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Her eyes bowed with deep sympathy.

She didn’t know if telling the truth would be wrong, but she did know false hope was a bitter curse. One that was better lifted before it was too late.

“Heaven is the afterworld, Ingram.”

“It is?” he asked with a high note of curiosity. He darted his raven skull to her. “Then we can find them at the same time. We can do this together.”

Emerie reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him and making him turn to her. This conversation was too important to have while walking.

“People don’t come back from the afterworld, Ingram. It’s not a place you and I can go while we’re still alive.”

“You don’t know this,” he argued defensively.

“I do,” she answered, making her words stern. “I know you want him back, just like I want Gideon back, but that’s not how life works. Death is permanent.”

He dismissively wagged his head from side to side. “For a human, perhaps.”

“For everything. It doesn’t matter what creature, whether they be human, animal, Demon, or even a Duskwalker.”

“The Witch Owl said that Mavka are life and death. That we are limbo.” When she opened her mouth to refute him, his blue orbs turned bright crimson, and he jerked forward to growl.“You are wrong, Emerie,”he snarled, his voice changing into the monstrous one she’d always heard, but it was startling with him more humanoid like this.

She flinched and threw her hands up like she was warding him back and surrendering. “Okay. I’m wrong,” she conceded, unwilling to further upset him.

If that was what he wanted to believe, then she would let him. Who was she to say otherwise? He was a Duskwalker, and humans knew very little about them.

Maybe he was right. She was even hoping that was the case, and if not... well, that washisbattle to face. If she was still alive for it, she would just try to comfort him through it.

It was said there were five stages to grief: anger, denial, depression, bargaining, and acceptance – although not necessarily in that order.

She knew, for certain, Ingram was stuck in the denial phase. She wondered if his level of humanity was capable enough to transcend into acceptance, or if he would be stuck in this state forever.

Hope could be a cruel master. It could make people do reckless and stupid things... like a Duskwalker asking Demonslayers for aid.

Or trying to kill the Demon King.

At least if I stay with him, I might be able to convince him not to do anything... foolish.

Sitting on the ground with his tail curled around his crossed legs, Ingram kept his arms folded across his chest. Although his body was facing Emerie, his head was purposefully directed away from her.

“If you keep sulking, I’ll treat you like a kid,” she playfully bit out.

Orbs red and his tail tip tapping against the ground in irritation, he huffed in answer.

“Awww, come on. Don’t be like that.” When he didn’t settle, she walked in front of his face and put her hands on her ample hips. “I already said I was sorry.”

Ingram rotated his head until it was behind him and threatening to come back around the other side. In his peripheral, he noticed she stuck her tongue out at him.

He’d never seen her do this before, but her scrunched-up features informed him he was upsetting her. Then it was even more obvious when she threw up her hands, rolled her eyes, and stormed out of sight.

It was done at him in retaliation.

So Ingram spun his head around and did it back at her, sticking his purple tongue out past the tip of his beak.

“Rude!” she exclaimed, plopping her arse upon the grass. “How dare you do that back to me! You’re lucky you’re cute, otherwise I wouldn’t offer for you to come sit next to me while I sleep.”

“I do not want to be near you,” he grumbled, hating how his tail coiled in delight that she’d called him cute.

She’d never called him that before, but he remembered Raewyn, his Elf friend, had done so and explained what it meant. Cute, adorable – he liked these things.