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Destined to the Reaper (The Shadow Realms #2) Chapter 7 41%
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Chapter 7

Kali

F or the twentieth time—which felt more like a thousand—I glanced at my watch. I’d been sitting in the clearing by the circle for at least four hours now. I didn’t understand what could be holding him up so late. He hadn’t attempted to respond to the summons, not even to give it the ‘pause’ signal. As I feared leaving it active for too long a stretch to avoid alerting Cornelius, I paused its call. Once every twenty minutes or so, I would reactivate it only for a few seconds as a nudge.

Despite his annoyance with me last night that I wouldn’t give him my soul, I didn’t believe for one second Pharos would back out of this. Not this far in, and especially not with this being his one true hope of regaining his freedom. In the end, even if I keeled over while attempting to exit the crypt for not caving in to his request, it wouldn’t change the beneficial outcome for him. Pharos would be free.

Plus I still felt his essence inside me.

Although I couldn’t tap into his Reaper powers, I had noticed a significant boost to my magic abilities since the first time we mated. After last night, it had gone up another notch. As it would make no sense for Pharos to give me a part of himself and then just bounce, I could only assume something was interfering with his ability to come back to me.

I didn’t want to give in to panic and assume the worst. And yet, my mind kept wondering if Cornelius had discovered our plans and further shackled Pharos. The complete silence significantly fueled that fear. Did his little stunt of teleporting to me last night expose him? Had his presence inside the necromancer faded so much it revealed the plot?

By the fifth hour, I gave up and returned to my house, feeling defeated and extremely concerned. I made my way to bed, jumping at every sound, every sensation, imagining it was a sign from Pharos.

While I initially embarked on this crazy mission for the sake of my brother, I couldn’t deny the genuine worry constricting my heart for Pharos. Sure, he’d proven to be a fantastic lover. But it went deeper than that. I actually cared about him. There was something about being in his mere presence that lifted my spirit. While a man acting possessive towards me usually had my hackles up in a blink, I irrationally liked it coming from Pharos, even though I pushed back when he did. His almost obsessive need to own my soul, the way he described its beauty and how it affected him, and especially how his voice dropped an octave whenever he called me his bride did wondrous things to me. A part of me genuinely liked the idea of being claimed by him.

I was developing quite a crush for Pharos.

It didn’t make sense to the extent that we’d had very few conversations that hadn’t focused on our mission. I knew next to nothing about him, not even how Cornelius managed to trap him to begin with. From what brief interactions we’ve had, Pharos seemed honest and honorable. Although assertive, he never gave me the impression of being bossy. No matter how much he disliked my decisions—and clearly expressed his opinion to that effect—he ultimately respected my choices and didn’t try to bully or shame me for them.

I liked that a lot.

Can I see myself pursuing a relationship with him when this is all said and done?

That thought gave me pause. Right now, I couldn’t be certain if the way he was acting with me was a true reflection of his personality. I was his ticket to freedom. How did I know he wasn’t keeping a potential darker side in check until he got what he wanted? What would he be like in his normal everyday life? What did he even look like in the flesh?

Does he even have flesh?

Once again, I was struck by how clueless I was about him. I’d never seen a Reaper in person before. From all that I had read about them, mortals usually only saw them in their full glory at the time of death. The few exceptions were high-level sorcerers, and especially necromancers. But even then, those with arcane powers rarely could see them fully, only the hooded figure, often faceless, wielding a scythe. By most accounts, only a skeleton lurked beneath that usually black robe. Was that Pharos’s case?

Is that a problem for me?

While I considered myself more of a Bone and Blood Witch than a necromancer, The idea of fucking a skeleton held zero appeal. If he turned out to be some kind of a shade or wraith, that would already be a lot less distressing. After all, his current form could be labeled as such to a certain extent. And I couldn’t get enough of intimate moments with him that way.

The flame of shame sparked low in my gut mixed with the one of my blossoming arousal. Pharos was ruining me for any other man. He’d been fiercely passionate and blissfully voracious in each of our encounters. But that had not stopped him from being intently attentive to my pleasure. Granted, making me climax served his main purpose of making me loosen enough to be more receptive to hosting parts of him. It also provided him with the emotional and sexual energy that helped replenish his reserves of power.

However, I’d been surrounded by his soul as he made love to me. A soul could not lie. The attraction—not to say affection—he was feeling for me couldn’t be denied.

That thought, more than anything else, answered all my previous questions. I loved the feel of his soul as much as he loved mine. Regardless of what his body turned out to be—skeleton, wraith, or anything else in between—I wanted to keep exploring whatever this was between us.

If he was willing, I wanted to pursue a relationship with him and see where it took us.

But why didn’t he contact me tonight?

I heaved an aggravated sigh as the same pointless questions about what might have kept him away replayed in my head. It was already close to four in the morning. Despite the late hour, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned for hours, dozing in and out, each time awakening with a start, wondering if it was in response to a poke from Pharos… which it hadn’t been.

Morning found me a complete wreck and still no news from him. I spent the entire day beside myself, counting each minute as they stretched endlessly until nightfall. In a terrifying repeat of last evening, I waited in vain in the clearing without even the slightest hint of Pharos attempting to contact me. I returned home devastated and feeling utterly helpless.

I couldn’t do anything except wait for him to reach out to me. But what if he couldn’t? I wanted to believe the situation wasn’t as dire as my paranoia kept claiming it was. That night proved even more fitful than the previous. I woke up exhausted, stressed, and even angry. As much as I repeated to myself that Pharos wasn’t staying away of his own free will, the nasty voice at the back of my head wouldn’t stop repeating that I’d been played.

The plan had been for me to go to the crypt either today or tomorrow. Last night would have established whether I was hosting enough of him to allow for a quick transfer before Cornelius could intervene.

Even if I’d been so bold to go ahead regardless, two separate issues kept me from proceeding. First, I had no clue about his body’s specific location inside the crypt. Second, I couldn’t make the journey into the bowels of this accursed place without being certain Pharos could go through the ritual as soon as I reached my destination. If exiting would prove as dire as he claimed, it would be foolish for me to throw away that attempt without confirmation that he would be there.

In spite of my growing sense of the futility of it all, I got back to work preparing for the mission. As I had done over the past few days, I spent the next few hours further studying everything I could get my hands on regarding the crypt and its inhabitants.

When I once more failed to hear from him by mid-afternoon, I gave up on this happening today. No one in their right mind would venture into that place at night. While daytime was extremely dangerous, nighttime was essentially suicidal. My goal had been to head out first thing in the morning, a plan I had intended to discuss with him last night.

As the sun began to set on the horizon without even the slightest poke or nudge from Pharos, I weighed my options. Tomorrow would be October thirty-first: All Hallows. Pharos heavily hinted that it would be an excellent day for the ritual as the Veil between the mortal plane and the Shadow Realms would be thinner. Death Magic would be significantly enhanced over the three days of All Hallowtide, reaching its peak on November second.

Based on our prior conversations, Pharos wanted to have his ultimate confrontation with Cornelius on that last day: All Saints Day. None of this would be possible unless we proceeded with our plan in the next 24 to 48 hours.

Struck by a sudden inspiration, I decided to stir the pot by writing a note to Cornelius pretending I was open to offering him some form of payment in exchange for my brother’s liberation. As he was always on the lookout for rare artifacts or reagents, surely there was something he wanted that I might be able to acquire for him. Obviously, he would soundly reject that offer. The wretched male wanted to break and humiliate me. The more I resisted his demands, the more determined and rabid he became in his sick need to put me back in my place and teach me never to challenge my betters.

However, he wouldn’t be able to read it without Pharos also seeing it. I hoped it would be enough of a nudge to get him to let me know somehow what was going on. Worst case scenario, it would make Cornelius reveal that he was on to us so that I could take the appropriate measures to protect myself.

As I couldn’t come anywhere near Cornelius or his minions for fear they would detect Pharos’s essence inside me, I sent the note by a raven, not holding my breath regarding a quick follow up. Knowing that foul necromancer, he would delay his response out of sheer cruelty, thinking I was desperately waiting with bated breath. Except, I didn’t give a shit about hearing from him. Getting a sign—any sign—from Pharos was all I cared about.

To my shock, I received a response less than an hour later. Heart pounding, I retrieved the note bound to the leg of the raven before greedily reading it. I barely noticed their bird taking flight to return home.

My jaw dropped, and then an intense wave of relief washed over me as I read the note. Written by one of the servants, it indicated that Cornelius was out of town for a few days and would return in the morning or the day after next. As disappointed as I felt about that impromptu trip derailing our plans, the depth of happiness swelling through me at the knowledge that Pharos was safe and that circumstances beyond his control were the only reasons for his silence left me reeling.

I really cared about him.

Considering the horrible nights I’d spent over the past two days, I decided to turn in early. To my shame, now that all tension and worry about his welfare had been lifted, I caught myself fantasizing about the Reaper. How could I have gotten so addicted to him in such a short time? Sure, I’d been celibate for a while. Considering how mind-blowing sex was with him, any red-blooded woman would be craving him as much as I was. A nagging small voice at the back of my head hinted that my inability to just have casual sex without becoming emotionally involved explained my reaction to him. But at a visceral level, I knew this was different. Something special was happening between us.

No sooner did I get under the blankets than my hand found its way between my thighs. Try as I may, with my fingers rubbing my clit, and my left hand fondling my breast, I vainly tried to rekindle some of the intense sensations Pharos systematically stirred in me. While I succeeded in finding some kind of release, it so thoroughly paled in comparison to the devastating orgasms my lover gave me that I found myself feeling even more frustrated and achy than before I touched myself.

Exhausted, I let sleep claim me with the secret hope my dreams would provide me with a more satisfactory experience of naughty dalliances with my Reaper than my hand had.

And did I ever sleep!

However, none of it was of a raunchy nature. It did prominently feature Pharos. But he didn’t speak a single word. In my dream, I was startled awake by him standing at the foot of my bed. Pharos waved for me to follow. As I was sitting up in my bed, the room blurred, and I found myself standing in my nightgown outside the entrance of the crypt in the middle of the Hemdell graveyard. He pointed at the sun above us. Judging by its position, it was at its zenith. Pharos then pointed at the crypt, and a purple thread appeared to shoot out of his index finger then flowed in its direction.

Before I could question him, the Reaper started gliding towards the entrance. I lifted my foot to shadow him only for our environment to blur again. This time, we were inside the building once my surroundings stabilized.

While it had been no bigger than a large mausoleum, the crypt served as a doorway into a massive underground lair. Multiple staircases took us through nine various levels, as if in a twisted attempt to replicate those of Hell. The purple thread continued to mark the way, stretching ahead each time Pharos pointed the direction to follow. Jumping from one specific location to the next with that same blur, my companion led me through the crypt. Each time, he would silently gesture at the way to go. It would be quite the journey through a stairs maze, hidden passages among walls pockmarked with arched alcoves that undoubtedly hid foul creatures, a flooded area with dark water beneath which some massive fiendish creature lurked, and finally a large chamber with a sacrificial altar. A desiccated body, that I could only presume was his, lay atop it.

Pharos indicated a spot by the head of the altar. With his fingertip, he drew a circle as if to mark where I was to draw the portal.

And then we were back in my room. He cupped my face with both hands and leaned in to kiss me. He vanished half a beat after our lips touched.

I woke up with a start. The brightness of the room indicated it was already morning. One glance at my watch confirmed it was just a few minutes past eight. However, the vivid memory of it all convinced me that this had not been a dream, but an actual visit from Pharos to give me the instructions I lacked. Despite how undefined the facial features of his wraith-like form were, undeniable tension had oozed out of him.

Pharos was scared.

Whatever happened during that trip, I believed Cornelius had either begun to suspect foul play, or he had discovered the whole thing. Either way, we needed to act. To my relief, I felt properly rested.

After a quick analysis of my vision, I concluded that Pharos wanted me to go to the crypt today at noon. The question was whether that time should be when I reach the altar or when I started my descent inside that forsaken place. After debating it for a moment, I decided that he meant for me to begin the journey at noon. After all, he showed me the sun at its zenith right before entering the crypt.

I silenced the negative voice at the back of my head trying to crush me with wave upon wave of doubt. When it came to taking a stance on serious matters, I became the queen of second guessing. I had committed to a course of action and would see it through. If I allowed myself to dwell on it, I would soon become paralyzed by uncertainty. And now was not the time for this.

If we didn’t see this through today, all would be lost. I could feel it in my bones.

I quickly dressed and chowed down a more substantial breakfast than what I normally ate. Not only would I need the energy, but I couldn’t risk growing weak and hungry halfway through a potential battle. If my suspicions were right, we would be in there for a while.

I packed everything I needed for the mission and cast a series of protective spells and wards on myself. Considering the type of abominations I was likely to encounter in the crypt, those protections wouldn’t do much. However, even the slightest help would be welcome.

My chest constricted as I placed an envelope with a note for the owner of the house I’d been renting and enough money to cover the remaining half of my lease in case I did not return. The mere fact that this was a possibility twisted my insides. As I got on my horse to head towards the crypt, my mind returned to Pharos.

He honestly believed I wouldn’t be able to make it out of there alive unless I gave him my soul. That thought constantly tormented me. I wasn’t ready to die. But I also wasn’t ready to surrender the most fundamental part of my being to anyone else, not even him. To me, it felt like another form of death, but one where I no longer even have any control over my destiny. If my time had come, I wanted to be whole when I crossed over.

I just prayed things wouldn’t become as dire as he predicted.

The forty-minute ride to the Duskwallow burial ground inside which the Hemdell crypt was located flew by much too fast. Having arrived a little over half an hour before noon, I took my sweet time attaching my horse in a safe place far enough from the graveyard. There was sufficient grass all around for it to graze if needed. I cast a spell on its lead to have it loosen on its own should my mount feel threatened, or should I not return within six hours. I fed it a couple of apples, patted it farewell, then made my way towards the burial grounds.

Tall, rusty iron fence gates stood open at the entrance. It always struck me as a little ridiculous for them to be there as no fence closed off the perimeter of the massive graveyard. According to legends, there had once been a beautiful fence surrounding the place. But conflicting, if not flat-out contradictory tales tried to explain what had happened to them.

Today, they would have been useless.

Invisible magic walls kept the foul creatures that lurked here contained within this cursed place. It wasn’t foolproof, to the extent that certain otherworldly beings were able to wander beyond its perimeter. Although also fiendish and malevolent, they fell into a different category. As I understood it, the protective wall only worked on mindless and feral creatures. Those who would never be deemed intelligent or even sentient, like wights, zombies, and nightmares.

My skin tingled from the powerful magic as soon as I passed through the open gates. The air immediately shifted, taking on the unpleasant scent of rot, mold, and decay that would greet you upon entering an abandoned house. The further in I got and the stronger the stench became. It had the putrid and festering edge of stagnant water. The entire place oozed with dark energy, but it was still mostly dormant. Not for the first time, I silently thanked the powers that be that my mission wasn’t time constrained. I didn’t even want to imagine how dreadful this place would be in the evening, had I been forced to come after nightfall.

The deceptive peacefulness of my surroundings, and the eerie silence made the beating of my own heart sound like thundering drums in my ears. My skin felt sticky and slimy, as if an evil mist filled the air. The way it clung to me felt like it was attempting to seep in and corrupt me like everything else here.

The graveyard was divided into various sections. At the entrance, hundreds of mostly damaged or destroyed tombstones marked the burial location of hundreds of people, most of them peasants, servants, and commoners. The deeper into Duskwallow you got, and the taller, fancier, and more impressive the tombstones became, reflecting the higher status of those they had been erected for. But even that didn’t spare them from being defaced or destroyed.

The beginning of the wealthy dead folks’ section was heralded by a path made of dark stones lined with a series of pillars on each side. My stomach churned as I glanced at the feminine busts sitting on top of them. They had a Grecian look to them, probably in honor of some priestess or deities to watch over the dead. But their faces held none of the grace and beauty they initially possessed. They had the faces of pure evil. As I walked past them, their dead eyes followed me, and their plump and sensuous lips parted in an unnaturally wide smile filled with needle teeth.

Despite the wickedness emanating from them, I didn’t hear any calls for an attack and didn’t perceive any attempts to do so from them. It was as if they were just gleefully anticipating this shit show that was about to take place. A shudder coursed through me, and I cast down my burning desire to tuck my tail between my legs and run out of here.

As respectably powerful as my arcane abilities were, it was becoming painfully obvious that I might be biting off way more than I could chew.

A swift glance around me revealed the presence of random bones and partial skeletal remains scattered here and there. Some protruded from the ground at various angles. I couldn’t say if whatever it belonged to had tried to emerge from the ground or had been stabbed into it. Either way, I expanded my bone magic survey abilities to perform a surface scan of them.

As suspected, most of them had little to no magic or life force remaining. Others had already sucked them dry or mostly used them up. While I would not be able to draw any magic from them if needed, I would still be able to manipulate them to turn them into constructs or bone Knights. They would be quite weak, but they made for a useful distraction, not to mention that there was strength in numbers. If a single one could be easily dispatched, sent as a swarm, they could overwhelm an enemy.

Comforted by that thought, I closed the distance with a building in the center of the ‘fanciest’ section of the graveyard. It had previously been an elegant and exquisitely adorned mausoleum. The once pale beige stones, decorated with sculpted figures and bas-relief carvings, looked almost burnt from the dark patches covering them. It was too dark and too slick to be dirt accumulated over the centuries. It reminded me of black blood. No vines or other wild growths could be found anywhere on or near it. Even the most parasitic forms of life knew to steer clear of this wretched place. No light reflected on its surface either.

I glanced at the sky to find the sun right overhead as I stood at the exact spot I had been in the dream-vision Pharos walked me through last night. A look at my watch indicated it was still a few minutes to noon.

For a brief instant, I considered waiting for both needles to be exactly on twelve before deciding to move forward. If Pharos had wanted me to enter specifically at noon on the dot, I believed he would have made sure to spell it out for me. Every second spent here increased the chance that I would face unpleasant company. I wouldn’t dally any longer than necessary.

As soon as I reached for the handle of one of the two heavy metal doors, they silently parted open before me. The stench of evil slapped me like a physical entity. I fought back a gag reflex. It wasn’t that the smell was so horrid. In fact, it was quite mild in comparison to some of the things I had been exposed to during my necromancer training. The first things that came to mind were a mix of rot, sulfur, and over ripe fruits. But it was the intense malice weaved into it that made my stomach churn. It was so intense I could almost taste it.

Steeling myself, I stepped inside to head towards the staircase. The moment I entered, something tugged at my chest, as if attempting to pull me forward. It took me aback at first, and then I realized that it felt like a slight psychic nudge from Pharos.

It was too different from the rare occasions he had done this before to be emanating from him. But I suspected it might be his body inside feeling part of his soul nearby and clamoring for it. As freaked out as I felt about venturing into the belly of the beast, the apparent confirmation that his body lay somewhere inside gave me a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

The first staircase felt suffocating with its low ceiling and narrow walls that made it impossible to see what awaited me on the landing below. That no torches or other sources of light illuminated it made the confined space even more claustrophobic. I considered casting a light spell but decided against it. It wasn’t a long way to go before reaching the bottom, which clearly was properly lit.

My jaw dropped as I got off the last step. The room I entered proved to be even more massive than my memory from the vision. It was vaguely rectangular, with five landings located at different heights in the space and connected by a variety of staircases leading to other levels and semi-hidden passages. At a glance, the lowest landing was located at least twenty meters below my current position.

All around me, alcoves covered the walls, some big enough to act like a doorway, others the perfect size to fit one of the many caskets on display, and smaller ones serving as deep shelves on which a plethora of bones and skulls had been haphazardly piled on. However, what initially resembled thick, blood-covered cobwebs covered far too many of those alcoves. But on further inspection, they seemed to be fleshy membranes woven into spider-like webs.

As I walked past a row of caskets, I realized that quite a few lay open. Those that weren’t empty displayed obvious signs of having been desecrated in one outrageous form or another. I averted my eyes, not allowing my fertile imagination to recreate the horrors that had taken place here.

The eerie silence of the place was only disturbed by the echoing sound of my footsteps going down the second set of stairs, the crunch of dirt and small pebbles beneath my boots, and the occasional odd sound impossible to define. And I wouldn’t even speak of the creepy sighs that could simply be the result of the wind passing through random openings.

Following the path Pharos had indicated in the vision, I walked across the second landing to find the secret passage hidden by an optical illusion of the stone walls. This one, too, proved insanely claustrophobic. Barely two meters wide, it stretched over at least ten times that distance. On each side, carved directly into the walls, four stacked recessed shelves overflowed with human skulls. Judging by the extreme sizes, a few clearly belonged to young children.

Only three torches at about a six-meter interval each illuminated the enclosed space. The purple flames of the magical fire projected dancing shadows that freaked me out even more, creating the illusion that the skulls were moving.

I almost heaved a sigh of relief once I finally reached the other side. It turned out to be another large open area similar to the first one I entered previously. However, this one had the massive pool of water at the bottom from last night’s dream. Since I could see the top of a few alcoves now underwater, I could only assume this pool had not been intended but resulted after some kind of flood. The pool had the green tinge of unclean water filled with algae. Despite the thick, chalky film that hid what lurked below, the water stirred, hinting at the presence of something swimming in its noxious depths.

It was the first living being I’d perceived so far.

Using my Blood Magic, I stretched my senses to assess it. The wretched thing was massive. It overflowed with arcane power, the type likely to overwhelm me in a confrontation. I quickly withdrew when a slithering sensation creeped over my psychic mind. The creature was aware of my presence and was assessing me as well.

Intent on avoiding it, I walked closer to the walls, while still maintaining a safe distance. I didn’t doubt something might jump at me from behind the fleshy membranes that covered them.

However, my feeling of unease cranked up another notch as I felt for the first time evil closing in from behind. A dark entity was stalking me. I didn’t feel the threat of an imminent attack. It was biding its time, waiting for the strategic moment to strike, likely once I was trapped in an area that would make it difficult for me to escape.

A spark at the edge of my vision startled me. I barely held back a yelp and pressed my palm to my chest at the sight of a weak purple glow ahead. For a split second, I feared it was some kind of shade or nightmare taking form before me. I altered my vision to help me better see ethereal or ectoplasmic presences. To my shock, it turned out to be the purple thread from my dream. It appeared to be shooting out from my chest all the way along the path leading to the room where Pharos would be lying.

The sense of the evil presence closing in spurred me on. I hastened my steps although not as much as I would have liked. If the thing stalking me had strong predatory instincts, running or loudly broadcasting my fear might trigger it to go on the attack. If I had to battle before summoning Pharos, I didn’t want it to be in such an open space with far too many potential enemies to join the fray.

Thankfully, I didn’t have another narrow passage with bone shelves to cross. I didn’t doubt my stalker would have lunged at me had he been tailing me previously. After what felt like an eternity, three more staircases, two additional landings, and one large open corridor, I finally reached two massive doors that I did not recall seeing in my dream. If not for the purple thread now shining brightly before me and vanishing behind the doors, not to mention the extremely strong pull that tugged at my chest to move forward, I might have wondered if I had made a wrong turn.

Another glance over my shoulder didn’t reveal any presence. All I could see were countless skeletal remains and bones scattered around the edges of the large room. It was empty of any furniture. But tall arches on each of the walls were adorned by tinted glass windows, each one depicting some horrible human sacrifice performed by monsters and demonic creatures.

Although they were shaped like windows and even seemed illuminated from behind like from daylight, they couldn’t be real windows. We were far too deep underground for this.

Dismissing them from my mind, I closed the distance with the massive doors. To my relief, they too opened with a will of their own. I had dreaded they would require some sort of complex puzzle solving or ritual to be granted access.

But all such musings also flew right out of my mind as I took in the spectacle before me. The large circular room was indeed the sacrificial chamber Pharos had shown me. A small bridge led to a central island in the middle of which his body rested atop a rectangular altar. All around the island a thick pool of blood almost appeared to simmer as the occasional large bubble of air popped at its surface. Inside it, I spotted several fleshy chunks of gore and bones.

On the other side of the pool, another large platform lined the left and right walls. Like in the stairs maze, they were pockmarked with more alcoves over three levels, All of them covered in those fleshy web membranes.

But it was the terrifying statue on the back wall staring down at Pharos’s inert form that claimed all my attention. I immediately recognized her for what she was: a Keres. Those demonic creatures—usually females—were the spirits of violent death and doom. While they couldn’t kill anyone themselves, they got creative in inciting others or facilitating them to perform the deed so that they could feed on the dead and dying. They had a particular predilection for blood, which explained the pool at her feet.

She looked partially embedded into the roughly carved rock wall at the back. Her hands were extended forward, her sharp claws pointing upwards as if in a summoning gesture. Her head, slightly bowed, hid nothing of her terrifying face, humanoid in structure, but framed by two dozen snake-like hair. But it wasn’t Medusa’s mane. Instead of snakeheads, humanoid skulls with bulging eyes tipped the snake-like tendrils of her hair. She looked emaciated, the tanned and almost mummified texture of her skin stretching tightly over her bones.

Despite her petrified appearance, the reddish beige hue of her complexion made it clear she wasn’t a nightmarish sculpture adorning the place. She might appear dormant, but my gut told me the Keres was keenly aware of my presence in her chamber. Once again, I quieted down my urge to hightail it from here. The knowledge that she could not personally attack me went a long way into helping me keep my cool. Even in her apparent stasis, the power radiating from her had me nearly petrified.

Clamping down on my curiosity to get a closer look at Pharos, I circled around the island to place a few wards by the outer edges of the pool and near the alcoves on the walls. Beyond the fleshy webs, I detected lifeforms hiding behind them. They felt undead to me. However, I could also feel that they possessed flesh and blood. For this reason, I set down a series of blood darts aiming at the alcoves. If whatever lurked within came out, I could shoot them with the darts. Once it started coursing through them, I could use my Blood Magic on them to bend them to my will.

As I walked in front of the entrance doors to circle back to the other side of the room, I sensed my stalker nearby. It had stopped its approach. My gut said it feared entering this room far more than it ached to harm me. As I placed more wards and blood darts on the right side, I kept stealing furtive glances at the Keres. Although she had not moved, I knew with unshakable certainty that she was intently observing me.

And she was mad.

My task completed at last, I crossed the short bridge onto the circular island. This time, I feasted my eyes over his body. Although also desiccated, his mummified appearance was nowhere near as gruesomely sunken in as the demonic female on the wall. To my shock, I noticed wing bones on each side of his body.

Could he be an Angel of Death and not a Reaper?

I knew there was a distinction between them, with one having more restrictions than the other. If memory served, the Angels reaped the souls of the righteous, while the reapers indiscriminately took both good and bad people to the afterlife on top of acting as executioners whenever they so wished.

There would be time to dwell on that further once we were both safely out of here.

Despite his disturbing appearance, I felt no repulsion or disgust. Granted, as a necromancer, I was used to skeletons, decay, and rot. But this felt different. Obviously, I wasn’t attracted by his mummified appearance, but I found myself eager and curious to see what he would look like once his regeneration kicked in. At least, I was relieved to notice skin over most of his body including most of his face, and especially his mouth. It would have bothered me had he possessed a fully skeletal face.

Yeah, I had a thing for kissing.

Still, judging by the way his skin receded around parts of his rib cage and around his eyes, I suspected that in his normal form, Pharos naturally had some exposed bones. I couldn’t see anything below his waist as he was wearing some ornate boots, pants, a skirt, a hood, and pauldrons on his shoulders.

But as much as I wanted to continue studying him, the clock was ticking. However, something felt off. An insane amount of Death Magic was swirling around his unconscious form. It took me a moment to realize what was distressing me about it. It was flowing from Pharos, into the statue.

By the Gods, she’s leeching him!

Was that how Cornelius managed to enslave Pharos? Did he make a deal with the Keres so that he would get his soul, and she would get his body? With his formidable regeneration powers, he would effectively be an endless source of fuel for her to feed on. From the beginning, I struggled to figure out how a mere mortal could have ensnared a demigod. This could explain it.

As I couldn’t see any rune, glyph, or other magic conduit allowing the transfer, I took a closer look at his body, and only then did I notice some claw-like bone spikes embedded into his skin.

Crestfallen, I stared at the claws, uncertain what to do. Should I remove them first before summoning Pharos? How long will that even take? Will it trigger the demon? But if I summon him first, will that leeching negatively affect him? Will it delay the transfer so long that Cornelius will realize something bad was happening?

Too many questions without answers exponentially exacerbated my anxiety. The Keres’ ominous presence and the anger I steadily sense growing inside her made it even harder for me to think.

“Fuck it!” I muttered in annoyance under my breath.

Having made my decision, I stood at the position Pharos showed me in the vision at the head of the altar and began drawing the summoning circle. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest when the demon turned her head to look at me with a malevolent expression as she bared her dagger teeth. Heart pounding, I reminded myself that she couldn’t attack anyone. Forcing myself to focus, I hastily completed my task, praying that my wards would hold, and above all that Pharos would answer the call.

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