Death made no attempts to escape from the dungeons. He knew that if he did, the Sentinels would find him in an instant. Godwin’s power was extraordinary, something Death never anticipated—for the first time since his awakening, he knew he was outmatched and had no chance in combat against the king.

  I must find others to kill for their strength and return here once I am capable of killing someone that powerful, he thought. If they wanted to execute me, they would’ve. I can only make guesses as to why they would keep me alive.

  The only guard on duty left with a yawn after the rumbling of a Sentinel’s bark signalled the end of his shift.

  Finally, peace, Death though. Their coughing and sighs were driving me insane. This place is not like Sekoi’s dungeon. This is clean, thankfully. I can bide my time easily here.

  He heard footsteps coming from the dungeon doors, the rattling of a key. The door slammed shut, the flames of the torches fighting not to be snuffed out by the gusts from the slam.

  “If you’re going to kill me, make it fast,” Death yelled. “I know the sound of angry footsteps.”

  Death got no response. He stood and held the iron bars, trying to peek around the stone pillars. No one seemed to be there.

  Odd. I swear I saw someone come in, he thought. “An assassin?” he said, amused. “Going against the orders of those higher than you? Perhaps you are just that desperate to get justice for those idiots at that farm. They were scum. Nobody will miss them.”

  A young voice spoke from the shadows. Death couldn’t tell the exact place it came from. “The commonfolk will,” it said flatly. “I agree with what you did. Those men worked under Killian Entrail, abusing their title to take coin from the common man—you aided a resident of this city even whilst branded an enemy. I didn’t know an ‘enemy’ would regrow the limbs of a little girl.”

  Death’s grip tightened on the bars. Who is this? This man was stalking me? How dare he?

  “Calm down,” the voice said. “If there’s anything you should take from what I said, it’s that I don’t want to kill you.”

  “If you don’t want to kill me, show yourself.”

  A torch on one of the pillars was snuffed out. In the shadow, two legs stood. Death couldn’t see his face.

  “Who are you?” Death asked. “Are you the one in charge?”

  “The ones in power are never the ones who should be. You did a miracle for that family. You are not the enemy. The enemy I search for would not have a kind heart.”

  “I do not have a kind heart,” Death hissed.

  “People with kind hearts often think that way.”

  They stepped into the light for Death to see him. Like the middle brother, the youngest prince too loved his mother’s hair on his own head, more curly than silky. Freckles caking his shoulders and cheeks, he wore the gentle face of his late mother.

  “My brothers argue about you,” he said.

  “You are Stroke Valan?”

  Stroke removed the crossed leather straps from his bare chest and placed them atop a crate. He placed his sickle against the wall and stood close to the bars. Death could’ve grabbed him if he wanted to, but he chose to listen.

  “Hm,” Stroke said. “They also told me not to speak to you. Do you think you’re an enemy of Vatanil?”

  Death broke away from the bars and sat down in the corner of his cell in a patch of stray. When he blinked, Stroke was inside the cell, opposite on the other side.

  Those bars aren’t wide enough to fit his frame, Death thought. He must be incomprehensibly fast… or something else.

  “Your name is Death,” said Stroke. “I saw you in a dream.”

  A dream? Death thought. I would hope that is a joke. Suggesting fate dragged me to this cell is embarrassing.

  “You wonder why I’m here?” Stroke asked, resting his head on his knee as he sat. “I would be wondering that too.”

  “You want a chat.”

  Stroke gave a dry laugh. “Yes,” he admitted. “What is that you want from Vatanil? You can tell the truth. If it’s to kill Godwin, admit it, I would trust you more.”

  “I don’t want your trust.”

  “Good. That’s why I want to give you it.”

  Stroke stayed silent and let Death consider telling the truth, which he partially did. He told him about his unsealing, the hunt for the scarred man and the succubus.

  “They sound like evil people,” Stroke said, referring to the people who betrayed Death. “I used to think there were no evil in the world until my brothers started looking in the directions of maidens. Their lust for sex and power made them unrecognisable. Just like you, Death, I was discarded.”

  “Shadows cast upon you are usually from those closest.”

  Stroke laughed at the wisdom. “See? Would my enemy share words like that with me? The darkness was nice for a time.”

  “Do you think at the end of this, we shall be friends?” Death scoffed. “If that’s your goal, cut my throat.”

  “Friends would be nice,” Stroke said. “The best bonds appear at random—true friendship can’t be forced.”

  “I am a conqueror. I do not want to be your friend.”

  “Really? What about the two that travelled with you? Where are they in this mess?”

  Death felt a strange pain in his chest after remembering how he abandoned them. “Some paths must be walked alone if they are wide enough for more.”

  “More wisdom,” Stroke joked. “I knew a woman who would squeeze beside me even if the path was barely wide enough for one.”

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  Is he talking about that girl from the ritual? Death thought. I am not sure if he knows of her fate.

  What he said next confirms that he didn’t.

  “She was kidnapped by cambions and taken to Caron. I know that you were falsely accused as these true enemies. Killian Entrail can’t be trusted to count apples on a plate. I had a vision of you fighting one of these cambions in a frosty forest—the girl I seek was not in those visions… that makes me think something deeper has happened, something my brothers are hiding from me.”

  Death considered telling him but didn’t.

  “I have talked to much,” Stroke noticed. “All of this doesn’t interest you. I’m sorry.” He discreetly wiped away tears, pretending to cough, giving Death a wistful smile. “I cannot leave this city. It’s rare for people to truly leave, it leaves with you, nagging you to come home—the rumble of the Sentinels, you hear it in your dreams and nightmares, everyone always comes back.”

  Death felt something he didn’t expect—sympathy. He felt pain on behalf of the young prince. He skewered the truth, explaining that he knows the cambions don’t have the girl he seeks because he has fought against them and alongside them.

  “What?” Stroke said, confused. “They don’t have her?”

  Death tossed the folded note, explaining that a cambion named Beion had snatched it from the bedside of Killian.

  Stroke read it with teary eyes, frustrated. “May I keep this?”

  “I was hoping to match the writing to one of the women,” Death said. “Use it as blackmail against them to get closer to Godwin.”

  “Very honest.”

  Stroke punched the bars of the cell so hard it dented. He gave a loud scream of anguish, sulking into his knees in a light cry. When finished, he folded the note and slipped it into his pocket.

  “Do you know of my cambion protector?” Stroke asked. “Not what they told the commonfolk—the true story?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you. He was my friend, a guest, I had invited him from Hell as an ambassador to prove things had changed and that the demon-blooded were not evil, just simply the losers of the war that happened so long ago. My brothers agreed to this under one condition—kill the Kans.

  I took two thousand of my best men to Naveen, led by me and Farfon, the cambion. We laid siege to a southern castle. I fought the great Snuff Kan, cut off his arm, almost died during the battle. I was barely a man, fourteen, fifteen maybe, but I had already done so much more than they ever would without a God Arm.

  My men and I starved for four months whilst sending letters to Vatanil begging to send the Vaelirian Bloods. We were surrounded by the Kan’s forces, but we knew how to defend properly.

  I thought our doves were being shot down by arrows but that was a lie. My brothers sipped their wine, ate their turkey, all while I starved for months, eating rats and dirt.

  I had to eat some of my own men. We made it fair. A sack filled with stones and a single coal. I often pulled the coal, and I was always prepared to give them my flesh… but there would always be a volunteer.

  Eventually this word got to Bianca. She was furious. She made a meeting with Kan Lumi, brought us all home under an agreement that Snuff Kan would be freed. We came home to no glory. When me and Farfon came to Godwin’s feet in the throne room, Harren cut the cambion’s throat in front of an audience of thousands, lying to them all that the demons were still hungry for war and shouldn’t be allowed to roam Valan.

  As for the rest of my men? I never saw them again, not one of them. Godwin and Harren are not nice people. They are drunk on their heritage. All power in this city has a dirty secret?”

  “Even you?” Death asked flatly.

  “My secret is not evil,” he said mournfully. “Mine was out of passion. I will not discuss that with you. The only pure hero in this city is Bianca, trust me on that. She doesn’t see what I see, although I think she is ignorant on purpose.”

  “Great,” Death said sarcastically. “Now we’re all caught up on who you are, ain’t we?”

  “You don’t know how hard it is to be me,” Stroke whispered. “I had to prove I wasn’t a thirdborn runt to my father… this life is unfair and I think you see that. I want to trust you. The unbalance of this mystery leaves me sleepless. Help me solve it.”

  “And how do you expect me to do this from my cell?”

  Stroke pointed a shaky hand out of the bars. Through the bars that shown the sky, an owl stood watching.

  “My older brothers do not believe in the gods. I do. The Voiceless one has a plan for me. The Vaeliri calls for me.”

  “The Vaeliri?” Death chuckled. “The God of Redemption?”

  “Yes.” Stroke stood and walked to death, looming over him. “I have trusted the Voiceless One in my times without a path. This path is wide enough for two. I think we could do great things.” Stroke offered a hand. “Is it a deal, Death? I shall help you when you need it, and you shall help me. Never indebted. We can build trust over time.”

  Death was wary of betrayal. He asked Stroke’s motives.

  “I wish to love forever.”

  “Do not use the word forever if cannot grasp what it means.”

  Death’s own sentence made his heart skip a few beats. He had said that same sentence before. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know why. It was familiar to his lips. He took Stroke’s hand, pulling himself to his feet and sealing the deal with a handshake.

  Stroke looked at the owl and spoke loudly. “When you hear the three rumbles of the Sentinels closest, I will lower their effects for a brief time. Use this to escape. Wear a hood. I will track your movements through the Sentinels and keep them blue. I will have to send Bianca after you, of course. Do not kill her.”

  Death gave a firm nod. With his next blink, Stroke was gone, as was the owl.

  ————————————————————————

  Deep into the forests of the outskirts of Vatanil, Snow continued her slaughter through the night. She followed the owls to many other camps, cutting their sleeping throats and eliminating them all, fuelled by the idea that the Voiceless One would give her another vision of where Death was.

  “Snow!” Vera yelled, drenched in blood. “Don’t you think this is a little insane? I get it. You miss Death. I like killin’ cunts like these but this a little excessive!”

  Snow ignored her, skipping alongside the owls as they guided her to her next destination. Her sword was dripping with blood, her smile joyful. “He will be so proud of me,” she whispered. “I won’t stop until I have in my arms.”

  The owls circled a specific part of the dirt like a tornado. Snow entered laughter, raising her arms in excitement. A single owl landed at her feet, clawing at the dirt, asking her to dig.

  “Come on, Vera!” Snow yelled. “We have to dig!”

  Vera sighed and got on her knees. They eventually found an old satchel. “There’s more,” Snow yelled. “Keep digging.”

  They uncovered the fairly fresh body of a Valan guard, worms and maggots wiggling inside the sockets of the consumed eyes. It was a few weeks old at most. Vera pinched her nostrils as she cut the satchel away from the corpse’s belt.

  With no one to kill, Snow calmed. She opened the satchel with Vera and discovered a letter addressed to King Godwin. The writing was the same as the one Beion had stolen.

  The contents of the letter were short and to the point. A threat of blackmail to King Godwin, a promise to reveal what she knows to the commonfolk of Vatanil if he doesn’t lift the rule that he must give permission to all marriages.

  ‘Ponder on this quickly, Godwin,’ the letter ended with. ‘I shall kill you if you ignore me for any longer.’

  Snow noticed the seal of the letter had been broken before they had read it. “I don’t think he was happy with the messenger,” Snow joked. “Poor guy was just doing his job.”

  “You slaughtered hundreds for some owls, one Valan cunt is making you sad? Sheesh, Snow, you might be insane.”

  “Why would he be buried out here?”

  “Duh,” Vera said. “To avoid the Sentinels, of course, didn’t want his brothers to… oh, I see your point. Only the Valans are able to see through the Sentinels, why would he hide the letter from his brothers?”

  An owl hopped towards them with a hoot. Vera was the one to rush to it this time, claiming the reward—she got the vision of Death talking to Stroke, their deal, and information on how Beion would be able to infiltrate and enter in a short window of time.

  She gave this information to Snow through excited squeals.

  I’m going to see Death soon, Snow thought. Thank you, owls of the Voiceless One. I will remember this.