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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

The god’s words boomed over her, but Ephyra barely heard them. Hassan and Khepri rushed to Hector’s side. But they already knew it was too late—they all did. They had felt the moment Hector’s esha had gone quiet.

The Sacred Word surged through Ephyra like a storm.

You can do this, she thought to herself. For her. For her, you can. For the rest of them.

It was up to her. It had always been up to her. She was the Pale Hand of Death, a reaper of monsters, slayer of humans and gods alike.

And this was the last life she would take.

She stepped toward the god.

It reacted instantly, zeroing in on her.

“DO YOU THINK I WON’T KILL YOU, TOO?”

Ephyra didn’t stop. She walked toward the god, toward its snarling face, a mockery of her kind and loving sister.

“JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE HER SISTER, JUST BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT ME BACK … THESE THINGS WON’T PROTECT YOU ANYMORE, EPHYRA.”

When Ephyra spoke, she spoke to Beru and not the god. “Beru,” she said, her voice threatening to break. “Remember what I told you.”

The god raised its arms. Bolts of lightning crashed down on the barren rock.

Ephyra did not waver. “I will never, ever give up on you.”

“ENOUGH. WE BOTH KNOW YOU WON’T DO THIS. YOU WON’T KILL HER.”

But Ephyra didn’t stop. She drew closer to the god, close enough to touch it.

“I’m sorry, Beru,” she said. “I love you.”

She closed her eyes. She wrapped her fingers around Beru’s wrist, around the black handprint.

The Sacred Word burned through them both.

54

BERU

Beru did not remember the first time she’d died. She remembered only after, her sister’s viselike grip on her arm and the quiet that surrounded them.

But now she felt every second, stretched out as if each lasted a lifetime.

The Sacred Word blazed over the god. Beru felt it pour through her veins, its heat scorching her bones.

The god bellowed in her mind. It could remember the cold light of creation. The torment of those first few eons. The agony of becoming.

Beru remembered it, too. How the world began as chaos, darkness, and light.

Dying felt much the same.

The throes of the god quaked through her. It flared like a star, bright and hot, swallowing the cold, dark space around it.

She waited for the moment it would burn out to nothing, but it did not come.

Instead, she felt more than she ever had before. Threads of vibrating esha weaving their way around her.

This was what the god had once been, she realized. It had been everything.

And when the Prophets had slain it, it had been cut off, severed from the esha that flowed throughout the rest of the world.