"What are you suggesting?" the Reaper King asked.

Carissa glanced at the Reaper from the corner of her eye. He'd straightened, so the handle of his Scythe was closer to her mangled hand than the blade. "I'm suggesting that I join you."

The Reaper King seemed thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "No. Even if you betray him, I can't risk you turning back to him. It's better that—"

Carissa lunged to the right, stretching her hand as far as it would go. She barely managed to curl the remaining nubs of her fingers around the Scythe's handle. Pain shot through her hand, setting her blood afire.

The Reaper went completely still, giving her an opportunity to twist the Scythe slightly and let the blade slice through his head.

The Reaper King danced back a few steps. "Quickly, subdue her."

Carissa sloppily cut at the leather straps, managing to slice herself a few times in the process. But it was nothing in comparison with the pain radiating from her fingers. Just as the Reaper descended on her, she switched the Scythe to her left hand and blocked his blow.

When the Reaper drew back, she hoped that he didn't notice how violently she was trembling. Though adrenaline was sweeping through her, she could feel the ends of her fingers throbbing.

The next blow she parried nearly knocked the Scythe from her hand. If only she could grip it with two hands. She hauled the Scythe back upright, resenting the amount of effort it took. Sweat glued her clothes against her skin, and she blinked its sting from her eyes.

She had to end this quickly before she grew too weak to fight. She ducked beneath the next blow and lunged for his chest, burying the curve of the Scythe into his sternum.

The Reaper convulsed for a moment before collapsing like a limp doll. A pool of black blood blossomed around its body, gliding over the cracks and crevices of the stone. For a brief moment, she could see her own reflection in it, like staring into an obsidian mirror.

She shook her head, forcing her thoughts back to the present. The blood loss was making her disoriented. She needed to kill the Reaper King before she faded further.

Carissa straightened and strode toward the Reaper King. He was huddled in the corner. Brone was still standing by the table, awe and fear warring in his gaze. If need be, she could deal with him later—hopefully without killing him.

She raised the Scythe. The end wavered wildly, her grip slick with sweat and loosening by the second.

Yet the Reaper King seemed too terrified to notice. "W–would you still be interested in betraying Elon and joining the Reapers, perhaps? I know what I said earlier, but—"

"You made a decision to betray the King long ago, and you've continued to make that decision over and over in centuries past. This ends tonight, right now."

The Reaper King glanced up through his hood. During his mad scramble to get through the corner, the hood had fallen back slightly, revealing his red eyes and the gleam of his fanged teeth. Though his skin was pale, it clung to his bones, making him appear closer to a skeleton than human.

"If you insist on being obstinate, then I can think of only one way that I can have my revenge." He reached into the folds of his cloak.

Carissa plunged the Scythe into his chest. But even as she saw the lights flicker out in his eyes, he withdraw a narrow dagger, about the length of her hand. When he drew it back, to her surprise, he wasn't aiming for her.

He was aiming for Brone.

The Scythe was lodged into his chest; by the time she removed it and severed his arm, it would be too late. Brone would be dead. And forever separated from Elon.

But perhaps some people were despicable enough to deserve such a fate.

She thought back, to her life before Elon, before she knew what it truly meant to love and be loved by someone. She'd thought that running from Elon had made her free, yet she had quickly become a prisoner to her own desires.

She'd run from Elon.

She'd fallen in love with another man.

She'd sold her own body.

Yet he'd still come when she'd called. He'd kissed her when she was mired in filth. He'd married her when she was undesirable. He'd loved her when she was broken. And gradually, she'd learned to love him back.

Perhaps the next step in her journey was not only loving Elon but loving others as well. And love was sacrifice.

Elon had died for the traitors. And so could she.

Carissa had only time to shift her weight to the left before the dagger flew from the Reaper King's hand. The movement wasn't much. But it was enough.

It hit her side, and she fell backward. Pain flooded her chest. She took a deep breath, and the pain blossomed into agony. Her throat tightened, and she covered her mouth as she coughed. When she drew her hand back, it was flecked with blood.

She examined it for a moment. The specks of blood were like little freckles. No, scarlet flower in a field. No, stars in a sky. Little tiny dots spackled across her pale skin. Her very pale skin.

In a moment of awareness, she realized that she'd lost too much blood. Her skin was white. White like stars and freshly laundered sheets.

Carissa tried to will her thoughts back into cohesion. But no matter how tightly she closed her fist, they escaped like little butterflies flitting past her fingers. She remembered this, remembered dying before.

And this time, she wasn't scared.

She didn't fear death, only being separated from Elon. And within a few short moments, the pain would fade, her life would sputter out, and she would never have to worry about being separated from him again.

A murky shadow loomed above her. Maybe it was Brone. Or it could have been a passing cloud. The thought made her smile. At least she'd gotten to see the sky one last time.

She wanted to say something meaningful, to speak words that would be carved into the minds of whoever might be listened. But she only managed to wheeze out, "I'm ready," before her lungs denied her air. The pressure built inside her chest, inside her head. Her consciousness was dwindling, thinner than spider silk.

Elon had made the final sacrifice for her. And she was going to do the same for him.

Now, she would finally—truly—be free.

***

Author's Note: THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER.

I repeat: THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER.

I still have one more to go. No sneak peek this time. :)