A myriad of words stormed through my head, but none seemed to stick. She stepped forward, her breathing ragged and her hands shaking. “I’ll do it,” she said, the certainty in her voice swiftly tearing me apart.

“Acantha…” I murmured.

“What? No… Not you,” Nethissis replied, terrified by the thought of losing her. The others were simply speechless. The tone of her voice had been so sharp and heavy, it didn’t leave room for any objection, despite Nethissis’s attempt.

“You don’t have to decide. You don’t have to struggle anymore,” Acantha said. “I’ll do it, and that’s that.”

“Acantha…” Again, that was all I could muster.

She turned to face me, her lips straining into a soft smile. She was trying so hard to keep her composure, her chin up and her eyes dry. What character this girl had developed. Such strength and nobility. I was the fortunate one to have had her by my side.

“Lumi, we both know there is no time left. One of us has to die, and I want it to be me. The Word’s legacy will live on, untouched and eternal,” she said. Nethissis reached her and hugged her, crying and shuddering and whispering pleas to stop her. “I love you all. I love my swamp witch sisters. Most importantly, I love you, Lumi, for taking me in and teaching me all this. I am a better person for it, and that is something that no one will ever be able to take away from you.”

“Please, don’t,” I blurted and quickly covered my mouth with both hands. My selfishness was showing. My heart was tearing, heat consuming me like rampant wildfire. I couldn’t stand this.

“I’ll go,” she said, glancing at each of us. “Thank you for being here. For showing me what true friendship is. For simply existing. I’m serious. Thank you. I’ve learned a lot from each and every one of you.”

Taeral burst into tears, no longer able to hold them back. Poor Eira was an absolute mess, though I doubted she was anywhere near as destroyed as I was… or Nethissis, who could barely stand, at this point. The outcome was inevitable, yet none of us had truly been prepared for it.

Acantha touched my face gently and moved back, away from the group. “I can’t prolong this any further. I might change my mind if I start hugging you guys.” She chuckled, but her laughter broke as she fully understood what came next. “Whatever happens, I’m doing this for you. Okay? Don’t let it be in vain. Don’t stop until you cancel the ritual, until Death restores everything to its natural balance. Whatever happens.”

I nodded, though my vision blurred. Too many tears, not enough strength to even wipe them away. None of us could move as she turned to face the Widow Maker. “Option B, you stone-cold bastard,” she said, trembling like a blade of grass in the wind. “Take me as a sacrifice for Eirexis.”

The Widow Maker didn’t respond straightaway, and I could swear I saw the air ripple, ever so slightly, close to his head. My mind must’ve been playing tricks on me. The grief I was already succumbing to had to have an impact on my reality. I was so distracted by that faint shimmer that I barely registered the Widow Maker’s reply.

“Thank you, Acantha, for this sliver of wisdom you’re showing. I’ll let the insult pass, given your unfortunate circumstances.” He raised Eirexis in his hand, and only then did I notice its slightly different ends. The bottom was blunt and naked black stone dragon bone, but the top had a thick ring around it—that had to be where the blade, Zetos, would fit. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing the right thing.”

“Will it hurt?” she asked, her back to us, her voice barely audible.

He shook his head. “A willing sacrifice to Eirexis shall never know suffering ever again.”

I wanted to scream, to drag her out of here myself, but every muscle in my body refused to move. Paralyzed, all I could do was watch as the Widow Maker gently tapped her on the forehead with Eirexis’s metallic ring end.

A breath later, and Acantha fell to the ground, lifeless. The symbols carved into Eirexis lit up white, the entire thing humming in response to the sacrifice. The light expanded from within, swallowing the entire room.

And I finally managed to cry out in motherly agony: “Acantha!”

The whole universe had to hear me, this time. The Word had to listen, to understand my suffering, as the light wiped everything around me. In the silence that followed, in the nothing that enveloped me, I felt the cold arms of death… of Death herself, as if she were here, with me, embracing me.

Was this how true grief was supposed to feel? I’d never experienced anything like this before. Was it an illusion? My mind playing tricks again? Or was this sensation real?

Had Death felt my pain, giving me a telepathic hug, perhaps? My Acantha was gone, and the cold arms tightened around me as I let it all out, cry after cry… I unraveled, but they held me together. Death held me together.

Taeral

We were speechless.

As the white light faded and revealed us all, we could tell that this was a new low. The pain we felt would never go away. I’d have to learn to live with it. Acantha had sacrificed herself for us—our only choice, going forward, was to mourn her and make sure we kept the promise she’d asked of us. That we’d keep fighting until the ritual was stopped.

Lumi was on her knees, holding Acantha in her arms and crying into her rich, straw-colored mane. I could only imagine her grief. She’d lost more than an apprentice. She’d lost a daughter, without the blood tie. She’d lost a friend. A soul she’d cherished.

None of us could speak. We just stood upright, victims of fate and unbreakable Death magic, watching as Lumi shed tears for Acantha. The Widow Maker was quiet, and Eirexis was on the ground. It didn’t glow anymore.

“Oh, honey…” Lumi sobbed, slowly rocking back and forth with Acantha in her arms. Nethissis dropped to her knees next to her and touched Acantha’s hair with a trembling hand.

“This is so wrong… The Word should’ve…” Her voice trailed off as she shut her eyes tight, as if forcing herself to stay quiet. Maybe she didn’t want to say something she’d regret later.

The Widow Maker cleared his throat. Given the leather covering his face, I couldn’t tell anything about his expression, but he sounded genuinely sad. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for your loss,” he said. “But this is world-making-and-breaking magic that only Death herself can wield. The Word has no place to intervene, Nethissis.”

Amelia scoffed, wiping her tears. “Well, it’s done. You got your sacrifice.”

“It’s not my sacrifice. Eirexis demanded it,” the Widow Maker replied. “Acantha’s soul is forever tied to it, now.”

He’d said it so matter-of-factly that I didn’t even realize what it meant until Lumi gasped. “Wait… What?”

“She’s at peace, Lumi.” He sighed. “Her soul strengthens Eirexis, and, once Thieron is complete, it will fuel Death’s power even more. Personally, I’m impressed by what she did. It takes a hell of a lot of strength to sacrifice oneself like that.”

Lumi stared at Acantha’s body for a while. I didn’t even dare to tell her that we needed to go. But something else struck me as odd. Eirexis was still on the ground, and the Widow Maker didn’t make a single move to pick it up.

“What now?” I asked.

The Widow Maker crouched by Acantha’s head and pressed a finger against her forehead. Her skin glowed softly beneath his touch. The light intensified and spread out, and Lumi sucked in a breath and moved back. Acantha’s body became liquid light, contracting until it was reduced to the size of a pearl. The Widow Maker scooped it up in his gloved hand, closing it tight.

“What… What are you doing?” Nethissis asked, staring at his hand.

He opened it, revealing a pure white pearl. The most beautiful I had ever seen. “Nobody wants to lug a body around, given what you’re supposed to do next,” the Widow Maker said. “Keep her close to your heart, and, once you lay her to rest, she will reveal herself once more.”

Lumi took the white pearl and looked at it, her lips pressed into a small, thin line. She tucked it inside a hidden chest pocket and frowned at the Widow Maker. “I’ll never forgive Death for this.”

“I know. Many have said this, over the eons. And many eventually understood that she doesn’t really care,” he replied. “There are bigger things to worry about, Lumi. Your quest is just beginning.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He stood up and pointed at Eirexis. “First of all, I’m no longer allowed to touch Eirexis. I’m not bound to it anymore. I’m free. You pick it up.”

“You’re free…” I repeated after him, trying to process what he’d just said. My mind was still adjusting to the thought that Acantha was no longer with us.

“Pick it up,” he insisted.

I looked down at Eirexis. It seemed to be waiting for me, or so I felt, anyway. I reached down, and as soon as I touched it, I felt the cold rush of time itself bursting through me like a winter storm. I swallowed hard as I picked it up, gradually getting used to the sensation. This was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It was as if it was alive, pulsating in my hand and telling me to ask the right questions.

A voice was forming in the back of my head, but I’d yet to make out what it was saying.

“Good. Don’t lose it,” the Widow Maker said. “It is now vulnerable, since I’m no longer inside it. If you drop it, if Brendel takes it away from you, we’re all screwed. Thieron can only be put together if the pieces’ protecting Reapers are released from them, just like you did with Eirexis. Until that moment, they are mere objects, easy for Brendel to grab. Of course, she doesn’t know that, and we want to keep it that way.”

“We?” Amelia shot back, picking up on a nuance I’d actually missed.

“Oh, I’m coming along,” he replied.