Huh.

Won’t be long now, at least. If the gut wound doesn’t take me out, the fire will.

I close my eyes and think of Aron, and I’m…content.

I did it. I saved him.

I hope he remembers how much I love his arrogant ass.

Because I do.

I shouldn’t. There’s nothing normal about the guy, nothing humble, or easygoing. He thinks the world belongs to him, he’s bloodthirsty, and he can be a jerk. But he’s also protective and tender and good to me and I’m going to miss waking up in his arms and seeing that smile of his. I can’t imagine a day without him, without his laugh, his arrogance, his self-assurance.

That’s what I’ll miss the most about this place. It’s not that I’m dying in a strange land. It’s that I’m dying after I just found the man who makes me want to live.

To me, he’s always been more than a god. He’s Aron. My Aron.

And he’s going to win.

I clutch my burning, wounded stomach and I’m strangely at peace.

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81

“FAITH.”

The heart-rending bellow of my name jars me from my peaceful sleep. I wake up and moan with pain, at the agony in my hand and the ice in my gut. Why am I not dead yet?

Someone grabs the front of my dress and hauls me in their arms.

“Faith,” a familiar voice pants, and then a big hand strokes my hair back from my face. “No, Faith. You can’t die on me now. I won’t allow it.”

Aron. My Aron.

I’m no longer mad at him because of Hedonism Aron’s actions. It’s all okay. He’s so upset at me dying that I know he loves me and only me. I smile. Or try to. It feels like my face won’t behave. “Hey…there.”

“Faith,” he growls, clutching me close against him in a way that hurts really bad, but I don’t mind. I just like that he’s holding me. He’s covered in blood and soot, and his mismatched eyes stare down at me with a wild expression. “You are not doing this. You are not. I will not allow it—”

“I was always going to die, Aron,” I manage. Man, it’s hard to talk. My lungs feel heavy, and my tongue slow. “Knew it. Spidae…knew it, too.” My vision grows fuzzy and I struggle to focus on his face, because he’s so beautiful, so perfect. Even if he’s the god of war, he’s just…lovely. I smile. “Had to make sure you were the last.”

Fuck that other Aron and his anchor.

“We’re getting you out of here,” he says, and the big, wonderful hand strokes my hair again. “You will live. I command it.”

I cry out as he touches the knife in my belly and everything hurts. “Don’t,” I manage, panting. “Hurts too much.”

I expect him to ignore me, to ignore it. Instead, his cool fingers touch my face again. “Very well.” He sounds…defeated.

That terrifies me. “Aron…dead? Bad Aron?”

“Dead,” he says. “Rest, Faith. I have you.” His voice is so tender, and he presses a kiss to my brow that makes me so, so happy. Oh, I love his kiss.

I saved him. I’m smiling inside, even if my lips are slow to respond. The ice in my belly feels like it’s creeping up my neck, so I watch Aron closely. I want to get one last good look at him before everything fades out. Already the black is creeping around my vision. It won’t be long now. I’ll die, and he’ll return to his fortress in the Aether, to rule as the just, firm, newly compassionate god of storms that he is. Maybe a little arrogant, but that’s ok. It’s just part of his charm.

“You…won’t forget me, will you?” The black fades a little more and all I can see is his mouth. His pretty, pretty mouth.

“Never forget you,” he rasps, and I barely feel him brush his lips over mine again. “Never, Faith. I love you.”

I know he’s saying that to me because he wants to make me feel better, but in this last moment, he needs to realize I’m okay with everything. It’s good. He doesn’t have to pretend. I love him enough for both of us. “Gods don’t love,” I remind him. “It’s…okay.”

And I’m smiling as I die.

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82

Death is…strange.

I thought there would be a light. You know, a go-towards-the-light sort of light. Instead, everything’s just kind of gray. Foggy, and gray. I sit on a stone bench, and even though there are others around me, I feel alone.

Rudderless. Like I said, strange.

I sit with my hands on my knees, trying to figure out how much time has passed. The wound in my stomach is gone and nothing hurts, but I’m positive I’m dead. Others pass by me, stranger after stranger, men and women, and they wander past with the same bewildered look on their faces that echoes how I feel. Muted, and confused. Like emotions are very, very distant things that belong to others.

I can see through the other people, too, so that’s how I know we’re all dead. We’re gray, and we’re spirits, and if that’s not a big honking clue, I don’t know what is.

I think of Aron, my Aron, and find myself smiling. He’s probably mad at me right now, if he remembers me. I have no regrets, though. I’d do it a hundred times again, because I love him and that’s what you to do help those you love. Even now, the sad ache of losing him is distant. This must be what death does. It makes you not care about…anything.

“Faith?” A hollow voice calls out my name. It sounds vaguely familiar.

I get to my feet, looking around at the sea of drifting, non-corporeal strangers. One steps forward, wearing armor and carrying a sword.

It’s Vitar. “Oh wow, hi.”

He smiles at me, and I go to hug him—and our arms pass through one another. Figures. “I am sad to see you here.”

“It was inevitable. I’m sorry you got eaten by a giant lake-worm.” I want to touch him, to squeeze his hand, but my fingers just pass through him. Another person steps forward and it’s Solat. “Hello friend. I’m so sorry.”

“It is all right,” Solat says, and it is. Nothing much seems to matter here in the afterlife.

“Where are we?” I ask, curious as more people shuffle in.

“This is where the dead go when there is no body for us to be attached to any longer. We are between all webs. Between life, death, everything.” Solat shrugs. “So we wait.”

“Wait?” I echo.

“Wait for the god of death to return to his throne.”

I nod. “Can I wait with you guys?”

“Of course.”

We sit together in the gray, and it occurs to me that if I have no body to inhabit, I must have been burned, like all the others. I wonder if we stopped the war in Yshrem. I wonder if we saved lives. I guess it doesn’t matter one way or another. Death isn’t so bad. It’s just kind of…blah.

Time passes. It’s not so lonely with Solat and Vitar here. We talk some, but mostly we’re content to just sit in the fog and wait together. Eventually, a distant light flares, like a firework rising into the sky.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing.

“One of the gods is re-ascending to the Aether,” Solat says. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I nod, thinking of Aron. “Was Aron’s star beautiful?”

“It was perfect.”

That makes me happy.

It’s hard to know just how long I sit with my friends. The gray is…endless. There’s no hunger, no need to eat or sleep, nothing to break up the endless time. I feel no boredom, no nothing. I’m just…waiting.

Then one day—or many days—later, a large man stalks through the sea of gray spirits that wander in the fog. He wears a long, black cloak, a heavy hood, and seems to be heading straight for us.