I gawked at him, stunned by what he’d just declared. The Widow Maker was coming with us. Was that good? It had to be good. I wanted it to be good, but my instinct warned me not to get too excited. It didn’t mean he’d help us. By now, I’d learned not to trust Reapers with anything. One had tried to kill us, another had saved us, and this third one had cost us the life of one of our own.

Nothing coming from him could be taken without a grain of salt.

Seeley

I’d been with them since they’d reached the imperial palace. I’d seen and heard everything, but I hadn’t intervened until Death mandated it. Of course, I’d been itching to help since I’d first noticed Medina’s inconsistencies, and I’d seen the Shills coming long before Taeral and his crew had.

However, I was bound by my duty to Death, helplessly watching them fight off all manner of evil as they tried to get to Eirexis. I’d cursed, inwardly, at the developments leading up to Acantha’s choice to sacrifice herself.

But I cursed at myself, for I’d been the one to whisper in her ear. Unseen by the others, I’d heard Death’s telepathic message, telling me to help them without making myself visible. Gah, what a cruel mistress she was… I had to obey. Death was my patron, my maker, my only authority. I took a while to find the right way to help them—the most important thing was to keep them from choosing to fight the Widow Maker. I knew what he could do, and he’d spoken nothing but the truth, as far as the Eirexis challenge went.

They never would’ve won in a fair fight. He even would’ve refrained from using his subtle form, to help them, and still… they would’ve lost.

A sacrifice had been the only choice, and it hadn’t come as a shock to see them unable to pick one of their own to come forth as the offering to Eirexis. So, I’d analyzed their lives and their odds to live, as soon as Death had sent me her message. I wasn’t normally allowed to peer into someone’s possible futures, but, since Death didn’t stop me, I figured I could get away with it. The only thing I could do was single out the crew member with the highest chance of dying in the near future.

I’d rummaged through billions of possible life threads, using a spell I wasn’t even supposed to know—but, then again, Death had implanted it into my head without me even knowing it, for reasons yet unknown to me. I’d found that, out of the entire crew, Acantha and Nethissis were the most likely to die prematurely, sooner or later. Despite their Word connection and their insane skills, their life threads were the shortest, in most of the possible outcomes. To me, that meant that either one of them was better off dying now, doing the right thing through sacrifice, than dying later at the hands of a cunning Hermessi or something much worse.

As they’d all pondered this concept of self-sacrifice, their grief and fear tearing them down gradually, I’d tried to make a decision between Acantha and Nethissis. At first, I’d been inclined to get Nethissis on board, since she’d already offered—her possible-premature-death futures outnumbered Acantha’s by three. But there was something about her, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, that stopped me in my tracks.

Maybe it had to do with her arresting looks, the white eyes with slim, yellow circles around the irises. Or maybe it was the way she’d thought of herself as a sacrifice before anyone else had. Nethissis had a certain flair about her, a fierceness I hadn’t seen in a long time, simmering just beneath the surface. Her flaws and her dreams made her precious, and she didn’t even know it. She had no idea of the greatness in store for her if she made the right choices in the future, for there were still possible future threads where she’d go on to live for a long time.

Whatever it was, it affected me. It skewed my judgment, and I wasn’t proud of it. Without anyone knowing I was there, I’d walked over to Acantha… and I’d whispered in her ear. As a Reaper and a former sentry, my talents were unique, as I’d retained an ability to implant ideas and thoughts into the minds of the living. Acantha had wanted to sacrifice herself, of course. But she’d been nowhere near as determined as Nethissis.

In the end, a sacrifice was made, as Acantha had stepped forward with impressive determination. I’d then whispered to the Widow Maker, who, by then, had already become aware of my presence. We’d spoken, telepathically, and I’d made him smooth things along. I’d asked him not to make her suffer, and to ease everything else for the crew. Death, in a way, had commanded it, once the Widow Maker was free of his bonds.

“You’re coming with us?” Raphael asked the Widow Maker, still unable to process that statement. Not that I could blame him, as I myself was equally astonished by his decision.

The Widow Maker nodded. “Yes. I’m a free Reaper now. I can do whatever I want,” he said. “And since Death wants Thieron back, I’m pretty sure I have final word as to how I’m going to assist you.”

The crew was understandably shocked. Taeral, however, seemed uneasy, for all the right reasons. Their brushes with Reapers had been anything but pleasant, until now. The Widow Maker glanced my way for a moment but didn’t say a word. He knew we’d have a more in-depth conversation later. In the meantime, I was rather relieved to know they had two Reapers on their side, going forward, not one. The Widow Maker was powerful and practically timeless, and I couldn’t help but feel thrilled that he’d joined us. I had a lot to learn from the guy.

“Why should we trust you?” Taeral asked. “You killed Acantha.”

“No. Acantha sacrificed herself. I merely facilitated that,” the Widow Maker corrected him. “Two very different things, despite your moral code. You should be glad I’m coming with. You kids need all the help you can get.”

Lumi sighed, finally getting up. I felt bad for her, but it had to be done. I felt worse for Acantha, because her soul had been absorbed into Eirexis. I hadn’t even had the chance to reap her and tell her how sorry I was…

“Taeral, he’s right,” she said. “He’s one of Death’s first Reapers, and you’ve seen what he can do. He’ll come in handy in keeping the Hermessi away.”

“Oh, that… That’s no longer all that possible anymore,” the Widow Maker replied. “I could keep the Hermessi away and cut off your Telluris links because I was powered by my link to Eirexis. We’re two different entities now.”

“And that rendered you basically useless?” Raphael grumbled, his brow furrowed.

“Not exactly,” the Widow Maker said. “I can still do those things, but for much shorter periods of time, at a lower intensity. The Reaper mojo is still there, just not as potent. It will wear me out, too, given its cosmic nature.”

“Then what good are you?” Herakles shot back.

I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. They were so busy holding a grudge against the Widow Maker that they had a hard time accepting what a valuable asset he actually was. Naturally, I knew that would pass, but the Widow Maker needed to ease them into it a little bit more. I communicated that to him, mentally, and he took a deep breath, without antagonizing anyone in Taeral’s crew.

“A Reaper is always useful when you’re looking for Thieron’s other pieces,” he said.

I knew Death wouldn’t dare compel the Widow Maker back into a subtle form and away from this quest. I had my orders to stay quiet, but he had a bit more freedom now, after he’d spent millions of years hidden away inside Eirexis. He’d earned it.

“You know where Zetos is, then?” Taeral asked. He put the scythe back into his thigh pocket and tied a leather string tight around Eirexis, keeping it safely tethered to his belt.

The Widow Maker nodded. “I do.”

A few seconds passed in tense silence.

“Well, go on!” Herakles blurted.

“The Fire Star,” the Widow Maker replied.

Taeral’s eyes almost popped out of their orbits. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“The scythe reacted to its proximity to Eirexis,” Eira said, somewhat confused. “Why didn’t it do the same when we were on the Fire Star, prior to our departure to Cerix?”

“Little-known fact about scythes and Death, in general… Nothing is ever a pattern with her. Not all three pieces of Thieron respond to a Reaper’s scythe the same way,” the Widow Maker explained.

“With Eirexis, the scythe glowed and vibrated,” Taeral said.

“It’s not the same with Zetos,” the Widow Maker replied. “Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. Death makes things in ways that don’t make sense to us. Just take it as it is, and, should you ever get the chance, ask Death yourself.”

“But you know exactly where Zetos is,” Lumi said.

He nodded. “I do. I’ll take you to it. First, however, we really need to get out of here.”

The booms and thuds increased their intensity outside. The elemental fight was reaching a whole new level of viciousness.

“Fallon is up there,” Taeral said.

“He’s with Kabbah. He’ll probably find you later. Now, let’s go. The protections I put in place are no longer working,” the Widow Maker urged them.

Amelia cursed under her breath. “Medina. We can’t leave without letting the emperor know, without settling the score with that wretched creature!”

I actually agreed with her. Besides, after losing Acantha, I figured they needed to blow off some steam. Unmasking and beating the daylights out of a Hermessi cult member could easily qualify as therapy for these people.

Taeral nodded. “Good point. We’re heading back to the palace, then.”

“Link hands,” Riza said. “I’ll do the teleporting this time.”

They huddled together, making sure they were all physically connected, while the Widow Maker stood to the side, his hands resting on his hips. Taeral gave him a cold stare. “Are you coming or what?”

“I don’t need to cuddle with you to follow you around. Reaper, ancient type, remember?” he replied, pointing a thumb at himself. That was true. I’d been able to follow them with great ease. Once a Reaper locked on to someone, they were forever in the Reaper’s sight. Never lost. Never hidden.

The crew vanished, leaving behind an empty room. The Shills’ ashes had settled across the floor. The pond’s crystalline water glimmered softly. For millions of years, this chamber had been the silent home of Eirexis. It seemed a little sad now, with Eirexis gone, without a purpose. Time would finally take care of it, though.

Bit by bit, the stones would be turned to rubble. The water would dig its way through. The tunnel system would eventually collapse. Time didn’t spare anyone, regardless of the tricks used to stall it.