Sins of the Soul

Pulling together every bit of energy he possessed, he summoned a portal, the relief almost sending him to his knees when he saw the black, smoking oval appear before him.

With a snarl, he shoved Naphré toward it and let go of her wrists. Her arms windmilled, her back arched and she fell back into the portal, her eyes locked on his.

And then she was gone.

He was left with the aching wish that they’d had more time and the hope that she knew he loved her.





“YOU DID NOT LIE,” Izanami said.

Heart racing, chest heaving, Alastor turned to face her. Naphré was gone. The portal was closed. That chapter was ended and he had so many regrets. “No. This one time, I told the truth.”

He looked around as it slowly dawned on him that the Shikome was gone, the bodies gone. The only things that remained were the platters of food. He was alone with Izanami in a small room. Really, more of a cave. There was a simple table in the center draped with a white cloth. Along the legs of the table were twining vines with large green leaves and white flowers.

“Moonflowers,” Izanami said, and for some reason, Alastor thought she was smiling. “They were a gift. Come.” She gestured at the table. “Sit.”

He sat. Why not? He had all the time in the world.

His gut churned with the thought of what he’d done. “I have questions…requests…”

“Do you? What gives you the right to have requests?”

He shook his head and answered honestly, “I have no rights here. Only requests. Whether you choose to fulfill them is up to you.”

She inclined her head. “Speak them.”

“Tell me she arrived safely.”

“Neither a question nor a request. More of an order, I should say.”

No point wasting breath on argument when agreement would get him farther. “My apologies. Please tell me if she arrived safely.”

“She did.” Izanami crossed to the table and sat across from him. The gauzy cloth that draped her moved as though she were underwater, and he had the bizarre thought that this was all illusion, that none of it was real. That she was showing him exactly what she wanted him to see. Or maybe what he, on some level, expected to see. “Why did you save her? Why not save yourself?”

He stared at Izanami, trying to figure out exactly how to explain. Finally, he shrugged. “Of the two of us, she’s the more important to me.”

“You value her more highly than you value yourself, but is she more important than finding your brother’s killer?”

“Appears so.” Given that he was here for the duration, there was nothing stopping him from searching Izanami’s realm for Butcher’s darksoul. If he learned anything, he’d find a way to pass that information to his brothers. But more than that, the truth was, when it had come down to a choice, there had been no choice. He would give up anything for her. His need for revenge. Even his life.

“Now you evade, Alastor Krayl. You wish me to provide answers, yet you are stingy with your own.”

He scrubbed his palm along his unshaven jaw, the feeling of those bristles reminding him how unkempt he was.

“Ask,” he said.

“No. Rather, I will speak and you will listen. I wish to tell you a story.”

Wonderful.

“It is the story of a boy. He catches a turtle and brings it home. In the night, the turtle becomes a woman. She beckons the boy closer and asks him to come live with her by the sea. For three years, he lives with her and then, overcome by homesickness, he asks to go back to his village. She agrees, and she gives him a gift. A box. And with it, a warning not to open the box or he will no longer be able to return to her. He goes back to the village, only to find it is not his village. Time is fickle. Three centuries had passed. All he knew is dead and gone. The boy opens the box, and he immediately withers away to dust.”

Alastor rose and paced the confines of the cave, feeling trapped, feeling sick. It was his story, wrapped up with a different bow. He had gone to Sutekh’s realm. He hadn’t understood that by the time he went back, everything would be gone.

“Why do you tell me this?” he rasped.

“That boy lost his village, as you lost yours. Then he opened the box that he should not have opened, and he was lost to his love. Foolish boy.”

“Is this some sort of lesson? I lost my family because time passed so slowly in Sutekh’s realm. Now I’ve lost Naphré because I opened the box, I ate the food of the dead. I am as good as dust. Did I get the point of the lesson?” He was angry. At her. At himself. At what he’d been denied. The chance at eternity with Naphré by his side.

But that hadn’t been an option. He’d chosen to stay because the alternative was that Naphré would have no life at all, that she would be confined here, as he was now confined here.

“I made a bloody choice,” he snarled. “Either I opened the box and turned to dust, or Naphré did.”

Reaching down, Izanami lifted one of the cake-laden platters. Like the rest of her, her hands were covered by gauzy fabric. He could see nothing of her face, her skin, her hair.