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Back Into the Dying Light Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Copyright Notice
  2. Dedication
  3. I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. BEFORE
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. BEFORE
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. BEFORE
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. BEFORE
  25. II
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. III
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. IV
  52. 42
  53. 43
  54. 44
  55. 45
  56. 46
  57. 47
  58. 48
  59. 49
  60. 50
  61. 51
  62. 52
  63. 53
  64. 54
  65. 55
  66. 56
  67. 57
  68. 58
  69. AFTER
  70. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  71. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  72. Newsletter Sign-up

Hector barked out a laugh and poured himself a cup before handing it off to Khepri.

When they each had a cup, Hassan held his up.

“A toast, then,” he said. “To the end of the world.”

They raised their cups.

“To Beru,” Ephyra murmured.

“To Ananke, the Wanderer,” Anton added.

“To us,” Khepri said simply as they touched their cups together.

Soon the seven of them were sprawled out across the floor, propped against bookshelves and soft sitting cushions, teasing one another and telling stories. Anton shook out a deck of cards from his pocket. It was the deck the Wanderer had gifted him, the gold backs glinting in the low light. He dealt them out to Ephyra, Hassan, and Hector, like this was any other night they’d spent camped beneath the stars, passing time and buoying one another on the long journey.

Anton won the first hand easily, and the second.

“Come on,” Hassan said. “Last night before the world ends. You can’t go a little easy on us?”

“What would be the fun in that?” Anton replied, gathering up the cards to deal again.

In the corner, Jude and Khepri spoke in low voices, although Jude glanced up every so often, his eyes drawn unerringly to Anton. They were soon joined by Illya, who gazed longingly at the card game.

Without really thinking it through, Anton shifted over, clearing a space between him and Hassan, and when he dealt the cards again he dealt five hands. He caught Illya’s eye and gave him one, brief nod.

Wordlessly, Illya came to sit beside him, taking up the cards. No one else commented, just resumed the game, lightheartedly goading one another as Illya and Anton traded victories.

“Ah, so that’s why you wouldn’t let him play with us,” Hassan said knowingly as Illya narrowly won another hand. “He’s the only one who can beat you.”

Anton peered over his cards at Illya, who met his gaze with a tentative smile. Anton’s answering smile was a little brittle at the edges, but genuine.

It still felt a little raw, sitting next to Illya, playing cards and joking, like all was forgiven. It wasn’t—it might never be—but it counted for something that he was here. For this night, the one that stood at the cusp of the end of everything, it was enough.

43

EPHYRA

The night wore on and still they lingered, eating and drinking as the candles burned down to stubs, their stories turning from funny and bizarre to melancholy and wistful.

Ephyra felt comforted that they were all together again, somehow, against all odds. She had friends. Anton, Jude, Khepri, Prince Hassan. Even Hector, she supposed. People she could trust and who trusted her. Surrounded by these people, she felt a part of her mend that she hadn’t even known was broken.