Theo casts me an apologetic look. “Back there, we were passing through the Labyrinth. It’s a maze of shifting landscapes meant to confuse humans and prevent them from moving between courts. Think of it like a deck of cards that’s constantly being shuffled, each card being a different landscape. The upside is that the Rezzies can’t track us once we’re lost in it. The downside is that, well, humans tend to get lost. But Ahmet here has figured out how it works.” He claps his friend on the shoulder before turning back to the window. “And this—this is Victory.” Theo’s voice drips with distaste. “It’s Rezzie territory, ruled over by Prince Caelan and his Legion Guards. But it’s also home.”

Victory. An entire princedom created by an artificial intelligence. Ruled by an artificial intelligence.

“It’s…” My voice falters, unable to find the right word. Confusing? Terrifying? Beautiful?

Death is not at all what I expected.

Ahmet watches me through the rearview mirror. “Don’t let the glamour trick you. For most humans, this place is no better than a morgue.”

A lump forms in my throat. Death is supposed to mean the worst is over. But for my family? For everyone else still living?

What horrors are still to come?

I wish I could find a way to speak to my parents and Mei, to tell them I’m here, that I haven’t disappeared completely, and that some part of me still exists, somewhere in the beyond. But mostly I wish there were some way to warn them about what’s waiting in the afterlife.

Not that it would do them much good. Nobody can outrun death, which means nobody can outrun Infinity.

I rub the phantom wound on my chest, shuddering at how easy it is to recall the sharpness of the bullet. Death feels like an imprint—an invisible scar that I can’t see but I know is there. Because beneath my flesh I still feel the scorch of trauma. The horrible burn of my soul being ripped away from my body before I was ready to leave.

It shouldn’t have been my time.

My blood starts to simmer, so I quickly shove the thoughts away and stare out the window before anyone else notices.

In the distance, I spot a small village near the lake, surrounded by wooden docks and thatched huts built partially into the hillside. It’s crooked and unkept in comparison to the gleaming cathedrals beyond the wall, and rows of salt-weathered fishing barrels sit at the edge of the harbor.