Chapter Twenty-Five

Days passed like this. I lost track of how many. More than a week. Aranren and I would study Death's book, discuss the spells therein, and then go for a walk. Yes, a walk. These walks were important. Not only did they get us out of the fortress, away from all the Corrupted, but they also gave me a chance to work with the Death Magic. Which is why Death approved of them.

I had yet to cast that first spell. When I said "work with the Death Magic," I meant feeling it out, learning it as I thought I had been before. Listening to it. But now I felt all of the magic. The soaring freedom and the brittle imprisonment. Death had many aspects. It wasn't just Death. As Spirit Magic was more than the touch of life, so was Death Magic more than an end to that life.

The training Death had given me before had touched on this. But now, I saw it clearly, truthfully. The bad with the good. But it was all about perspective. What I would have seen as bad before, I didn't see as bad now. Well, not when Death colored my conscious. Whether he ruled my mind or not, I kept my goals in place—to conquer the magic so I could vanquish the consciousness.

"Again," Death said. "Feel for the smallest parts of the tree. Seek the way in subtly."

I stood with Aranren before a great oak tree that Aranren had summoned with his Earth Magic. As a Varraen, Ara had access to all magic. All but Spirit. That's where I surpassed him. It's what made me special enough to attract Death's attention. Well, that and the prophecy.

I felt my uniqueness, gloried in my power, and used that confidence to search the tree for an entry point. Being subtle didn't matter with it, but Death wanted me to learn it now, so I could use it in battle. Not that any city on Varr could put up much of a fight against Ara and me working together.

I found a weak spot, a place where a piece of the tree was dying to make way for new growth. That death was an access point for Death Magic. I slid into it. Once there, I could have spread death through the tree, but that wasn't the goal of this exercise. There was magic and then there were spells. I needed to learn the magic, certainly, and I was. But today's lesson was about casting my first Death spell. Death decided it would be easier if I performed it on something inanimate. Thus, the tree.

I spoke the strange words that I had memorized, my focus on the tree. Power lashed out of me like a whip, striking the weak point I had located. Like a barb, it hit its target. A poisoned barb. But the tree didn't slowly succumb as Taroc had when hit with Aranren's poisoned barb. No, the spell was much faster.

In an instant, the whole of the tree turned black. A brittle crackling sound came as fissures appeared on the surface of the trunk. Then, with the light touch of a breeze, the tree burst into a cloud of dust.

Deep inside myself, I screamed.

"Well done!" Death shouted.

Aranren clapped politely.

I reeled. That spell had shaken me, rattling Death's hold on me. The real me had been so horrified that my reaction rang through my body even though it couldn't touch my mind. I frowned as shivers of that pain coasted along my arms. A simple realization came with it: I didn't like this.

"Ember?" Death's voice cracked through my ears and through my mind.

The horror was gone. Confidence returned. I lifted my head and looked upon the black smudge that had once been a grand tree. Risen by magic and felled by magic. Its death was a stepping stone for me, nothing more. I had accomplished my first spell.

"Another," I said.

Silence. Then Death said, "No. That's enough for today. I need to consider all that's happened."

"All that's happened?" I jumped on that clue, eager to know what was happening outside of Aranren's lands. "Are you monitoring the Wraith Lords?"

Another pause, then, "Why would you wonder that?"

"We need to know what they're up to. I'm a little surprised they haven't come here yet. They must know where I am by now."

"Ah. Well, with Caleb's disappearance along with yours, I'm sure they're still trying to figure out what happened."

"Didn't they find that note?"

"What note?"

"The one he tried to leave to warn his old lovers," Aranren reminded him. "Death has me."

Death chuckled. "Oh, that. I don't know."

"Why not? Haven't you been watching them?"

"Ember, you were my way past their wards. Without you in the citadel, I have no access to the lords. Not until they leave."

"But you're a god. How can a ward stop you?"

"Even Gods can be deterred by magic," Death sounded petulant, not at all like a god. "But I found my way through."

"Ah. You had quite an intricate plan. I'm impressed with how you played me."

Death grunted. "I'm impressed with how long you took to be swayed. I thought for sure after I saved you that you would trust me. But no, you were still suspicious of me. Then I helped you protect the Emperor, and again, that didn't work. You are cunning, Ember."

"Thank you. Not cunning enough evidently."

"You were pitted against me. There is no shame in losing."

I didn't agree with that. My pride told me that I was better than Death, and I was determined to prove it.

"I want to learn how to possess someone as Ara did," I said.

"Ara?" Death suddenly sounded pleased. "You have given him a nickname?"

I glanced at Ara, who subtly shook his head. He didn't want Death to know that he had asked me to call him by that name. So, cleared my throat and went along with it. "Yes. Now, can you teach me how to do that?"

"That is advanced spellwork. Patience, Ember. You will get there. And now that you are with me, we have an eternity to see my plan come to fruition."

A shiver of cold ran through me—Death's pleasure.

"Take the rest of the day and night to yourselves, my emperors-to-be," Death said. "I am going wandering."

Before I could say anything, Death was gone, along with most of his suppression. I gasped as I returned to a partial version of myself. Hand to my sternum, I felt inside, certain that more of me was back than the last time.

"Ara!" I reached for him.

Aranren turned to me and took my hand. "Are you all right, my friend?"

"No, that was awful, but it was also helpful." I clutched his hand tightly and drew him away from the remnants of the poor tree. Lowering my voice even though Death was gone, I said, "Killing that tree shocked me so deeply that part of me broke free."

"What?" Ara gaped at me.

"I feel more of myself now!"

"But . . ." He frowned. "I . . ."

"Why aren't you pleased?"

"I am." Ara chewed at his lips. "I just . . ." His expression crumpled.

"What is it?"

"Ember, I never broke free like that, not even a little. Was I never horrified enough by what he made me do? How could I not have been? He's made me do terrible things. Terrible! Did Death choose me because I was already partially evil?"

"No!" I transferred my hand to his shoulder. "You are not evil, not even a little. He had more time with you. Death probably had you more firmly under his control by the time he made you do something terrible. You heard him—with me, it's always been a battle."

"Yes." He hung his head. "Meaning it was not with me."

"You didn't know that you had to fight! Or even that you could." I shook him. "You had no one to warn you, no one to show you what Death could do. I've had everyone warn me, and I still fell for his tricks."

"You fell to your pride, Ember, not for Death's tricks," Ara said gently. "You thought you could discover his true intentions, and you did."

"Yeah, I discovered them when he took control of me."

"But now you know you have a chance to get free of his influence."

I went still, staring at Ara. There was something in his expression that worried me. "You have a chance too, Ara."

"I don't know if I do, Ember."

"No! You're not giving up, not when we've just been given some hope."

" You have been given hope. I have seen the other side of it. I think I've been under Death's skeletal hand for far too long, my friend. There is no chance of freedom for me."

"No. I refuse to accept that," I said.

"I tried to kill myself," Ara whispered.

"What?" my voice went even softer than his.

"In the beginning, I tried to kill myself several times." He crumpled onto the snow-covered ground, still as graceful as ever, and hunched forward. "Death wouldn't let me."

"But you're immortal. How did you—"

"Poison, jumping from a great height, stabbing myself through the heart." Ara shrugged. "Death laughed every time and tightened his hold on me. He told me then that the only way I can be killed is through beheading." He grimaced. "And beheading oneself is very difficult. I've learned that as well."

"Ara," I cried brokenly as I dropped to my knees before him and pulled him into my arms. The cold instantly seeped through my pants, but I ignored it. "I'm so sorry."

He started to cry. Softly at first, then it became a violent sobbing. Ara's body shook as he let out the pain, fear, and loneliness he'd been suffering for centuries. I held him through it, giving him the only thing I could give him—comfort. I hoped it was enough.

After several minutes, Ara's crying dwindled into sniffling, and then he leaned back to wipe his face with the wide sleeves of his robe. "I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've given into my pain."

"Don't ever apologize for your feelings," I said. "As long as you can feel things like sorrow and regret, we know that Death isn't winning."

"But he is," he said. "With me, at least. You, Ember, are different. You must reach for the horror in everything he makes you do. Take it deep so that your true self can be shocked over and over until all of you is free. Fight him!" He gripped my shoulders desperately. "Fight him for both of us."

He pressed something into my hand, but before I could ask him what it was, we were interrupted.

"What treachery is this?!" Death's voice boomed around us.