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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

Ephyra bowed her head. She couldn’t stand to look at Hassan’s still face. He didn’t deserve this. And Khepri—she didn’t deserve the grief she would now have to live with.

Illya’s hand fell to her shoulder, and unthinkingly, Ephyra took it, holding tight.

“Wait,” Illya said softly. Ephyra looked up at him and saw his gaze was pinned on Hassan. He crouched at the prince’s side, fingers finding his pulse. “Khepri—”

She whipped back around.

Hassan coughed, wheezed. His eyes flew open.

“Hassan!” Khepri cried, tears springing to her eyes as she threw herself toward him, shoving Illya out of the way.

Ephyra sagged with relief, balling her hands into fists.

“What…” Hassan seemed to struggle for a moment, his eyes darting around to take in the scene. Then he bolted upright, nearly ramming his head into Khepri.

“Whoa, easy,” Hector advised, approaching from his other side. “Take a moment and just—”

“What happened?” Hassan demanded. “Is the god dead? Did they kill it already?”

As though in response to his question, the sky roared with thunder.

“Good,” Hassan said.

“Good?” Illya echoed. “How is the god still being alive good?”

“We need to go, right now,” Hassan said, trying to struggle to his feet despite Khepri’s and Hector’s protests. “There’s no time. Sefu, Chike, go find my mother and Zareen. Make sure they’re safe.”

With a nod of understanding, they waded back toward Ozmandith Road.

“The rest of you, come with me,” Hassan said. “I’ll explain on the way, but we need to find Anton and Jude, now.”

Thunder boomed across the sky, so loud it rattled Ephyra’s bones.

“All right,” she said, before any of the others could speak. “Then let’s go.”

With the howl of the wind in their ears and the destruction of Nazirah at their backs, they ran.

50

JUDE

Anton’s Grace thrummed all around Jude. He hadn’t felt it this strongly since that day in the lighthouse—in the place they stood now—when Anton’s Grace had first called out to him.

But it wasn’t Jude that Anton was calling to now. It was this power, this ancient thing inside of him. The Sacred Word. Coaxing it, little by little, from where it hid within Jude’s esha.

The storm raged around them, as merciless and unyielding as the power that cleaved from Jude’s esha.

It hurt. It was not the scorching pain of Godfire, but something deeper, more visceral. Every part of Jude, his bones and his skin and his blood, vibrated at a different frequency. He feared he would eventually come apart, his body trembling into dust, into nothing.

And through it all, Jude felt Anton’s hands clenched in his own, like if he could hold on tight enough, Jude would stay.

It’s all I want, Jude thought desperately.