The screams became wails, and the clash of steel and stomp of boots replaced the music and tinkling of glass as soldiers rushed to the town square. Glancing back, I saw sparks and flickers as someone tried to ignite fires, but the black swallowed them as quickly as they appeared.

My first thought was that I'd somehow consumed the fire. Stumbling back, I pressed a hand to the center of my chest, searching for evidence of the heat inside of me. There was nothing but night cooled skin under my palm. Convinced I wasn't at fault, I spun around to resume climbing.

"Where are they?" I grunted, running my hand over the wall because I could not see the slits.

Fingers shot forward into a hole, and I kept my hand there as I searched for a toehold. It would be slow going this way, but I didn't dare attempt leaving the village any other way. Whatever madness had laid claim to the others had not reached me here in the alley. But when I tried to pull myself up, searing pain ripped through the arm I'd landed on, and I nearly fell backward again.

"No," I cried, hitting the stone with a fist. "Astreia! Can you hear me?"

No response. She either couldn't hear me through the commotion or had dropped to the other side. The space between the back of the buildings and the wall around the village wasn't wide enough for a child to fit through, much less me. Not to mention, I couldn't be sure there weren't other obstacles in the path that would force me to turn back or drop me in the middle of trouble.

Which meant I had to go back to the square. Into the place where people were moaning and praying for deliverance. Were the soldiers striking them down, or was the darkness itself devouring the people the way it had the light?

"Gods, help me," I said, wishing for Astreia's starlight magic as I crept away from the wall.

The closer I came to the town square, the darker things became. There was no gradual adjusting of my eyesight, no outlines of figures moving around me. If I raised my eyes, the moon and stars shone like bright beacons in the heavens, but their light did not penetrate beyond the city walls.

A hiss of a match to my left was followed by a blossom of orange fire, illuminating the pallid, fear-filled face of a young Goblin. His eyes widened when he saw me, but as he reached out for help, a creature came up behind him. In the flickering match light, I saw a mouth filled with broken teeth. The corners curled up in an evil grin and claws snatched the boy backward, extinguishing the light. The sickening crunch of bones followed, and I fled.

This was not at all what I imagined when Tievel told the story of the Light Blight. Something warm and wet splattered against my cheek as another scream was silenced. Motionless forms littered the pathway to the exit, more than once sending me sprawling across the cobblestones or onto another body. In some places, the ground was soft and slippery beneath my shoes.

Trembling, I leaned against what I assumed was a window from the cold, smooth surface. Silence stole over the village. People were either dead or dying or learning to stay silent. It was a struggle to control my ragged breathing as every bump or rustle sent my heart into a tailspin.

Something—someone—fell not far in front of me. A clattering sound followed the dull splat of their body, and whatever they'd been holding rolled across the road and stopped at my feet. Hoping it was a weapon, even if it hadn't served them well, I squatted low and scooped it up.

It wasn't quite sturdy or long enough to be a spear, and the tip was slightly rounded. A quick sniff filled my nostrils with a sulfurous odor. A fire striker!

I only needed light long enough to get my bearings, and I wouldn't make the mistake of staying still like the others. Counting to three, I ran the match head along the ground. Brilliant, glorious light appeared, pushing away the black and revealing the town gates only a few yards away.

Two steps. I managed two steps before arms wrapped around my middle and jerked me into the air. I dropped the fire striker, groaning when the flame guttered, and went out. This was it. The monster was going to shred me apart.

"Let me go," I screamed as my feet returned to earth, and the darkness did not release me.

I braced for an attack that didn't come. Ice magic spluttered at my fingertips, the fear in my body too much for it to overcome. So, I kicked and clawed, relishing every grunt and oath I drew from the monster, even as a small voice in the back of my mind wondered why I was still alive.

"Enough, you hellcat," a familiar voice snarled at me. "Do you want to call its attention again, or perhaps I should bring you another match? That was a fucking excellent idea you had, by the way."

"Reaper?"

"Quiet. We're almost out of here."

The Reaper tucked me into his side and draped his cape around me, covering even my face. The moment the material slid over my eyes, the world came into sharp focus, and I threw my hands over my mouth. As if sensing my panic, he pressed his fingers hard into my hip and tugged me closer.

Great beasts prowled through the town. Monsters covered in wiry gray fur tipped with red. A red that matched the blood dripping off their teeth and claws. If one didn't look too closely, they might think they saw a bear, but no bear I'd ever seen had six eyes swiveling over stunted snouts covered in elvish gore.

In corners and against walls, survivors huddled, some with their arms wrapped around loved ones. A few were loners as I had been, and most had a determined acceptance etched across their features. Death would come for them before the morning. Indeed, as if one of them heard my thoughts, they drew in a deep, last breath and loosed a scream into the night that raised the hairs from my arms. A beast was upon them before I slammed my eyelids shut.

The Reaper never took his hand from me as we backed slowly toward the exit. Beyond the gates, the world slept in normal darkness. There had to be magic in the walls to keep the curse from spilling out.

"Shit."

"Why would you say that?" I demanded, pressing my face into his side as he turned us slowly. There, by our only exit, sat two monsters sniffing the air.

"Morana, I need you to do what I tell you for once."

Indignation welled in my breast, but I nodded. "Tell me what to do."

Unpinning the cloak from his shoulders, he swathed me completely in the material. It was cold against my skin.

"Don't move."

Stepping away, he faced the beasts, his body no longer hidden beneath oceans of billowing fabric, though he kept his head wrapped. A sleeveless tunic revealed muscular arms tattooed with swirling lines of silver and black, and on his back hung a double scythe. Reaching over his shoulder, he grabbed the weapon, spinning it between his fingers as he brought it to his front. The blades were always a whisper from slicing into his skin.

"You know what I am," the Reaper said, whirling the scythe over his head as he spoke.

"We do," the larger monster said, its snout ill-suited for forming words. "And we have released many souls for you. Why do you not collect them?"

"Because our Master has given me other tasks. Let me pass."

They stood and shook, flinging flesh from their fur. "You may pass, but the flesh sack will remain behind. A Reaper's cloak can do much, but it cannot hide the smell of the living."

I shivered in the cloak while the Reaper merely shrugged. One leg jutted out as he swung the scythe in a wide arc, slicing through the smaller beast's throat as if it were a heated knife cutting butter. I gagged and pinched my nose as the stench of burning flesh fouled the air.

The other monster roared and lunged at the Reaper, its great paw catching him across the chest as he spun out of its reach. The tunic ripped in three places, and blood welled up on his chest like drops of rubies. It might as well have been a slight scratch for all the attention the Reaper paid it.

Dropping to one knee, he swiped low, catching his foe on the front legs. It toppled forward; however, before it could do so much as groan, the Reaper rose and brought a blade–point down–through the skull.

"Morana, move. Don't look behind us," the Reaper commanded, thrusting out his free hand. I took it, and together we ran for safety.

The moment we stepped through the gates, I wrenched the cloak from my face and drew in sharp lungfuls of air and did exactly what I'd been told not to do. I peered through the gates to find dozens of the beasts clawing at an invisible barrier as they roared with rage. Promptly, I stumbled backward, turned, and retched in a large bush.

"Told you not to look," the Reaper muttered as he wiped his blades on the grass before putting the scythe on his back. Sighing, he pulled back my hair as another wave of sickness overtook me. "At least you waited until we got out."

"W-what were those things?" I wiped the back of my mouth and squinted at him. Away from the compressing darkness, the starlight seemed brighter than the midday sun.

The Reaper continued to hold on to my hair, and there was horror in his eyes. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything."

I snatched the braid from him and peered at it. My mouth parted, a small gasp escaping in a silver puff. There among the black were five strands of stark white.

"I didn't mean to. It wasn't on purpose," I sobbed.

"Hey, hey," the Reaper said softly, touching my chin. "Breathe. It's okay."

"It'll never be okay. I'm a monster."

"You're not." His thumb moved in soft circles against my face. "You're headed home. I'm certain we can find someone there to help you. Someone who can teach you how to control it."

"I want to learn how to stop it."

His fingers ceased moving. "If that is what you wish, but before that, I need your help. It's about the prince–"

Tievel. I jerked away from the Reaper. I had to get to him, but before I could tell the Reaper I had to go, I noticed he continued to bleed from the wounds on his chest. Taking the edges of a tear in his clothes, I widened it to get a better look and pretended not to hear the sudden indrawn breath the Reaper took.

"These are deep. You should have someone sew them up."

"I rather thought you might take care of them."

He grabbed my face again. I studied the intricate tattoos twining around his golden arms instead of meeting his gaze.

"Sorry. Not much skill with a needle and thread."

"I'll mark that down as a skill that needs improvement. Along with doing as you're told. Excellent marks for doing everything the hard way, though. Bravo."

"Excuse me?" I shouted, marching across the road, desperate to put more distance between us and Friedesh. And to locate Astreia, who was no doubt frantic by this time.

"If you had only listened to me before when I tried to tell you why I was in Edresh, none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have ended up in that prison with that collar around your neck–" A shiver went down my spine at the way his words turned guttural with rage. "And you certainly wouldn't have ended up nearly devoured by monsters in the dark all to save a worthless prince."

"What do you have against him? He didn't start the war against your people."

"Our people, Morana. It's not what I have against him...It's what he represents. The High Elves were never supposed to be immortal. No one is. The Blessing given to them disrupted the balance. Araphelians recognized this and became servants of Death and Fate. We intercede when they go too far." He darted in front of me, the tattoos on his arms catching the moonlight. "The King knew this, and he went after us to remove every threat to his immortality. Over the last ten years, we've sent Reaper after Reaper to assassinate the king, and when it was my turn, I was prepared to die like the rest of them."

"But you succeeded."

"Because he let me wound him." He flexed his fingers. "And now I find there is a banshee working for him. The very creature he swore to exterminate eats and breathes beneath his roof. For what purpose?"

"None of this explains why you want to kill Tievel," I huffed, pushing around him and marching into the woods.

"I don't want you to kill him. I want you to Sing and remove his Blessing. It will help restore the balance."

"But if I do that, you'll try to kill him, won't you?" He wouldn't look at me, and that was answer enough. "Why?"

"Because," he growled loud enough to make me jump. "I very much doubt he's taking you into Araphel to fix the wrongs of his grandsire. Whatever he has said about the portals is a lie. There's something else he wants, and it won't be good for anyone. Look at what is already happening. Look at Friedesh."

I scoffed and kicked a rock at him. "That, you ass, was nothing more than a coincidence. That curse clearly was only lying dormant, and we have terrible timing."

I didn't believe a word I said, but I would be damned if I would admit it to him.

The Reaper grabbed me by the throat and used his thumb at the base of my chin to force me to look up. This time, I stared into that amber gaze in defiance. He rubbed his thumb up and down over my neck—either a caress or an assessment of the best place to push to crush my windpipe. It didn't matter which, because it sent a thrill through me that had my back arching, pressing my body into his as he leaned in closer.

"Tievel is going to finish what the king started, and you could stop it all by killing him. As it is, if that spell keeping the curse inside the city doesn't hold, I don't know that there will be any saving the people this time. And next time–"

He stopped and shoved me away, obscenities falling from his lips. Massaging my throat, I pressed him to continue. "Next time what?"

The Reaper gathered his cloak around him the way he always did before vanishing. Now I wondered if he didn't truly disappear, if it only hid him from the world.

"Just know that I'm only sticking around now to make sure you make it to Araphel and the princess makes it to Estrellum. Until Vyta is relit, no new souls can come into this realm. After that, I don't give a damn about what happens to you."

Surprised by the hurt his words caused, I shouted, "I don't need you."

"Oh, yes. I'm sure your prince will be in fighting form next time you get into trouble, because we both know there will be a next time."

We were standing toe to toe. His cloak floated away from his body and swirled around me. The ring around his eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and then his head snapped back as voices drifted to us from the woods.

"Hurry, Yoko."

"Astreia," I breathed, looking over my shoulder with a grin. When I turned back to the Reaper, he was gone. Louder, this time, I said, "Astreia!"

"Morana!"

Branches snapped as the princess plowed through the woods until she threw herself into my arms. We hugged and sobbed for a long time before pulling apart and wiping tears from each other's faces.

"What happened in there?" she demanded.

"Tievel? Did you get the flame to him?" I prayed it was safe since she had it over the wall when the curse unleashed.

"He's fine. As soon as I saw what was happening, I rushed back to Yoko with the flame. He's weak, but it cured him. But Morana..."

"What?"

Yoko and Astreia shared a look. The princess finally said, "It looked like the Light of the World went out."

"I'll tell you everything." Almost everything. "But first, I want to see Tievel with my own eyes."

Yoko pushed her short hair back with a grubby hand. "This was a waste of a trip. I told you we should have waited for her to come back to us."

"Enough, Yoko," Astreia said, throwing her arms around me as we headed back to our camp.

This time, I did not look back.