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The Thief was right about one thing: the dead don’t everreallydie if you’re kicking it in the Kingdom of Death and Deep Earth. They just change form.

A chill runs over me. Is that what happened to the Thief? Did he just change form?

No, I refuse to believe that.

Des stands, grimacing down at the man. “I wonder if it’s possible to beat the shit out of spirits …”

I take Des’s hand as Galleghar’s spirit begins to separate from his body. “Leave your father to his fate.” I’m sure even the afterlife has its own form of punishment for the wicked.

With that, the two of us leave the room and Des’s father behind.

Before we leave, we free the prisoners locked in the castle’s dungeons. There are forty-four of them in total, all that remains of the prior ruling house.

Their bodies are scarred and emaciated, their eyes have lost that spark hope. One look at them and it’s clear that the Thief won’t be the last struggle this kingdom faces.

And yet, not an hour after they’re released, several of them have moved to the dock, pointing at this or that section of the neglected ship. And the ferryman I saw earlier now wades through the Well of Resurrection, pulling out the spirits, one by one. It’s one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying a lot at this point.

Des steps up to me, his fingers entwining through mine. “Much as I’ve enjoyed our revelries here, I do believe it’s time to go, Callie.”

God, I couldn’t agree more.

We make our way through the castle and back out the front doors.

Above us, the darkness has fled. There’s a sun low on the horizon and cotton candy skies above us. Under the light, even the pale gardens look different—less ominous and more peaceful.

The two of us walk down the path that winds its way from the castle entrance to the archway I passed through earlier, only from this side, the doorway doesn’t quite look the same.

We come to a stop in front of it. On this side, two stone doors are fitted into the enormous archway. Extending from either side of them are massive stone walls that encircle the palace grounds.

I eye the barred gates in front of us. Just before I think we might have to smash into it, the doors creak open, revealing the inky darkness of the Pit beyond it.

“That was … easy,” I say.

All the myths promised that escape from the land of the dead was impossible. But what do I know? No one gave me a guidebook to this place.

“The hard part is coming up,” Des says ominously.

The two of us walk through the gateway, and I only have to struggle a little against whatever enchantments have been placed on it.

When we enter the Pit, Des illuminates the space. He whistles at the sea of skeletons. “That’s a lot of dead bodies.”

It’s a sad sight, but at least the fairy who drove these soldiers to their deaths has now been stopped.

Des comes over to me and wraps a hand around my waist. At his back, his talon-tipped wings shimmer into existence.

“Hold on, cherub,” he says.

“What are you—?”

He launches us up, and the rush of air steals away my words.

Unlike the trip down, nothing touches either Des or me as we ascend. The creatures are either still under my glamour … or they know better than to harm their king.

We barrel upwards for who knows how long before I start to feel it.

Magic.

It bears down on us, pressing against my skin, wanting us to stay in the land of the dead. The higher we climb, the heavier it is. And then it’s not simply pushing down upon us, but inside us, clawing against our flesh from the inside out. It feels like the time I flew on an airplane when I had a sinus infection. My ears are screaming at the pressure, my skin is starting to sting.