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One thing was clear regarding the Ghoul Reapers of Biriane—Death had left them to wither here, doomed to never leave. They had been tasked with further securing and enforcing the magical protections around the World Crusher’s sigil spell, but her wrath had infected them, much like my wrath had caused the Black Fever on Visio.

Except the Ghoul Reapers didn’t fall ill. Their fate was worse: they lost their souls. They couldn’t explain how they were even possible as a “species,” or why they didn’t hunger for souls. They were, as Eneas had put it, an “anomaly.” And anomalies required time and study to gain understanding. Time was not something any of us had handy right now. Besides, the Reaper Ghouls wanted to leave this place. They had other things on their tired, angry minds. Death didn’t know we were here, and even if she had known, I couldn’t turn to her for advice. She would almost certainly cancel the entire operation and order us home, thus keeping the truth beyond my reach. Tristan and I agreed that we couldn’t let that happen.

So we had to figure out another way to appease the Ghoul Reapers. Another way for me to get past them and see the World Crusher’s prison. I needed answers. I needed to understand why she’d been locked away in the first place. Anunit wanted us to release her as part of the third trial, but before we would be willing to do that, two things needed to happen. First, I would have to understand why the World Crusher had been confined here and denied her freedom. Second, I’d have to weigh the arguments for and against her release, and only afterward would I make a decision.

This was where Death and I were nothing alike. I thought of others before myself.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Eneas asked, his shoulders broad and tense. All six Ghoul Reapers had risen from the steps of the Temple of Roses, their half-moon blades thirsting for violence. Their balanced nature had been corrupted by the death of their souls. They were unstable and unpredictable entities, and I had no idea how this encounter would end. I only knew that we’d have to forge a path toward the truth. “Will you break the seals that keep us here?”

“I would need to confer with Death first,” I said.

“That’s silly. You know she won’t allow it. She left us here to rot!” Eneas replied, growing increasingly angrier.

“Perhaps I can convince her otherwise,” I insisted. “Think about it. Think about who I am and what pull I may have with her. You being stuck here is obviously wrong on so many levels, but if I go ahead and free you—provided, of course, that I can figure out the magic that’s binding you to Biriane—Death might punish me. And if there is one thing I’ve had enough of, it’s punishment.”

The Ghoul Reapers exchanged dark glances. They were wary, uncertain in their opinions of me. I needed to steer the conversation in a different direction. I had to find a way to distract them, since they clearly lacked the clarity required for reasonable conversation.

“Tell you what,” I said, as the evening began to settle around us. The sky was turning black and sprinkled with white stars, while the elegant ruins of the city became gray under the faded moonlight. The night made this place seem even lonelier. Empty. Devoid of life. Filled only with simmering rage and bitter resentment. And it was all Death’s doing. “I will discuss this with Death. I owe it to her, and it’s my duty as a Reaper. You haven’t forgotten your own duty, have you?”

Malin was the first to shake his head. “We’ve been nothing but faithful. Devoted to our mission. But we deserve better. If Death couldn’t bring herself to obliterate the World Crusher, why should we have to pay for her soft heart?”

“I completely agree. Nevertheless, protocols must be adhered to. Let me see what Death says to my request on your behalf,” I suggested. “No matter her response, I will make my own decision.”

It took them a long moment to understand what I’d just offered. One by one, their pale faces became illuminated with sly grins, their black eyes reduced to devious slits as they caught on. “You mean to help us either way,” Eneas said quietly.

“I mean to make my own decision,” I repeated myself, steering clear of any promises. “But in the meantime, you should at least grant me access inside. I only wish to see the book where she’s kept. Never have I seen a seal in the form of a book before.”

Deas pointed his scythe at me. “You get nothing for free.”

The longer I stayed here, the worse it felt. The World Crusher’s anger was poisoning me, though it would take much longer—perhaps eons—to kill my soul the way it had done to these poor fiends. Glancing at Tristan, I reached out telepathically. How are you feeling? I asked.

Okay, for now. Though heavier than usual…

It’s the World Crusher’s effect,I replied, then shifted focus back to the Ghoul Reapers. “Okay. I’ll fight you for access. A duel. Your best against me.”

None were strong enough to take me down, that much was obvious. And there was enough anger between them to make such a duel enticing to them. They obviously needed an outlet, and they wanted violence to blow off steam. I imagined the Ghoul Reapers had grown bored in this world. Its civilization had perished ages ago. They were probably tired of each other’s company too. My presence was something new.

What are you doing?Tristan asked telepathically.

Keeping them entertained,I replied. We need to establish a rapport, to gain some goodwill from these wretches. They’re furious and miserable, and I cannot talk to Death about them, not without destroying this entire operation. I’m buying us time. If I get access to the book, at least I can read from it and maybe get closer to the truth. They’re too unstable to cooperate otherwise.

Just… be careful,he said, sighing.

Eneas chuckled. “You mean to fight one of us?”

“Did I not make myself clear?” I replied, raising my chin.

“And in return, you wish to be allowed inside the Temple of Roses, so that you may read the World Crusher’s book,” Eneas said. His brothers were intrigued. At least two of them were fidgeting, eager to take me on. I’d piqued their interest.

I nodded once. “Assuming, of course, there’s a tale to be read in those pages?”

“Yes. Or so Death said. We’re not allowed anywhere near the damn book,” Filicore replied. “We’ve been true to our orders, in spite of what it has cost us. That has to count for something. Remember it when you address our issue with Death.”

This meant they knew nothing about the seals that held the World Crusher down. They’d only fashioned charms and spells of their own to protect the Temple of Roses and to prevent the true first Reaper’s rage from infecting and… well, crushing this world. They had failed, but they had stayed true to their orders. They’d tried. And in return, they’d lost their souls.

“Fine then,” Eneas said. “One of us will engage in a duel. But not against you.”

Chills spread through me. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the champion among my brothers,” Hadras stated. “And I challenge your vampire husband.”

“That’s not right. Tristan isn’t equipped to fight you. He’s not even a Reaper,” I snapped, the frost gripping me by the back of my neck and stiffening my spine. This wasn’t where I’d imagined the conversation going.

Eneas shrugged, slightly amused. “Tough, then. It’s the only way we’ll give you access to the book. It’s either that, or you walk away, right now, and never return.”

“But if you comply, we’ll know you’re true to your word,” Hadras added. “We’ll know you actually intend to speak to Death about us.”

That didn’t make much sense to me, but it did to them, and they were the ones calling the shots here. It was their magic that stopped anyone, alive or otherwise, from setting foot inside the Temple of Roses. I could’ve approached things differently and gone behind the Ghoul Reapers’ backs, but we only had three days to complete the trial. Three days to get to the truth. It wasn’t much time.

“Hadras will fight Tristan. If Tristan wins, you will gain access to the book of the World Crusher,” Eneas reiterated. “But you will not leave this place until you ask Death to release us. Regardless of her answer, you will not leave this place until you set us free. Am I clear? It is the only way I will allow you to lay eyes upon the book.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” I muttered, understanding the complex consequences that the statement entailed. Warring against the Ghoul Reapers was the last thing I wanted. We had enough on our plates already, so I calculated that treading carefully and jumping through their hoops was the better of the available options.

Tristan reached out telepathically. Let me do it. I can hold a scythe now, remember?

And we had yet to learn why. Death hadn’t said much on the topic, and this certainly wasn’t the right time to bring it up again. But my husband had a point. He could wield my weapon, and he’d delivered quite the injury to Joy not that long ago. The Ghoul Reapers didn’t know that.

“And if Tristan loses?” I asked Eneas, my gaze wandering back to Hadras. He was slightly taller than his brothers. Perhaps bigger, too, at least in muscle mass. He was still lean and agile, but he carried himself with a certain weight. The air of a champion.

“He dies. I reap him. And we’ll end it there,” Eneas replied dryly. “If you’re to be left a widow, I doubt you’ll wish to help us with Death.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice that opportunity just for the sake of killing my husband?” I asked, trying to make sense of what was obviously no more than bloodthirsty madness. They’d been here for so long—unsupervised, chaotic, and utterly out of their minds—that this arrangement only made sense for them. But if I was to gain access to the damned book, I’d have to play along. My husband, my soulmate, my eternal love would have to play along.

“What else have we got left?” Fileas replied.

Best to keep things simple. I would trust my husband—he had never steered me wrong. Tristan gave me a smile, quietly reading my mind. He stepped forward and addressed the Ghoul Reapers’ champion. “I’ll take you on, Hadras. I may not be able to kill you, but perhaps I will make you yield.”

“Let’s see what happens,” Hadras chuckled, delighted. “I won’t end you too quickly, I promise. I will give you the opportunity to fight. It’s been a long time since I’ve dueled someone, so I want this to last.”

My heart swelled as I looked at my husband, his loving eyes peering into my weary soul. He reached out a hand, and I gave him my scythe. “I have faith in you,” I told him.

“And I in you, my love,” he replied, fingers closing around the sculpted handle. Tristan looked rather handsome with my scythe. The last time he’d been forced to use it, everything had happened so fast that I’d missed the chance to observe him this closely before.

The Ghoul Reapers were stunned. “What are you doing?” Hadras gasped, his black eyes round as marbles.

“Well, my champion needs a weapon too,” I said, deeply satisfied with their astonishment.

They hadn’t seen this coming, and it made an important difference. They’d hoped my beloved would fight them with only his claws and fangs. That they might play with him like a cat would play with a mouse before breaking its spine. Tristan was, in fact, adequately equipped to fight any one of them. He’d been by my side for two decades. We’d even battled the occasional rogue ghouls together on our journeys throughout the universe.

These were Ghoul Reapers, sure, and probably stronger than Tristan. But Tristan wasn’t an amateur. While he didn’t strike most as a fighter, he had what it would take to duel Hadras. Even so, it didn’t stop me from fearing for his life. We looked at one another in that moment, thinking the same thing: neither of us expected this to be easy.