Page 59 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

I could still feel the phantom sensation of Rhyker’s touch on my skin, could still taste his kiss on my lips. His declaration of love echoed in my mind, a lifeline I clung to as terror threatened to drown me.

I had no idea what he’d said to Sevrin, but whatever it was had bought us some time.

It only took one look for me to understand he had a plan, and I would do my best to play along with whatever it was.

Those eyes—fierce, desperate, pleading with me to play along.

And I did. I knew he was trying to buy us time, to find a way out of this nightmare.

But time for what? What could possibly save us now?

The Reapers surrounded us in a tight formation, their black cloaks billowing around them.

I risked a glance at Rhyker, walking beside me with his head held high, his face an impassive mask.

Only I could see the storm raging behind those gray eyes, the calculations, the desperate plans forming and discarding with each step.

Terror clawed at my insides. If they reaped me now, it wouldn’t just mean the end of me.

It would mean the end of us .

The Reaper holding me grabbed me tight, and with a whoosh I was somewhere else entirely.

The other Reapers and Rhyker all materialized beside us in an instant, his eyes snapping to me instantly.

And there, looming in front of me like something from a nightmare, stood what could only be the Umbral Keep .

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of it.

Calling it a castle would be like calling a hurricane a breeze.

It was a monstrosity of black stone that seemed to devour what little light existed in this realm.

Twisted spires reached upward like claws trying to tear at the perpetual twilight sky, each one adorned with grotesque gargoyles that appeared far too lifelike.

I half expected them to snarl as we approached.

“Welcome to your new home,” the Reaper holding me sneered. “For the next few minutes, anyway. Then it’s oblivion for you.”

I forced myself not to react, not to show the bone-deep fear his words stirred in me. Instead, I straightened my spine and lifted my chin, channeling every ounce of defiance I could muster.

We approached the massive gates that stood at least thirty feet high, carved from some black material that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

Scenes of death and suffering had been etched into its surface—souls being reaped, doors appearing, others being dragged down into what looked like hell itself.

The gates swung open silently as we approached, revealing a courtyard teeming with more Reapers than I could count.

Most of their faces were obscured by hoods, their bodies seeming to blend into the shadows around them.

Some though, I could see their faces. They looked.

.. normal. Like regular fae. Men, women, different skin colors, different hair colors, different sizes.

But there was nothing normal about the way they watched me like prey.

The weight of their stares pressed down on me like a physical thing. I could feel their curiosity, their hunger, their anticipation. Was this entertaining for them? The spectacle of Death himself being marched through their midst with a soul he’d failed to reap?

I glanced at Rhyker, desperate to hear his voice, to have some connection to him in this sea of hostility. To ask him about this place and hear the comfort in his words that everything would be okay.

But he kept his eyes straight ahead, his jaw tight as he marched with me toward the castle ahead. He looked cold. Calculating. The Reaper I’d met not long ago. But there, inside his eyes I could see it.

Fear .

But so carefully concealed that only I, who knew him better than anyone, could detect it. It sent a chill through me. If Rhyker was afraid, then the situation was even more dire than I’d imagined.

We were led through a series of corridors, each darker and more oppressive than the last. The stone beneath our feet was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting distorted versions of ourselves as we walked.

Torches lined the walls, but their flames burned an unnatural violet-black, casting more shadows than light.

The air grew colder as we descended deeper into the Keep, the silence broken only by the echoing of our footsteps. I lost all sense of direction, of time, as we wound through this labyrinth of darkness.

Finally, we reached a set of towering black doors, so tall I had to crane my neck to see the symbols glowing above them.

“Welcome to the Soul Sanctum,” the Reaper holding me whispered, his voice tinged with contempt. “Time for you to meet the Veil Lords.”

The doors swung open with an ominous groan, revealing a cavernous chamber beyond. The Reaper shoved me forward, and I stumbled into the room, my eyes adjusting quickly to the change in light.

And as I looked around, I wished they hadn’t.

Five massive black thrones stood upon a dais at the far end of the chamber, each one occupied by a figure that defied description.

The Veil Lords were more terrifying than any Reaper I’d seen, their forms so dark they looked like shadows made real.

Their faces were completely hidden within deep hoods, but I could see their eyes—swirling vortexes of color that shifted and changed, the only bright thing in this realm of darkness.

At their feet, creatures prowled—dark beasts of nightmarish form.

They resembled wolves or big cats, but they looked more like some terrifying post-apocalyptic zombie versions.

Their bodies rippled with darkness as they stalked the periphery of the room.

One turned its head toward me, and I saw its eyes burning like embers, intelligent and hungry.

It growled, a sound that seemed to vibrate through my very soul, and I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped me.

Standing beside each throne was a tall, winged female warrior, their bodies more substantial than the Veil Lords, like powerful warriors I imagined could slaughter countless in an instant.

Their wings were massive, spanning at least twelve feet each, and their eyes glowed like fire.

They stood perfectly still, unblinking, their hands resting on weapons that seemed forged from shadow itself.

At the center of the chamber, floating several feet off the ground, was a massive orb pulsing with silvery light. Other than several sconces on the wall with those strange purple flames, it was the only source of illumination in the room, its glow somehow both soothing and terrifying.

We were forced to a halt at the foot of the dais. The Reaper holding me shoved me to my knees. If I’d had any kind of feeling, I’d have cried out from the force of my landing. But instead, I felt nothing in this hollow soul I’d been cast back into.

For several moments, there was only silence. The Veil Lords studied us, their color-shifting eyes unreadable, their shadowy forms utterly still.

Then one spoke, his voice deep and resonant, seeming to echo from everywhere at once .

“Death,” he said, the single word carrying enough power to make the air vibrate. “You have much to explain.”

Rhyker stepped forward and bowed his head, his gaze fixated on the floor. A posture of obedience that looked unnatural coming from a man as powerful as him.

“My Lords,” he said, his voice carefully modulated to reveal nothing.

“You disappeared,” another Veil Lord said, her voice like ice skating across my skin. “For days. Without explanation. Without permission.”

“And now you return,” a third added, “with the very soul you were sent to reap still intact. Still existent.”

“Explain yourself,” the first demanded.

Rhyker raised his head, his face composed into a mask of calm subservience that looked so foreign on his features it was almost like watching a stranger.

“My Lords,” he began, “I was indeed sent to reap this soul.” He gestured toward me without looking at me. “She appeared in Faelora, an anomaly that eluded other Reapers. I tracked her as ordered, but when I attempted to bring her into the Shadowveil to reap her, something unusual occurred.”

“What?” demanded a Veil Lord with eyes that swirled with blues and greens.

“She disappeared,” Rhyker said. “Vanished completely. I later discovered she is a human-fae hybrid with the ability to Realm Walk—even between life and death. Every time I would corner her, she would shift realms before I could complete the reaping.”

The Veil Lords stirred, murmuring among themselves in a language I couldn’t understand. The shadow beasts at their feet grew more agitated, prowling in tighter circles .

“How did you find yourself in the living realm? That is unheard of for a Reaper to cross the veil,” the female Veil Lord asked, her tone sharp with suspicion.

“When I finally managed to grab her and pull her into the Veil,” Rhyker explained, “she panicked and shifted realms again. But because I was holding her, I was pulled along.” He paused, his expression one of careful confusion.

“I don’t understand how it happened, but suddenly I was on the other side. ”

I marveled at the lie—so smooth, so detailed, so carefully crafted to protect both me and Selyse, while explaining away both his absence and our connection. He was brilliant, my Reaper.

“An interesting tale,” one of the Veil Lords said, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying through the chamber like a cold wind.

“But that doesn’t explain why you were embracing this soul when Sevrin found you.

Why reports suggest you may have been...

” he paused, as if the word tasted foul, “...intimate with it.”

“My Lords,” Rhyker said, his voice steady despite the tension I could see in his shoulders. “I request permission to speak with you privately on this matter. There are... complexities regarding this soul that require your consideration.”

“Complexities?” the female Veil Lord repeated, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Yes, my Lords,” Rhyker said. “Information that may be... sensitive.” He glanced around the chamber, at the gathered Reapers. “For your ears only.”

The Veil Lords exchanged looks, their swirling eyes communicating in some silent language. Finally, the first nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “We will hear you. Alone.”

The female Veil Lord raised a hand, and two Reapers immediately stepped forward to haul me to my feet. “Take this soul to the holding chambers,” she commanded. “We will deal with it after we’ve heard what Death has to say.”

Panic clawed at my throat as they began dragging me away from Rhyker. Away from the only being in this nightmare realm who cared whether I existed or not. Away from the man I loved.

“Rhyker!” I cried out, unable to stop myself, fear overwhelming my attempt to play along with his charade.

He turned then, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since we’d entered the Soul Sanctum. In that brief moment, I saw everything he couldn’t say aloud—his love, his determination, his promise.

One look. That was all he could give me.

But in that look was a vow more powerful than any words could convey: He was going to save me. Somehow, against all odds, against the Veil Lords themselves, he would find a way.

And though it seemed impossible—though every rational part of me screamed that this was the end—I believed him.

I clung to that belief as the Reapers dragged me from the chamber, the massive doors closing behind me with a sound like a death knell. I clung to it as they pulled me through more twisting corridors, down spiraling staircases that seemed to descend forever into the bowels of the Umbral Keep.

I clung to it as they threw me into a small, dank cell made of black stone, the door slamming shut with a finality that echoed in my bones.

I clung to that belief—to the memory of his eyes, to the echo of his voice whispering he loved me—as darkness closed around me, complete and absolute.

And I waited for Death to come for me once more.

Not to end me this time.

But to save me.