Page 1 of Redemption (Deliverance Duet #2)

Nyx

D eath is the one thing in life we can undoubtedly rely upon. It is our one certainty, yet it’s so strongly fought against. No matter your age or race, death does not discriminate. Even the long-lived races will eventually face my judgement and enter the realm of the dead.

Many curse my name or plead with me for more time, thinking I decide who lives and who dies, but this is not the case. Magical bindings restrict me like a vice. If the Fates decide it is your time to cease living, then I am bound to follow their judgement and unable to change the outcome, whether I wish to or not. For some, the Fates do not get involved, allowing the being to live out their life until they meet their natural end. Others are taken too soon, yet once they die and their spirit leaves the realm of the living, it is out of my hands.

There are some who praise and worship me, calling on me to bring destruction upon their enemies, and sometimes, I might listen, but mostly I have little sway, so I don’t bother with their prayers.

For others, I am a comfort, a quiet, gentle embrace in the night that takes away pain and struggle, and I will listen to their prayers. Finally, they can rest and have the peace they deserve.

I have been given many names over the years—the god of death, the reaper, Thanatos, Azrael, or even just Death. I go by them all, but only one person calls me by my actual name, and that is the lifeless female in my arms.

I have broken the rules for her, ignoring the Fates and changing her path forever. I refuse to believe this is what was outlined for her. This was not the way she was supposed to die, and I will not allow it to happen.

Even if the Fates appear before me now and strike me to the ground, I will not regret my decision. She is my world, my heart, and the reason for my existence. I will be classified as the villain for this due to the changes it will cause in the world. There will be repercussions for my actions, but I shall take them as long as it means Iris will live. Let them think I am a villain, for I would tear this world apart for her without one morsel of regret.

Lowering her body onto the black sheets on my bed, I rearrange her limbs so she will be comfortable when she wakes. Her soul glows inside me, kept safe with my magic, and I check on it constantly like an anxious mother taking her child outside for the first time. The other gods would laugh if they could see me now.

She is so still and pale, the wound over her heart appearing all the brighter in comparison to her white skin and the light of this realm. Bodies are vessels for the soul, and without one, a soul can die and move on, which is exactly what would have happened to Iris if I hadn’t been there and acted quickly. Her body needs to be healed so the soul can return. I am not used to putting souls back into bodies, usually taking them to be judged rather than returning them.

I close my eyes and coax her soul forward. It comes willingly, and I cup it in my hands before gently pressing it against her chest. Pushing my own energy and magic into her body, I heal her wound at the same time I fuse her soul to its rightful place. There are a few heavy, agonising seconds, and I start to worry. Was I too late? Is my magic not powerful enough to heal her body? Are the Fates stopping me?

Movement catches my eye, my heart pounding as I look for signs of life.

She starts to breathe.

She’s breathing. She’s alive.

I stagger back, drained from sharing my energy, but I don’t regret a moment of it. My breath quickens with nervous excitement as I watch her chest gently rise and fall. It will take her a while to wake now, because her body needs to rest.

This is fine, as I have important tasks to take care of while she’s healing—such as planning revenge against the bastards who killed my mate.