Page 120 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I’m sorry for the ways I failed you.

I forgive you for the ways you failed me.

Maybe in the next life, it can be different. But if not, what I feel in this one remains the same.

I love you.

Vivi.

It was a short letter. Just a few sentences. And yet, what else was there to say but that? What else could I offer him?

Now, at the entrance to the pass, my death looming over me, I thought of that question again. It was all I had, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

I could feel Atrius staring at me. He was as nervous as I was, but his presence still comforted me. I swallowed past a thick lump in my throat, heavy with fear and guilt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

His voice was abrupt, and yet gentle.

He saw too much.

“Nothing,” I said, and started to walk forward, but he caught my arm.

“What is it?”

I paused, fighting that same sensation I’d felt when I wrote Naro’s letter earlier today—like Atrius’s question was another blank page in front of me.

I turned back to him.

“I need you to promise me something,” I said.

A ripple of concern. His brow furrowed.

“Promise me that you keep going,” I said. “Even if you lose me. Promise me that your only goal remains the Pythora King.”

Silence. His concern grew stronger.

I reversed his grip, so I was now holding his hand, pulling him closer.

“Death is what happens when you stand still,” I said. “Don’t stand still. Not for anything.”

Finally, he lowered his chin in a nod.

A wave of relief fell over me. I turned back to the pass before us.

It felt, I supposed, exactly like what a path to the underworld shouldfeel like.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

He wasn’t. I could sense that. But he still said, without a hint of uncertainty, “Yes,” because Atrius worked only in absolutes. I appreciated that about him, even though I knew it would be the very quality that would end me.

“Good,” I replied.

I was the one to take the first step, leading us into the mist.

I hated followingthe threads through rocks. They were so much more opaque than soil or water, with so little life running through them to cling to. These ones were among the worst—endless expanses of serrated death.

The gaps between them were so narrow that no more than two of us could walk shoulder-to-shoulder, and even that was tight. I led the group, the navigator pointing our way. Though the vampires had far better eyesight in the darkness than humans did, the dark wasn’t the problem here—the mist was. A human would be functionally blind here. The vampires could see what lay directly before them, but little more. Certainly not enough to work their way through the maze of stone alone.

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