“You most certainly do,” I muttered.
“Be careful, Unending. And remember. Nothing she does is selfless. There is a purpose there. Anunit seeks to do harm of some kind, either to you or to me, or both.”
She was right, and I knew it. I also hated it. She couldn’t even make it easy for me to be angry with her. Sometimes there were reasons, good and solid and understandable reasons for her actions, especially where Anunit was concerned. It made it hard for me to control this blistering anger, so I decided to end the communication before I let something slip.
Pulling away from my husband, I gave him a peck on the lips. “Let’s go.”
The alley snaked through the city, traversing several small hills. We crossed abandoned squares with large hexagonal stone tiles and remnants of wrought iron tables. People had gathered here to talk over drinks and perhaps even dance under the moonlight. Trees must’ve grown taller than the buildings here. I could almost hear the glasses clinking and the water trickling in the massive fountains whose stone ghosts still reigned in their centers.
We passed large, administrative looking buildings with wide steps and elegantly sloped roofs. But even here, time had left its mark. The facades had been eaten away, the mortar and bricks revealed.
The Temple of Roses loomed ahead. It no longer had a roof. There was only the skeleton remaining, a hundred columns atop a gargantuan platform foundation. The columns were white marble with ornate bases and equally detailed crowns. The massive cylinders were partially worn down, of course, like everything else, but I could still see the sculpted fine lines of roses and leafy vines. In some places I could even make out thorns, poking from the stems.
I felt queasy. It hurt deeply to be this close to the World Crusher.
Tristan held my hand, his grip tightening as we took a few more steps toward the temple. Despite the light shining down on the city, the space between the columns was dark. A black mist persisted there, obscuring everything, keeping it a secret from the outer world.
“Well, here we are,” my husband muttered. His expression told me everything I needed to know. He was just as uneasy, and it made me wonder.
“Can you feel her?” I asked.
He nodded once. “I think so. I can’t offer a better explanation for the dread that’s been growing inside me for the past couple of hours.”
Towers pierced the blue sky: four giants with sharply pointed conical roofs, the light dancing off their metallic tiles. They were tall and slender structures, and I imagined at least a couple thousand steps between us and the top. I wondered what purpose their height served other than observing the areas surrounding the city. Then I noticed the bells. Each of the towers had been fitted with big, black, iron bells. I doubted they had been rung since the civilization had perished.
A low growl emerged from the temple, sending chills up my spine.
“They’re here,” I whispered.
One by one, the figures emerged from the darkness between the columns. To my surprise, they didn’t look like ordinary ghouls. No… they looked more like Reapers. Slim and clad in black and white, they carried half-moon scythes in their bony hands. They had pale skin, almost white, and obsidian eyes where the stars had long ago burnt out.
There were six of them. Six men of fae origin, I noticed, with long pale blond hair and eerily identical facial features. I wondered if they’d been born brothers, died brothers, and then become Reaper brothers before their eventual downfall. It didn’t make sense that they still had scythes, however. Ghouls and scythes did not belong together.
One of them bore a scar down his right cheek, a delicate pink line that traveled from his temple to the left corner of his mouth. He sneered as he descended the temple’s steps, black boots clicking on the white stone. He gripped his weapon tightly, knuckles almost tearing through his pearlescent skin.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said. His voice made me tremble.
Tristan’s blood was frozen. His temperature had dropped a few more degrees, and his hand was sweating as it clutched mine. These ghouls had a powerful effect on me. I loathed to even imagine what they were doing to my husband, an otherwise fearless creature.
“And yet I stand before you,” I replied, raising my chin in defiance. “You’re keeping a secret in there. I want to know everything about it.”
The scarred ghoul threw his head back and laughed, while the others grinned in amusement as they too reached the ground floor. Mere feet remained between us, and my free hand was already moving toward my scythe. One more step, and I would be forced to use it sooner than I’d hoped.
“You’re brave, I’ll give you that,” the scarred ghoul said. “State your name, so we know who it is we’re sending away.”
“I am Unending, and you will accept my presence, soul eater! Who are you to think you can stop me?”
He smiled. “We are the Ghoul Reapers of Biriane. And we’ve never eaten a soul.”
The statement hit me like a sledgehammer. Its implication didn’t make sense. How were they ghouls and Reapers at the same time? How was this even possible? Questions flooded my mind as I beheld these strange creatures. Unfortunately, Death was not a reliable source right now. I would have to get my truth from the so-called Ghoul Reapers of Biriane instead.
Unending
“How is that even possible?” I asked, unable to look away from these strange and unexpected creatures. They looked more like me than the animalistic ghouls I’d become accustomed to. It was only their eye color that betrayed their nature. Nothing else. Only the blackness in their eyes. It spoke of hunger and solitude, of emptiness and a void that could never be filled.
The first ghoul gave me a faded smile. “There are many things we thought impossible, until they
