“Time to go Mission Impossible,” Jericho whispered, smiling at me.
I carried a lockpicking kit in my back pocket at all times. It was a small thing—a leather case the size of my palm with three slender metallic pins, to which Amal and Amane had added magi-tech circuitry that allowed one end to change its shape and adapt to virtually any lock in existence. The set didn’t work against death magic, of course, but it had a good rate of success in any other circumstance.
Feeling Myst and Brandon’s curious eyes on me, I took out one pin and blew gently against its sharp tip. It lit up white, activating the mechanism inside. Carefully, I approached the door in question, while Astra and Viola watched the faint silhouettes beyond the frosted glass panes. There were three, and none were moving. We had a minute to get this done, tops. None of us wanted to be there for any longer than necessary. Every second we spent so deep within enemy territory put us at risk for serious trouble.
I slipped the illuminated pin into the lock and listened to the delicate whirring of magi-tech shifting the metal into something capable of opening the door. I heard the first click and grinned, but my good humor vanished as the door swung open before the second and equally important click. Normally, I needed three clicks for confirmation. This was way too soon.
Astra gasped, and I found myself standing before a mountain of a man, dark shadows oozing off him and phosphorescent blue eyes peering right into my soul. I jumped back, holding my breath and praying to all the gods that maybe this Berserker hadn’t seen me. That maybe the click had caught his attention, and nothing else. Technically speaking, he couldn’t see us.
“You know, it’s bad manners to show up uninvited,” he said, his gaze still fixed on me.
“Crap,” I murmured, realizing that he absolutely could see me.
“Torrhen,” Myst managed, her eyes widening. It made him laugh.
“Did you really think you weren’t expected?” Torrhen replied, then snapped his fingers. A cold wave blew through me like an electrical current. I felt something snap inside me, and suddenly we were visible again, our magic rendered useless by the Berserker’s simple gesture.
I froze on the spot, unsure what to do next. I hadn’t expected this. Or, more accurately, I had hoped this wouldn’t happen.
Myst and Brandon revealed themselves. There was no point in hiding, since Torrhen could obviously see them. He smiled broadly, as if they were just two friends who’d come to visit, friends he hadn’t seen in a long time. “It’s an honor to see you both,” he said. “I was wondering when you would finally join forces. It’s futile, either way, but I’m sure you’re more efficient when working together.”
“What is going on here?” Astra whispered, pale as a sheet of paper.
“Torrhen has the all-seeing eye, so to speak,” Brandon sighed. “I didn’t know he was here. Otherwise, I never would have allowed you to come.”
“The all-seeing eye,” I mumbled, trying to take in as much as I could about this colossal Berserker. He was huge, much like Haldor, with broad shoulders and a black, messy mohawk that was a few inches too long and was hanging slightly to one side. A third eye had been tattooed onto his forehead. The iris glowed blue, much like his gaze.
“Nothing gets past me,” Torrhen chuckled. “Not walls, not magic, not steel nor concrete nor sigils and wards. Nothing. I see everything.”
“Even things he doesn’t want to see,” Brandon said. “It’s made him neurotic.”
Torrhen shot him a cold glare. “You have to answer to HQ for what you’ve done. How many more passes do you think you’re going to get before they tear Hammer to shreds, huh?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve gotten away with it so far,” Brandon replied dryly.
“Don’t be a fool,” Myst warned the all-seeing Berserker. “You’ve picked the wrong side, Torrhen. It will not end well for you.”
He didn’t seem to care. “Well, you’re a lone little Valkyrie lost in a realm you cannot escape from, completely cut off from Order. And your living friends here are on HQ’s most-wanted list. If anyone will have to deal with a shoddy ending, it’s you. And them,” he said, nodding my way.
I knew Isabelle, Voss, and Chantal were right behind him inside that glass unit. But we had one hell of an obstacle to deal with, in order to get to them. And this guy talked about offing us like it was just another day at the office.
We hadn’t come into this expecting everything to go smoothly, but I would’ve liked a slightly easier time at getting my friends out of this hellhole. As chills tumbled down my spine under the all-seeing eye’s troubling gaze, I knew things were about to get bloody, fast.
Unless I did something bold. Or stupid. Or both.
Tristan
Unending was not the first Reaper ever made.
This newly discovered fact had yet to fully sink in. It had rendered her silent. At first, I’d been tempted to suspect Anunit of lying, hoping it might only be a trick to get us to do what she wanted. But the Reaper’s record so far said otherwise. The first trial had revealed the existence of soul fae, whom Death had declared extinct ages ago. The second trial had revealed the existence of a man she’d gifted with immortality, death magic knowledge, and a scythe of his own—all of which went against every beratement she’d pummeled Unending with regarding Erethiel. This third trial was bound to be just as scandalous, if not more so… and what would be more scandalous than revealing that Unending was not Death’s first creation?
No, Anunit had spoken the truth. We were simply struggling to accept it.
Unending’s anger simmered just beneath the surface, coming off her cool skin
