He was quiet for a bit. “You know what he did to himself? And why?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “He had hiskardiaremoved because he didn’t want love to become a weakness or to be weaponized.”
“You’d think it’s because Ash doesn’t want to become his father,” he said after a moment. “Eythos changed after he lost Mycella. He was still good, but he lost most of his joy when Mycella died. If it hadn’t been for Ash, I think he would’ve wasted away until he slipped into stasis.”
I wondered if that was the same for Nektas. If it weren’t for Jadis, would he too waste away?
“Ash grew up seeing that loss and sadness every time he looked in his father’s eyes. He felt that himself, never knowing his mother’s touch or hearing her voice,” Nektas said. “But Ash doesn’t fear becoming his father. He fears becoming his uncle.”
I jerked. “He could never become Kolis.”
“I don’t think so, either, but even I never expected Kolis togo to such extremes.” There was a pause. “He was never like Eythos. A bit more reserved. Colder. Preferred solitude. Part of that was because of what Primal essence coursed through his veins. HeisDeath, and Death does not want for company. And as Ash grows older, I see a bit of that in him already,” he said, and my heart seized. “Life and death are not very different. Both are natural, a necessary cycle, for there cannot be life without death, but where Eythos was celebrated and welcomed, Kolis was feared and dreaded. That would foster jealousy in the best of us, and he was jealous of his brother. Still is, even now.”
Nektas laughed without mirth, shaking his head. “But it wasn’t until Kolis experienced love and loss that he changed. That he began to become what he is today. Love can breathe life and inspiration into one, and the loss of it can rot and taint the mind of another. That is what Ash fears most.” His gaze found mine again. “Loving someone. Losing them. Then becoming something even worse than Kolis.”
I swallowed, finding those reasons even sadder. “But we’re talking about caring for another. Not loving. Those are two different things. And I know it’s impossible for him to feel such a thing.”
“Are they that different?” Nektas questioned. “Because we’re talking about the kind of caring that allows you to put yourself in harm’s way for the one you care for. That doesn’t stop you from feeling, even if you believe those emotions won’t be returned. Even if you know the risks. Yet, you can still find peace.”
“Hecannotlove me.”
“I’m not talking about him.”
I jerked again. “I-I don’t love him,” I denied, but the words rang a little hollow. “I don’t even know what that feels like.”
“Then how do you know?”
I snapped my mouth shut. A strange, heady mix of emotions swept through me, and I felt like I was falling and flying at the same time. “I can’t think about this.”
“Why? Because you fear that you love him, and he can’t feel the same?”
“No. It’s not even that. I don’t want to think about it because it terrifies me,” I admitted without shame.
“As it should.”
I cut him a sharp look. “That’s reassuring.”
Nektas laughed, and I kind of wanted to hit him as I looked away. I didn’t want to even think about the idea of love. It was easier to acknowledge that I cared for Nyktos. Cared deeply. But that wasn’t love. And this was a conversation I didn’t want to continue.
I glanced over the hills and the pendulous branches full of flowers dancing just inches from the ground. “Does the entirety of the Vale look like this?”
“Some common areas resemble this,” he answered. “But for the most part, the Vale is ever-changing, accommodating a soul’s ideal paradise and becoming whatever they desire.”
“Wow,” I murmured.
“All aspects of a soul’s needs and wants are met in the Vale, even what they see. Arcadia is much the same.” He shifted on his saddle. “Look to your right and up, toward the skies. Do you see it?”
I followed his instructions, squinting until I saw shimmering mist gathering along the hills. “The mist?”
“It’s called the Shroud,” he said. “It’s made of Primal mist and hides the Vale from those who do not enter through more traditional means.”
As in, by dying.
The farther we traveled along the diamond road, the more I began to notice the mist gathering, clumping together to obscure all that lay beyond. Just like on the way to the Pillars, the Shroud steadily crept closer to the road, and in the silence, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would enter the Vale upon my death if Nyktos’s plan didn’t work. Or would I find eternal peace in Arcadia if his plan did succeed? Did the Primal embers truly make up for the not-so-mortal morality? Or would it simply come down to Nyktos intervening upon my death and ensuring I found peace instead of punishment?
I shivered at what now felt like morbid thoughts, which was odd. I’d thought of death a lot in the past, having accepted that it was an inevitable outcome, sooner rather than later. But now, thinking about death even felt different. A too-soon end that I no longer accepted because there was hope. A possible future that offered a—
A soft hum drew me from my thoughts. My brow pinching,I looked to my right. The sound wasn’t a hum. It was a voice.Voices. Singing. My grip on Gala’s reins loosened and then firmed as I strained to hear the words. They were in a different language, one that felt ancient, and the embers buzzed in response to it. But the sound—the voices and the melody… They were a prayer. A celebration. Haunting as the voices rose and fell, beckoning. Tears filled my eyes. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.