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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

This conversation felt a little like that one.

“The god is getting stronger,” Beru said. “Every day it takes more and more out of me to keep it shackled. Pallas’s binding won’t last forever, so whatever it is you’re planning, you need to do it fast.”

“Do they know?” he asked. “Hector and Ephyra. Have you told them, or anyone else?”

“They know,” Beru said. “But they don’t—They’ll probably try to convince you that there’s some way to stop the god without hurting me. So I’m asking you—because I do trust you, Anton—not to listen to them. Kill the god however you can, as quickly as you can. Whatever it takes.”

Her brown eyes met his, and Anton saw all her fear and grief. She would sacrifice herself, if it kept the world safe.

“Promise me,” she said.

Anton swallowed. He couldn’t promise, not this. He couldn’t face her, couldn’t see how selfless, how brave she was, how she’d stared down death again and again and didn’t flinch. He could only see his own selfishness reflected back at him.

She was waging a war in her own body, keeping the god and its destruction at bay with every breath she took. All she wanted was for it to end.

And Anton couldn’t give that to her. Not now. Not yet. Not without giving up the only thing he couldn’t stand to lose.

“All right,” he said, knowing it was a lie even as he said it. “I promise.”

BEFORE

The god lay dead before the Seven Prophets, but the Sacred Word remained. They could each feel its power, calling out across the plain in echoes.

“We must destroy it,” Behezda said.

“No,” Nazirah argued. “What if the god returns? We should keep it.”

“It is too powerful,” Tarseis said. “We must hide it. Bury it.”

“How?” Endarra asked.

“We must put it into a vessel,” Pallas said. He flicked a hand, and out of the shadows of the ruins, a group of his acolytes appeared. Bound between them was Temara, straining against their grasp.

Ananke froze. “What is this? What is she doing here?”

“This girl is the reason we are here,” Pallas said. He spoke not just to Ananke but to the other Prophets, too. “Perhaps the god needed to be slayed. But your disobedience cannot go unpunished.”

At the sight of Ananke, Temara redoubled her struggle, fighting hard to get to her.

“What are you doing?” Ananke demanded. “Let her go at once!”

Pallas waved a hand. Glowing, white light spilled from it.

Ananke felt a tug on the power of the Sacred Word. Pallas was drawing it out of her, out of the other Prophets.

The light circled around Pallas’s hands for a moment before surrounding Temara. She fell to her knees as the acolytes released her. The pale light grew brighter until Ananke could no longer see Temara.