Solaris knelt, taking the glove off his withered hand and holding it over the body—which took a deep breath.

The crowd who had gathered to watch gasped. I felt both shocked and sick. Adrian looked furious.

The man, Efram, who had died moments ago, began to choke. Solaris helped him roll to his side, and blood sprayed from his mouth onto the snow. Then he began to cough and spit mouthfuls of blood until he could produce nothing but clear saliva.

“Efram!” His wife had freed herself from Killian’s grasp and crawled toward her husband while a steady rumble of voices began to rise behind me.

“It is a miracle.”

“He is our savior.”

“He has been sent by the goddess herself.”

I clenched my fists against those words and stared at Adrian. I was not certain, but I thought for a moment that he might strike and murder the man Solaris had resurrected.

“Come, on your feet,” said Solaris, rising.

Once they were standing, his wife threw her arms around Efram, but he did not return the hug, nor did he bear any expression, and I thought he seemed more like a revenant than a man returned to life.

If his wife noticed, she did not seem to care, because she turned to Solaris and exclaimed, “You are a god!”

Those nearby began to cheer as the man who had risen from the dead made his way through the streets of Cel Ceredi with Solaris by his side.

“They should be more afraid,” I said, but the mist, the aufhockers, and the plague had all made them too desperate for a savior, and they had chosen Solaris the moment he had promised to rid the world of Ravena.

I had no doubt they would regret their decision, but it would be a hard lesson.

“Are you just going to let them go?” I asked, looking at Adrian, who still stood near where Efram had lain, marked by his blood.

“What would you have me do when the people of Cel Ceredi think he is a god?”

“Exercise your rule as king,” I said. “Bring Efram and Solaris to the castle, have them spend the night in the dungeon for observation.”

I didn’t know if he heard what I said. He seemed so focused on the villagers’ retreat, but after a moment, he gave a sharp whistle, summoning Shadow.

“We should head back to the castle,” he said.

I did not disagree, though I did so with dread, knowing no good could come from what had transpired here. Resurrection was the only part of necromancy, the magic of speaking with the dead, that High Coven never touched.

It was for the goddesses, we used to say, but I was not so certain it was for anyone. Even the goddesses brought people back wrong. The monsters we lived among were testament enough.

***

Adrian was in a foul mood.

I sat in bed, worrying over him, watching him.