Page 54 of Flame and Sparrow

Lights shone in its many narrow windows, as though the dwelling and its inhabitants had been there all along, simply going about their business.

“It feels like the shadows were expecting us, doesn’t it?” I said to Moth, trying to keep my voice light for his sake.

He let out another soft whine.

I walked forward before I could lose my nerve, pushing the gate open with one hand while still tightly clutching my blue-fire torch in the other.

The gate creaked shut on its own behind me.

Moth leapt from my shoulder at the sound of it clicking into place, swatting anxiously at the floating bits of shadow and sparks of different colored magic in the air.

“Relax,” I mumbled, calmly reaching for the griffin despite my own rising panic. “We just need to—”

A loud wind howled past us. The not-shadows lifted to life once more, weaving in and out of my legs. One of the dark ropes struck out and wrapped around Moth’s middle, squeezing out a pitifulsqueakbefore rendering him silent, suspended, and still in mid-air.

I reached for him again—

Cold fingers hooked around my neck and jerked me to a stop.

An even colder voice whispered against my neck a moment later: “A mortal soul prowling around my territory? This is unexpected.”

The pressure against my throat loosened slightly, allowing me enough control to jerk free and spin around.

At first, all I could do was stare.

The voice had sounded like a man’s, but such a label seemed inadequate for the being standing before me. He was vaguely human in shape, but the angles of him were too sharp, his skin too pale, and horned appendages curled away from the spots where his ears should have been. His arms hung well past his hips, ending not in hands, but merely in shadowy fingers long and curling like the roots of a tree.

Despite his odd angles and too-long parts, the same terrifying elegance surrounding the other middle-gods I’d met also surrounded him. He might have been beautiful to look at, even…if not for his eyes, which were pits of black with tiny slashes of white in their middles. Pure black would have been less unsettling, I thought; staring into his gaze now, I couldn’t help but think of a last, desperate hope being swallowed up by utter despair.

“You’re…” I fought to keep my words steady. “You’re the middle-god of Death.”

“That is one of my names.” His voice remained just above a whisper. When he spoke, a faint, shimmering darkness puffed from his mouth like breath steaming in cold morning air.

All of the Marr had been human once, but it was easy to forget this fact while staring at him. It was hard not to forgeteverythingI knew as I looked into those cavernous eyes. Why had I even come here?

What had I planned to say?

He inclined his head. The not-shadows rose up and began to weave once more, forming a net against my back, pulling me toward the god.

“A mark of the Flame,” he murmured, taking my hand and twisting it so that flame-shaped brand on my arm was visible. His touch made the typically dormant mark itch and flash brightly before his gaze moved to the torch I clutched. “…A weapon of Ice.” Wispy fingers reached from my wrist toward the sparrow hanging from my neck. I held my breath as those unsettlingly long fingers curled around the charm. “And a token of Control.” His eyes shifted, the white sinking fully into the sea of black for a moment.

I’d been wrong—the pure darkness was worse.

He blinked slowly, bone-pale lids stark over the black, as he asked, “Are you here trying to collect a full set of the Shade Court’s souvenirs, then?”

I slowly released my breath, trying to think of a safe answer. I didn’t know much about the politics of the divine, but the Marr likely shared some allegiance to the other gods in their court, didn’t they? So this god before me would not be my enemy if I were truly planning to ascend to the Shade Court, as I’d claimed I was going to do.

Appealing to that court loyalty was worth a try, I decided.

“I was sent here by the God of Fire to acquaint myself with you,” I said, “as a preliminary to my trials of ascension, as I intend to join his court.”

Another slow blink. Another pair of white lights lost for several seconds in the sea of black. I lowered my gaze, feigning a respectful bow when truthfully I just didn’t want him to notice how unsettled I was by those eyes.

Tendrils of the not-shadows caressed my cheek and chin, lifting my face against my will. One of them snaked across my jaw and up to my ear, weaving inside as if trying to find a way into my mind. It pressed harder and—eventually—deeper. My skull itched from the sensation, and I fought the urge to rake my fingers through my hair.

The God of Death smiled, revealing teeth like jagged rocks hanging from a cave roof.

“You’re lying,” he said.

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