Page 80 of Each Their Own Devil

She wasn’t sure when Nicolas caught up to the Authorities. She only became aware when their teeth were upon them, hot breath filling the air—the only unpleasant smell in all of the Astraelis realm.

A thousand multicolored eyes glimmered with unguarded glee. Even in their rush to escape, the Authorities could notresist the chance to take down the Knowing One and his Lady of Wrath.

Her left hand trembled as she raised it, barely strong enough to channel her magic. She felt Nicolas press her closer against him.

“I’ll find you again,” he whispered.

She waited a beat, just long enough to give Taddeas time to scramble away. His voice rose in a scream, shouting her name, but it was too late. The cold had already reached her fingertips.

She unleashed again.

The world turned a beautiful ultramarine blue.

She had seenthe Third in many forms, but she wondered if this was how he saw himself. He stood so enormously tall that Aleja had to squint to look up at his blindfolded face—thin, concave, and skeletal. Atop his hood rested a golden crown, its spikes reaching impossibly high before dissolving into the surrounding darkness like needle-thin whispers of light.

When he reached for her, she wasn’t afraid. Not even the sight of his second set of arms, lifting to adjust his hood while the others settled on her shoulders, was enough to quicken her heart. Until the crushing awareness that she was alone struck her.

“Where is my husband?” she asked sharply, whirling to examine her surroundings.

She felt so light now, moving without the heavy coldness that had once filled her. But there were no rolling hills, no weepingwillow trees—only the vast ultramarine void stretching endlessly in all directions.

She pushed his bony hand off her shoulder. He leaned down in response—a process so slow, it made his towering height all the more oppressive. His skull was black and threaded with fine silver vines like marbling. Two eyes were stitched into his blindfold with brilliant golden thread.

“Where is Nicolas?” she demanded, stepping back. Her movements felt sluggish, as though she were wading through water against an unrelenting current.

“You’ll see him in time,” the Third replied. “As with the other Dark Saint you sent here. Come, let us walk. The way is long.”

“The other Dark Saint?” she whispered, her voice tinged with panic. “Who?”

Aleja glanced over her shoulder. She could run. There was no clear destination, nothing in sight but emptiness, but she could try. If she could escape the Third long enough—if she could just?—

“There is only one path left for you,” the Third said, as though reading her thoughts. “Only one road leads in and out of this place, and no matter which way you run, you’ll find yourself on that road. Come. Let’s wait for the others.”

“I’m not going,” she said, defiance rising in her throat.

“You Otherlanders are exhausting,” the Third replied with a sigh. “There comes a point when you need to give in.” His voice softened. “I’m sorry if I frightened you before. It’s not my nature, but I was upset. There is no longer anything to be afraid of.”

“Iwantto be afraid,” Aleja whispered. “I want to be angry and tired. I want to sleep and eat. I want to not know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I want to make plans that change at the last minute. I want to get bored. I want to eat eggs for breakfast and drink coffee late at night because I want to keep reading. I want to see a painting I’ve never seen before.” Hervoice broke as tears welled in her eyes, hot against the cold of this liminal world. “If I go with you, I’ll never see a new painting ever again.”

“It is the price the living all pay. Even Otherlanders, eventually.”

“But I didn’t make a bargain,” Aleja protested. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You have to pay it all the same,” the Third said simply.

When he extended his bony hand again, she hesitated. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was better to go to a place where there was no fear. No waking up scared. No worrying whether today would be the day she or her friends would die. No war.

But Nicolas was not here. Nor was Violet. Nor Italy, or Bonnie’s ridiculously fluffy pancakes, or Amicia’s playful flirting. Orla’s sharp wit wasn’t here, nor Taddeas’s steady wisdom.

“I’m sorry,” Aleja said softly. “I can’t come with you.”

She turned.

She ran.

Immediately, Aleja realized she wasn’t going anywhere. Her legs moved desperately, but she made no progress. The Third’s bony hand landed on her shoulder again.

“I’m sorry, dear one. It’s time,” he said softly.

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