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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 Seven Prophets and their acolytes gathered at the Temple of the Holy Creator. Pallas knelt at the altar. “Holy Creator, we humbly offer you one of our own. We offer you the life of a mortal as proof of our devotion to you. Our lives belong to you. As do our hearts.”

It was then that Ananke knew what Pallas was about to do.

“Holy One, the life of Temara, acolyte of Ananke the Brave, is yours.”

Three of Pallas’s own acolytes marched Temara from the crowd and up onto the altar. Temara’s sword was at her hip, but she did not fight back.

Instead it was Ananke who leapt upon the altar after them and drew the blade from her beloved’s sheath. Ananke who held the sword and put herself between Temara and Pallas.

As Ananke stood there, holding the sword with the point at Pallas’s throat, a roar of thunder filled the air and the skies opened up.

“Choose another,” she demanded. “You cannot have her. Choose another.”

“You would defy me?” Pallas whispered. “Defy the Creator?”

“Yes,” Ananke said. “I would rather spit upon the holy altar than hurt the one I love. I would rather the Creator doom me to an eternity of suffering than to see her suffer.”

“This is a test of your faith, Ananke,” Pallas said. “And you have failed.”

“Then let the Holy One strike me down,” she replied. Thunder cracked across the sky, but Ananke did not waver.

She turned to Temara. “Will you go with me?”

Temara didn’t answer. Instead, she took the sword from Ananke’s hands, and with the strength she was known for, she cleared a path out of the temple, into the storm that raged beyond it.

Temara and Ananke ran to the very edge of the world, a land formed by fiery eruptions and cut by ancient glaciers. A land so strange and remote that even the god had forgotten it existed.

For eleven months, they hid. Ananke did not dare use her powers, lest the others find her, but at night she dreamed of the destruction wrought on the rest of the world. Fires, famines, and plagues beset the Pelagos. Pallas and the other Prophets sacrificed one, five, a dozen acolytes, but the god would not be placated. Ananke’s defiance had upset the balance between the god and its creations.

Guilt ate at both their hearts.

“How can I be worth this?” Temara asked her when Ananke woke up from yet another dream.

“You are worth everything,” Ananke replied, kissing her palm. “Before the Holy Creator claimed me, I was yours. And you were mine.”

But in the spaces of their silence, guilt grew between them.

And then, in the twelfth month of their exile, Ananke and Temara were found.

6

EPHYRA