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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

Somehow, the twisted path of Jude’s life had led him here, to this boy, and whether by fate, chance, choice, or all three he knew he had to hold on to him, to love him, as much as he could for long as he could. Anton was a part of him now, like his hands, like his lungs, like his heart.

Jude closed his eyes as Anton’s thumb stroked his temple and then his lower lip.

“Anton,” Jude said again, dipping his fingers into the anointing oil and touching it ever so gently against Anton’s mouth.

Anton’s lips parted, and Jude leaned into him. It was not a kiss so much as the suggestion of one, but it made something deep within him ache as Anton chased another, his lips bitter from the oil.

They separated, and Anton rose to his feet, crossing the pavilion in a few steps before turning back to Jude to offer him his hand.

Jude didn’t move for a moment, gazing at Anton. He almost said, Stop. Almost said, One more day. One more night like this. Just one, and that will be enough for me. Let’s stay here until the stars burn out and the sky goes dark and this one moment, this one night, will stretch into forever.

Instead, he took Anton’s hand, slotting their fingers together.

One night. Forever.

At the end of the world, what was the difference?

45

BERU

The people of Charis fell to their knees, bowing to their god. Behind them, the volcanos that ringed the island bellowed out thick black smoke.

The god surveyed them from the top of the Great Steps.

Flames rained from the sky in Tarsepolis. Pallas Athos had been drowned by a river of blood. Endarrion had fallen to plague. And now Charis would be destroyed, crushed beneath a blanket of tar-filled smoke and rivers of molten rock.

THESE VOLCANOES CREATED THIS ISLAND, the god said. JUST AS I CREATED THIS WORLD. BUT NOW THE CREATOR BECOMES THE DESTROYER. IT IS NATURAL, YOU SEE.

Lava cascaded down the side of the mountain, flowing in thick, rippling waves. Beru watched, helpless, as the city disappeared beneath plumes of smoke, obscuring the desperate people as they fled toward the sea, pleading with a god that did not care.

If you don’t stop, Beru thought desperately. There will be nothing left.

THERE WILL BE ME.

46

HASSAN

The morning dawned with rain.

It beat against the roof of the Great Library as Hassan surveyed his squadron of soldiers in the observatory. Khepri had hand-selected them from the remaining rebel forces, including both Sefu and Chike. To Hassan’s surprise, Hector had volunteered to join them.

“I can’t sit here doing nothing,” he’d said. “And I can’t watch Jude sacrifice himself. I need to be useful.”