The horses travelled through the night at Beion’s persistence. It was still storming, the rain falling harder with the arrival of dawn.

  Bianca had slept atop the wagon, allowing the clouds to drench her in a cool blanket of water. She was excellent at predicting the length of storms, as Valan had many, but had no thoughts regarding the current one. All she knew was this one would be long, possibly the longest she’d ever seen.

  Billid opened the hatch to the roof, shielding himself from the weather with three layers of folded coats above his head. In his hand, a sandwich made from the scraps of hellhound meat and crushed tomatoes.

  “Miss Bianca, the demon says we’re getting close,” Billid said. “Snow made me four sandwiches. I ate three. I brought this fourth one for you. You must be hungry.”

  She rolled to the edge of the wagon and dangled an arm off the side, waving away her squire. “Don’t want it. Not hungry.” She closed her eyes and listened to sounds of the rushing river at the side of the trail. She felt relaxed, too relaxed.

  Billid joined her shut the hatch, covering her with one of the coats to keep her warm.

  “You’re safe,” Billid said. “Maybe take my advice. Eating will help you feel better. It helps me feel better.”

  “I’m not sad,” Bianca sighed. “Begone.”

  He wrapped the sandwich in one of the coats, then laid with her in the rain. “This is nice,” he said. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s not nice. The rain is getting in my eyes.”

  “Then go inside the wagon.”

  “I would never leave you to be sad while you’re alone, Miss Bianca. When my old puppy died young, I didn’t leave my bed for weeks… maybe months. I never knew Miss Runaya that well, I know that some sadness isn’t shown through tears.”

  “She’s not dead, Billid.”

  “I never said she was, Miss Bianca. I’ve never seen you cry. Is she as sweet as everyone says?”

  “She’s the kindest person I ever met,” Bianca admitted. “I know she can’t be dead. I’ll protect her when I bring her back to Vatanil. The vile rumours tormenting her will end.”

  Vera started the two by clanging her golden fox-dagger against a steel plate. “Rise and shine, shitheads! Beion says were close!”

  “I already told Miss Bianca that,” Billid said. “Those sounds hurt me ears. Please don’t do it again.”

  She did it a few more times to annoy him before tossing the plate onto Snow’s bed.

  “Watch where you’re throwing that!” Snow shouted.

  Vera ignored all complains. “Oy Bei-bei, how’s the sniffing coming along!”

  “She hasn’t moved since I started sniffing her out at the top of the mountain. I smell it more when I stay near the river, but like I said, she isn’t moving. She’s not caught in the currents. She’s not buried. I think I see a bridge.”

  “Those without home used to sleep under the bridges during a harsh storm,” Bianca said. “She must be sleeping under the bridge for protection. She travelled all this way from Caron, of course she is tired. Are you certain she’s at that bridge?”

  A flimsy wooden crossing held itself well from the harsh gusts. It came quickly into view from the thick fog, stinking of death even from far away.

  “Stop the horses,” Death ordered. “Don’t take them near that bridge. Beion, secure the horses to one of these trees and make a camp with the wagon. The horses need rest.”

  “I’ll do it,” Vera insisted. “Beion can go the bridge.”

  Bianca gave the same order to Billid. Bianca, Snow, Death, and Beion huddled close and pushed towards the bridge, fighting against the wind.

  “I must warn you, Runaya is dead,” Death promised. “You say she is sleeping, and she is, but she is sleeping eternal. She is not going to be alive by a miracle. This is not a fairytale.”

  “I won’t believe it until I see it for myself,” she yelled. “I—augh, what is that…”

  A pungent stench of decaying flesh made even Death feel sick. It got only thicker, leaving all four with a tang of vomit and blood at the back of their throats as they hurled and gagged.

  Snow’s stomach proved weakest. She got to the bridge and fell to one knee, grabbing onto the post and spewing up her breakfast in chunks of thick yellow slime. She smelled it again, spewing again, until Beion took pity on his friend and gave her a flower-scented cloth to breathe through and filter the smell away.

  I am losing myself in these pointless adventures, Death thought. If I were as I were when I came out of that tomb, I’d take this dagger of godsteel and cut Bianca’s throat from behind. That old hag in the sewer that spoke prophies, something she said has been in the back of my mind for a while. Why not be loved this time? Her question confuses me greatly.

  “This is where the smell is strongest,” Beion said. “The stench you smell isn’t the tear of the angel, it’s—”

  “Don’t say anything,” Bianca asked calmly. “I know what the smell is. You don’t need to say it to me.”

  Leading to the bridge was a path of stone slabs. One of the rocky squares, however, had obviously been loosened and lousily put back without proper sealing. The storm had weakened its connection to the surrounding path. Bianca refused any help with moving it.

  Snow vomited a third time as the odour grew more foul and got through the cloth. A swarm of flies came out from a small dug hole, a warm, steaming, leather sack had been stashed away.

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  “You don’t need to see anything more than that,” Death said. “We both know the contents of the sack.”

  “I need to see it,” Bianca insisted. “I don’t care if it haunts me. I need to know it’s her. If there’s even a slither of a chance that it’s not her in there, I have to take it.”

  Beion stopped her from cutting open the sack. “I promise you, it’s her in there,” the demon said. “My nose never lies.”

  “Neither do my eyes,” Bianca said. “Please release my wrist.”

  She cut open the leather sack delicately and peeled it away. After vomiting a fourth time, Snow hid behind Death and pinched both nostrils shut.

  “That’s horrid,” Snow groaned. “Gods… I feel a fifth.”

  Bianca was mortified. She looked upon the contents and nearly vomited herself. All that remained intact was a torso, arms cut, legs cut, the chest ripped open vertically with the intestines stuffed into the cavity to save space. The head was crushed flat like a pancake, maggots, flies, and leeches sucking and chewing their way into the decaying meat of the scalp.

  “It’s worse than I imagined,” Beion said. “This is the state you saw her in at Caron?” he asked Death.

  “Exactly the same.”

  Bianca knew it was Runaya from the dress alone. It was the last thing she’d seen her friend in before she mysteriously disappeared from Vatanil. She asked for a black sheet, which Snow ran to fetch.

  “How could this happen to such a sweet thing,” Bianca said. She wanted to cry. “The gods have played a cruel joke.”

  “Kindness never survives,” Death said gently. “Power preys on the weak. I warned you it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight.”

  “Was it Beion who cut her open?” she asked calmly. “The ritual. Who did it?”

  “My sister. But… it was under command. The instructions came with a petrified angel tear.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you,” Bianca assured. “I want to know if you saw any faces. Any names.”

  “Aleion was the one who received the letter.”

  “Aleion?”

  “My brother. He never told us who it was.”

  “Is he alive?”

  “Death killed him.”

  “Sorry,” Death said sincerely. “I wasn’t exactly given a choice to spare the brute. He attacked first.”

  “Another cruelty of the gods then,” she whispered. “I saw you have shovels in the wagon. I won’t take this sweet girl back to the city like this. Will you let me use your tools to bury her?”

  “The services of my companions are yours,” Death said. But I really shouldn’t let her feel too accommodated. Our paths could cross again one day… a battle to the death, maybe.

  “Here.” Snow helped Bianca wrap the body in the cloth. “I’m sorry for your loss. It was Killian Entrail who killed her. We all saw him do it.”

  “I believe you… but that man lives for violence. He doesn’t do a thing without the say-so of someone above him. There aren’t many above him. Death, if I may, I’d like to take the letters you found on your journey. I’ll be leaving for Vatanil once I’ve said a few words for my friend, then I intend to confront Godwin the first moment I am able.”

  Ah, Godwin, Death thought. He’s my reason for travelling to the city too. I want to kill him, but even with the strength Snow added to my soul I fear the battle would be one-sided and unfavourable. I’ll have to assassinate him, a dishonourable kill, not one that I would do in any other circumstance. I am desperate for power, I need one of those God Arms added to my soul if I’m to conquer everything. I’d even settle for the soul of Killian Entrail. He has a gift that I’ve not yet seen. The title of Blood Swordsman surely must’ve been earned by someone powerful.

  “Tell Godwin I’m gonna fuck him in the ass!” Vera yelled. “I want my face off the bounty board of Vatanil. Is that—I know that scent. That’s the girl from the ritual.”

  “Yes, fox, that’s the whole reason we came here,” Death sighed.

  “Oh right. I forgot.”

  Billid finished setting up the camp and slowly joined the group. He too spewed. Snow pat him on the back to help. “I was the same,” she said. “Let it out. Let it out.”

  “Miss… Bianca…” he groaned. “Is that Princess Runaya?”

  “It is,” Bianca confirmed. She hoisted the wrapped sack on her shoulder and moved toward the camp. “Fetch a shovel, Billid. You dug hundreds of graves, time for one more.”

  An owl hooted above Bianca, trying to get her attention. She gave it a deathly glare. “I no longer believe in your will,” she hissed. “I’ll follow you no longer. There are no gods, only bored spirits.”

  Billid wept like a baby whilst he dug. He never knew Runaya, so Bianca was confused by his tears. She let him cry, digging a deep hole and carefully placing Runaya into it, then stood by the edge.

  All except Death circled the grave. “C’mon,” Snow whispered in his ear. “We’ve gotta pay our respects.”

  “I did not know the girl,” Death sighed. “I will not pay respects for someone whom I care little. That in itself is an insult to both my honour and her memory.”

  She grabbed him by the ear. “I command you to be respectful to Bianca and Billid,” she hissed. “Get your ass by my side!”

  Bianca overheard the squabbling and couldn’t help but smile. It reminder her of her younger self. She waited for everyone to settle comfortably, then gave each person a nod of gratitude.

  “Runaya Valan was not a warrior,” Bianca said. “She’d never harm a fly. I’ve seen her cry over lonely insects travelling alone; I’ve seen her pray for squirrels and deer during harsh winters. She didn’t have any malice in her bones, not a drop, and the world she lived in betrayed her innocence. Before a Valan, she was Runaya Rall, a girl who fetched hay for Prince Stroke’s horse. We shared a tragedy, her and I, one that made us feel like sisters. One quiet night, a candle fell from the window of a tower and set fire to the hay below. It spread up one of Keep Blacksteel’s towers, trapping many loyal servants. My parents, just like Runaya’s did, selflessly rushed to the top of the tower that soon crumbled to rubble. No lives were saved, and the Valans took us both in.”

  Vera began to cry, similar to how she did at the funeral held in Hell. Her tears made Billid cry a second time.

  Bianca continued her speech. “Despite this, Runaya continued to love life in ways I’d never seen. She was kind. She was a lady. She had a smile that spread to others. She will be missed.” She put a hand into her satchel and revealed a red handkerchief. Bianca’s name was sewn into it with white stitching. “I promise I’ll find who gave Killian the order. I will get justice. I’ll bury you with this gift you once gave to me, so that you’ll always have a piece of me with you in death.”

  “Wait!” Snow yelled. “Can I have it?”

  “That’s rude,” Death whispered. “You can’t have it.”

  Bianca kissed the handkerchief and surrendered it to Snow instead of tossing it into the grave. “I would normally find such a request offensive to my speech… but Runaya would’ve liked that I gave it for someone else to find use for. Keep it safe, Snow, I was only willing to place it in the dirt as I knew it would never be lost. Don’t lost it.”

  “I won’t, I promise!” Snow exclaimed. “Thank you!”

  “Billid, fill the grave. We’ll be leaving when done.”

  “Aw,” Billid moaned. “But I like these people.”

  “We like you too!” Vera said. “You’re welcome to travel with us anytime you like.”

  “Death has had enough of us,” Bianca joked. “Good luck in your own journey. Once again, I apologise for the fight. I will find the true culprit behind this and then perhaps we could be friends.”

  Like fate, I hate the word ‘friends’ just as much, Death thought. I doubt she’d want to be friends if she knew I’m planning to assassinate Godwin.