Kolis opened the door with a wave of his hand. “I don’t, but…” He sighed loudly before looking over my shoulder at Elias. “You can wait here.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Unnerved that I would be alone with him, I waited for Kolis to elaborate as we came upon a narrow, spiral staircase.

Luckily, he was feeling chatty. “I believe motivation plays a role. The why behind the creation of the Revenants,” he explained, making his way up the staircase. “And I think it’s because of what my brother said once about creating life. That there is a little bit of magic in creation.”

Trailing a hand over the smooth marble banister, I eyed his back. It was always odd to hear him speaking of Eythos without bitterness or anger and instead with wistfulness.

“A part that was unknown and unplanned. Magic of the realms—in the eather of it all,” he said, the statement reminding me of something Holland would say. “Eythos claimed that whatever the creator felt at the time of creation often shaped it. That even a hint of joy, sorrow, desperation, or anger could mold the life of the creation before it even began,” he said, following the winding path of the staircase as a faint sheen of sweat broke out on my forehead. “When I create the Revenants, I feel only duty. But with Callum, I felt…I felt everything. Desperation. Anger. Sorrow. Even joy at being close to one who shares your blood.”

My lip curled.

“Eythos would say what I felt when returning life to Callum is why he’s different. That my emotions brought who he was back when I restored his life.”

Up ahead, the light of dusk filled the landing. “But I don’t think that’s right.”

“Why?” My leg muscles cramped, either from lack of use or from the tiredness Kolis had commented on.

“Because I have made myself feel those things when creating other Revenants,” he explained, reaching the landing several steps before me. “And none have become like Callum, no matter what I feel or think at the time.”

My lips pursed. He truly didn’t know why. It was so obvious to me. What he felt when resurrecting Callum had been real. The other times? Emotions could only be faked to a point, and even if one managed to convince others of it, even themself, it didn’t make the emotion real. I knew that better than anyone.

But Kolis? He may have understood emotion at one time, but he didn’t now.

“Either way,” Kolis said, facing me, “I suppose it is a blessing. I prefer my Revenants the way they are.”

Of course, he did.

“You are tired,” he noted as I finally reached the landing. “And out of breath.”

Gods.

“It’s unnecessary to point that out,” I muttered. “I hate stairs.”

The golden flecks in his eyes glowed. “You weren’t a fan of them before, either.”

Most weren’t.

“But I hope you will enjoy what I have to show you.” He walked out of an archway, dipping his head.

If he’d had this sanctuary built, did he not consider his height and massive head? I rolled my eyes.

Legs feeling like jelly, I followed him out onto what appeared to be a terrace—one elevated above the sanctuary wall.

Aching muscles forgotten, I crossed the patio floor and went to the waist-high balcony. I could see much of the city: the stunning crystalline towers, the circular structures with their sweeping pillars, and the shorter, squatter buildings that glittered in the fading sunlight. I looked down. Even the streets glinted.

Wordless, I turned to look behind us. There, I saw more of the glimmering buildings, the domes of Cor Palace, and eventually, the tops of the statues guarding the city and the patch of the golden trees of Aios. That wasn’t the only thing I saw, though.

Beyond the statues and trees, where a barren stretch of sandy land gave way, a thick mist smothered much of the ground that led to the mountains. A range that made the Elysium Peaks look like nothing more than hills in comparison.

It had to be the Carcers.

My breath caught as my gaze swept over the steep, slate-gray cliffs and deep, dark green, heavily forested ridges. I saw no roads in the mountains, but I caught glimpses of something darker through the trees blanketing the sides and plateaus. Patches of emptiness that absorbed what light penetrated the forest, turning those spots into abysses that glinted.

Shadowstone.

A bone-chilling screech drew my attention upward. Perched on one of the cliffs, a pale brown draken stretched its long neck, snapping at another who flew too close. Farther up, near the crest of the Carcers, two more circled.

I exhaled heavily, returning my attention to the pitch-black spots. That was where Ash was. My heart started pounding with relief and also frustration. Just witnessing where he was being held shook me, but seeing what it would take to reach him if he weren’t freed was devastating.

“What do you think?” Kolis asked.

Clearing my throat, I dragged my gaze away from the mountains and back to the city—its silent buildings and empty streets. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “It looks like it’s made of glass.” Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him. “You said the Fates killed most who lived here?”

Kolis nodded.

“Why would they do that?” I pressed when he didn’t explain. “I was under the impression they couldn’t intervene in that way.”

He snorted. “They can do as they please, whenever they want, especially when they believe the balance has been unsettled.” His eyes tracked across the top of my head and then down my face. “And their methods of righting things can be extreme.”

Thinking of what Attes had said, I looked over the narrow roads constructed of diamonds. “What were they attempting to return balance to?”

“When I took the embers of life and the crown, I gave the gods who lived here,” he said, extending an arm, “within the City of the Gods, a choice. They could serve me faithfully and loyally and live. Or they could refuse and die.”

I stared at him.

“Half of them refused. I killed them,” he stated, giving a slight cough as if to erase a thickness gathering in his throat. “It displeased the Arae, so they wiped out those who pledged their loyalty to me.”

My stomach twisted. I would never understand how the Arae went about righting what they believed wrong, but something in his voice left me uneasy. “Do you…do you regret killing those who didn’t pledge their loyalty?”

Kolis didn’t answer for a long moment. “I could’ve sentenced them to imprisonment. Given them a chance to rethink their decisions.” A muscle ticked along his jaw. “I could’ve given them time. I do believe life is important. I acted rashly. One would say I’m often wont to do that.”

I was still staring at him. “Well, acknowledgment is half the battle,” I murmured, unsure what to think of any of what had been said as I returned my gaze to the city, Cor Palace, and the Carcers.

Maybe Kolis regretted killing those gods because of how the Arae had responded. Perhaps he truly wished he’d done things differently, no matter what. Either way, he sounded as if he valued life.

And yet, I’d seen him kill so easily. That told me he didn’t.

Or could it be the malevolent side of the essence of Death that caused his rashness to result in death, overriding the benevolent part? I didn’t believe he had been born this way. He’d become like this. I would probably never know all the things that’d fed into how and why he was the way he was now, but I had a feeling going into a deep sleep would only make things worse.

I felt he was beyond reverting back to who he’d been.

And even if he could? It wouldn’t undo what he’d done.

“There are times when I look at you when I see parts of how you once appeared.”

My head swung back to him.

“The way you smile. The sound of your voice. Your mannerisms. Your eyes.” His intense stare lowered. “The shape of your body.”