The crowd fell silent. Senera sighed and stood. “So that’s done. Let’s go fetch the body.”

30: A WALK IN THE WOODS

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Kihrin saw the Jade Gate closed for the first time in his life

Kihrin pointed a finger at Janel. “Wait, what? Did Thaena Return you? What happened? How—”

“Shhh,” Janel said. “I’m about to tell you.”

Janel’s Turn. The Afterlife.

The problem with dying every time you close your eyes is never knowing if this time is the last time. If this time it’s for real.

Was I dead or just unconscious?

I couldn’t tell.

I stood on a hillside in the Afterlife, clad in black armor only subtly different from what I’d worn just a few moments before.

The Chasm stood before me.

Everyone called it the Chasm, even Xaltorath. A giant crack in the earth, a mighty canyon marking the boundary where the Afterlife gives way to the Land of Peace. Giant chunks of rock and earth sailed upward in a continuous stream, like a waterfall running in reverse.

The demons were attacking the Chasm, but demons were always attacking the Chasm. Few places in the entire Afterlife were more likely to be visited by the Eight Immortals. I’d always avoided this region. I’d be attacked by both sides if I showed myself. Even if Thaena had told her people to leave me alone, the other gods and their forces wouldn’t automatically feel the same. Attack first and ask questions later remained a rule here, and they didn’t know me.

So I retreated.

I wondered how people in the Living World would react if they knew the truth about the Afterlife. Most souls never reached the Land of Peace. No religion I knew spelled out that the reward for a life well lived would be another eternity on the front lines—in the Afterlife, fighting demons.

But who knew? Maybe the ghostly soldiers had volunteered. It’s not like I knew what it was like to truly die.

Although given how the duel with Relos Var had gone, maybe I shouldn’t assume.

As I fell back, I heard movement in the trees behind me, and I turned, ready to fight whatever came.

What came was a god.

Khored the Destroyer wore red armor and a matching helmet, with a raven-feather cloak. In his hands, he held a red glass sword I knew would annihilate anything it touched.

Then he sheathed his sword and removed his helmet.

“Walk with me,” Mithros said.

The battle continued to rage behind us, but no one seemed interested in capturing this area. We walked alone.

“I’d convinced myself you couldn’t be Khored,” I said. “Your priests … they don’t know?”

He ignored the question, and as we walked, I felt his ire. Any joy I might have felt at seeing him faded.