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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 Age of Darkness is over,” Hassan continued. “The lighthouse has fallen. Dawn has risen. The Seif line is this country’s past. It’s time now for Herat to choose its own destiny.”

The crowd seemed to hush as Hassan’s speech came to a close. For a moment, he stood suspended in the silence, unsure if a riot was about to break out or he was about to be forcibly removed from the throne by his own mother.

Then, from the front of the crowd, a single voice let out a joyful holler.

Another joined it. Then another. Soon the whole crowd was clapping and cheering, throwing brightly colored scarves and paper into the air.

Thumping drums, jangling bells, and trilling horns accompanied the royal procession as it made its way through the throne room and down the stairs. Music players, dancers, and fire-twirlers strutted down the aisle as the crowd caroused around them.

Hassan let the celebration wash over him for a moment and then turned to descend. He stopped short when he saw his mother behind the throne, wearing a grave expression.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting that,” she said at last. “Though perhaps I should have.”

Hassan didn’t say anything, just waited for either her acceptance or her ire.

“The nobles will be angry,” she said, a smile threatening to break through on her face.

“I can handle them,” Hassan assured her.

She swept her gaze over him. “You know, I think you can.”

He beamed at her, overwhelmed by a rush of gratitude.

She tilted her head toward the stairs that led down from the dais. “Go on. Your royal procession awaits.”

With a last glance, Hassan descended the stairs and joined Khepri, her brothers, and Zareen, who comprised his royal escort. Together they walked into the crowd—the soldiers, the alchemist, and the last King of Herat.

57

EPHYRA

On the seaworn cliffs above the City of Charity, Ephyra knelt before the Navarro shrine and offered an oath.

The Pale Hand will never take another life, she vowed, bowing her head.

Jude knelt beside her, Hector’s reliquary held delicately in his hands. He placed it on the shrine beside Hector’s brother’s reliquary, and beneath his mother’s and father’s.

“I always wondered what Hector’s home was like,” Jude said after a moment, looking around at the simple three-room house.

Ephyra closed her eyes, thinking back to the six months that she and Beru had spent in this house when they were young.