Page 57 of To Dwell in Shadows
I want to go home.
“I understand. I don’t know how it works here, but I can find someone to help you cross over,” Selene said, glancing around helplessly, as if the answer might reveal itself.
That upset Ruth even more. She shook her head fiercely, her eyes wide.
No, no! I want to go back to the home I grew up in. Not… whatever comes next.
She turned away, as if ashamed. Wisps of hair that had slipped free from the chignon at the nape of her neck floated around her bowed head.
I’m not ready.
“Why not?”
Silence filled the hallway for so long, Selene wondered if her ability to hear Ruth had faltered. She held her breath, waiting. Then at last came the fragile, trembling words:
I’m frightened.
Selene sighed, wishing she could hug her. Even in death, she realized, it was easier to cling to familiar pain than to face the uncertainty of the unknown. It was a feeling Selene knew all too well.
Words of encouragement danced on the tip of her tongue. She was about to tell Ruth she was stronger than she knew, that she deserved more than existing in this half-life of sorrow. She wanted to urge Ruth to have courage and promise that what lay beyond wasn’t as terrifying as she feared.
But she held back.
Because Selene remembered what it was like to be stuck. When she was in Ruth’s place, no amount of wisdom or well-meaning advice would have pulled her out of her own toxic patterns. The life of obligation and self-sacrifice that she had built was suffocating, but also safe. By constantly meeting the needs of others, she hadmaintained a false sense of control over them. And by not setting her own goals, she had shielded herself from the sting of failure.
Letting go of all that hadn’t come from someone else’s words. It had been a choice she had to make alone.
“All right, Ruth. You don’t have to go now,” Selene said.
Ruth’s ghostly form wavered at the edges, as if she trembled with relief.
“But when you’re ready, come find me.”
Chapter 28
At the end of a long day of delivering vengeance in the Sanctum, Sam huddled with Selene and other demons on the Bloodstone Plateau, an outdoor stadium and the largest gathering space in the kingdom. Terraces had been carved into the stone for seating, and below them, dancers from the Legion of Temptation entertained the crowd with a sultry dance routine. A howling wind whipped through the stadium, tossing Sam’s hair around his horns.
Apparently, today marked the anniversary of the eclipse Asmodeus claimed credit for—one that ended an empire on Gaia. He had commanded his subjects to assemble in celebration, but Sam knew his father’s true motives stretched beyond revelry.
Everything was in place for the first trial to begin.
He felt ready. Borias had been right—his abilities in the Sanctum had improved since his visit to Zaybris several days ago. Images of each soul’s past deeds came to him more clearly, and he was becoming better at letting the pain of others pass through him without taking root. He hoped the mental clarity he’d gained would help him to find the DarkSovereign.
Imps flew about, roughly chasing away roving lost souls, causing Selene’s brow to crease with disapproval. When she’d told him of her ability to speak with the spirits, it had concerned Sam. The souls sent to the Sanctum had a specific reason for staying in the Underworld. But those who were merely lost? They weren’t bound by clear rules or judgment. To Sam, their presence suggested chaos and imbalance, a crack in the Underworld’s order. And that unpredictability, combined with Selene’s unique gift, could make her even more vulnerable than she already was.
Selene interrupted his thoughts by gesturing to a demon sitting nearby, who was loudly snacking on strips of dried meat. “Zetta would love those.”
“We’ll have to find her some,” Sam replied. Though the hellhound was indifferent to him, he was grateful that Zetta had taken such a strong liking to his mate. Especially since most demons were terrified of the hellhounds. He couldn’t stay by Selene’s side throughout the day, but knowing Zetta was near eased his fear that she might be tormented again. As she had been by Drath.
Just the thought of the demon of Fear made Sam’s muscles tense with rage. Yesterday, he’d overheard Mammon bragging that he’d placed a substantial bet on Drath winning all the trials. Sam hoped he’d have the chance to face him today. He was determined to channel every ounce of anger and fury he had built up and eliminate Drath without hesitation. The demon would pay in blood and suffering for disrespecting his mate.
When the Legion of Temptation dancers finished, Asmodeus rose to address his subjects. Sam could tell his father was in good spirits, though his fading ability to project his voice was apparent from the funnel he used to amplify it.
“Good evening, and welcome. On this day when darkness dominated over light, so shall our kind rise!” Asmodeus raised his arms, inviting cheers. To his left, Queen Lamia gave a noble wave. When the crowd quieted, he continued. “I have gathered you all heretonight in celebration, but also for a special purpose. The time has come to separate the strong from the weak.”
Selene gave Sam a worried look. “Oh no. This isn’t?—”
“It is,” he said quietly.
