Page 99 of Jailer to the Death God

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When I die, our contract will be broken. He’ll leave Cerato behind and return to his role, and his realm.

I wish I could have saved more of my people. But I did my best.

I gave everything I had.

It’s over. Why should I struggle to breathe anymore? I need to let myself go.

It’s time to rest, with Rose and Leilani. With my family.

I lie splayed on the vines, staring up at black trees and blue sky.

Not a bad place to die, after all. Fitting that I should perish in the spot where I sacrificed so many lives to summon the god of death. These vines will drink my blood like it did theirs.

When I turn my head, I can see the lip of the Pit, the edge over which the black vines disappear, plunging into it. I can feel the gruesome, sucking pull of its power, the irresistible lure of death—so close now, mesmeric and overpowering.

Give in.

Breathing hurts too much.

Time to let it end.

No.

No.

I won’t.

I drag in another breath.

No.

I’m not done.

Another breath.

No.

This isn’t over. I will not go.

I will not go.

I do not accept this death.

I breathe it aloud into the cold air, into the crawling dread of the death-magic seeping from the Pit. “I do not accept this death.”

My heartbeat is slowing. I will it to continue, with all my might, with every bit of strength I ever gleaned from my beautiful childhood, from the friends of my youth and the family who loved me.

I am the last, and I. Will. Not. Go.

I will not accept this death.

A shadow crosses the bright sky. Huge wings, feathered and dark.

A shape plunging down toward me. But my eyelids are heavy as stone, and I cannot keep them open.

A thump of a body landing, and two pairs of feet running to me.

“She is breathing.” Arawn’s voice, stricken with pain and relief. “Heal what you can, Tilda.”

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