rises slowly, drifting like a reverse snowfall until it funnels up into the gloomy sky in twisting clouds. But I’m not thinking about the stark unearthliness of the landscape as I scan the dark dunes before me.
I’m looking for her.
“Rovan, you—” Ivrilos starts.
“Do you see her?” I interrupt. “Can you tell if you’ve caught someone’s death current?”
“Rovan…”
“You said if you cross soon after someone dies, you’ll end up—”
He takes my shoulders. “She’s not here. And if she was, she won’t be now. Look where we are.” He turns me toward him, away from the dunes, and I see we’re standing before the immense dark gates of the black city.
My throat seizes. I’d really hoped I could find her, at least make sure she was safe down here for as long as I could. See her one last time. It’s finally starting to hit me that she’s gone, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to withstand the blow.
Ivrilos takes both of my hands and presses his forehead against mine. “No words,” he says again. Despite where we are, the danger we’re in, he closes his eyes and just leans into me for a moment, the dark world dissolving around us. “I’m so sorry she’s dead… andI’m sorry you are, too. I’ve never wanted to see you here.” And then he blinks. “You still have your bloodline. You should look at yourself.”
I pull away enough to glance down at my arms. I’m wearing the same black tunic I wore just moments ago in the living world, but without any tears or burns or bloodstains. My bloodline stands out on my skin, brighter than ever, like fresh blood. It nearly shimmers, crackles, red lightning over my skin.
And itdefinitelyhas an effect on what’s around me. Whereas Ivrilos looks the tiniest bit…fuzzy… as if the smallest pieces of him are trying to fly away, I churn up everything around me simply by standing still, like I’m the eye of a storm. It seems as though everything nearby wants to flee from me.
Ivrilos shakes his head. “You’re like no shade I’ve ever seen before. It must be your bloodline. You’re supposed to lose it when you die. But your connection to the living world isn’t severed—you can still go back to your body if the stake is removed—so you’ve brought your bloodline with you. It’s something from the living realm in a land of death.”
“I guess this is why you’re supposed to burn the body, or at least the heart,” I say. “No coming back to life, and no bloodline down here.”
The very air around me feels charged, disturbed. Ivrilos and I face the gates of the dark city together, hands clasped. The walls, from the ramparts to the sky-piercing towers, are rippling like black water. It’s as if they’re having a hard time containing what’s inside. The city is like a thin layer of ice over turbulent depths, and it’s melting—literally dripping up into the air.
And we have to walk across it.
“Can you still shield yourself?” Ivrilos asks.
I answer by throwing up a shield. I cast it wide enough to include Ivrilos.
“Just don’t go too far from me,” I say, “or it will work against you, too.”
He nods. “Good. It should keep any shades from touching us. Or the city from swallowing us. I don’t know how long this place will remain standing, especially when we sever the other anchor point to the living world. It’s restless, unstable.”
It’s hard to imagine that the walls were oncepeople.
“You don’t think Athanatos found her and took her in there, do you?” I ask, nearly breathless with pain at the thought.
Ivrilos is grim. “I hope not. But we’ll make him pay if he has.”
We walk up to the gates, our feet kicking up dark sand that whips away from us. At Ivrilos’s whispered urging, the massive doors part soundlessly.
The wide black street inside, dimly glinting under a stormy sky, is eerily quiet and empty, as are the towering gatehouses on either side. It’s the same as we make our way into the strange structures of the city, the architecture like glass, somehow both flowing and sharp at once. And black, always black. Our footsteps sound loud, echoing against the buildings. I see the faces of shades—men, of course—darker than shadows, from only a few of the unglazed windows that stare down at us like eye sockets. I don’t know if the multitude of the city’s occupants died their second deaths during the battle above, or if they’re staying away from us or from the tenuous stability of the walls. Wherever they are, either in the living world as guardians, out in the dark dunes taking their chances, or finally all the way dead, they don’t seem to be here.
Ivrilos keeps his hand in mine as we make our way through the barren, terrifying city alone. I still can’t shake feeling like we’re walking to the chopping block. Our final deaths.
We reach a massive square that terminates at another set of doors so tall they look stretched, and I recognize where we are from the earliest memory Ivrilos shared with me. The towers of thekeep weren’t finished back then like they are now. But I remember seeing a throne through the doors.
They’re shut tight against us now, but I can feel Athanatos in there, just like I could feel Kadreus in his quarters. I can also feel the other anchor point. It seems to vibrate—the source of the city’s instability. And yet it’s also the thing still holding it together. Like Ivrilos, I have a feeling that, once cut, it’ll all come tumbling down—or up, rather.
