Chapter 14 I wake with a strangled gasp. My body feels stiff. I didn't think being dead would bring so much discomfort. It feels as though I've fallen through the floor of my study and slammed into the world below. Is this what it feels like to be shoved from the proverbial tightrope by Death? I stare up at the gray sky while I gulp down several shallow breaths. Thick fog whispers over me, tracing my figure like a pet playing with its food. I can sense a sort of hunger from the shifting dampness. This only compels my once-still heart to beat wildly. The ground beneath me is cracked and dry, crumbling against my palms as I push myself into a sitting position. Sound is muffled within my ears. Blearily, I look down at the pale earth, tracing the web of cracks crawling in every direction. One is several inches wide and displaying a gaping nothingness below. I should know better. My eager curiosity was one of things Father hated most about me. And that, perhaps, is the reason I now indulge it. My hand stretches toward that split in this strange world. What is it that lies below the Mors? Another realm to be ruled by a stoic deity? Or maybe- The earth rumbles beneath me. I shove myself away when that crack in the ashen soil stretches and gapes. A guttural growl cuts through the pressure in my ears, reverberating from the ground that caves in beside me. The impossibility of it all stuns me for a second too long. I'm slipping, sliding toward the ravenous earth that wishes to swallow me whole. A strained shout is coaxed from my throat when I stare into the nothingness reaching for me. My fingers claw at the crumbling ground, desperately trying to pull myself from the growing grave at my feet. It seems the Mors feels cheated by my almost-death. Wrenching myself free from the splitting soil, I struggle to my feet. My heart pounds in time to each of my strides. I sprint through the fog, throwing a glance over my shoulder. The ground is caving in behind me. Destruction is a step too slow, nipping at my heels. I yell-for Death, some kinder deity-I'm not sure. But the earth is hungry for my soul and if it sinks its teeth into me, I may never return to the living. My lungs burn. The ground is cracking beneath my feet, splintering with each step- I collide with something dense, hidden behind a wall of fog. Something hits the ground with a thud at the same moment I do. My body aches, but panic has me scrambling backward on palms sinking into slimy moss. I stare wildly at the ground, waiting for it to devour me whole. But it remains perfectly solid. I shake my head at the blanket of fog nestling against this strange earth. I don't understand. It was all just crumbling. Chasing me. "H-hello?" The hesitant voice drifts from the chalky air beside me. I look up to find a small woman squinting through the fog. Her hair is a tangled mess of gray, some of it torn from her scalp in clumps. The ragged clothes clinging to her are worn enough to display most of her wrinkled skin. I clear my throat, unsure. "Down here." The woman's eyes snap to mine, far clearer than I figured they would be. The sight of me has a wild grin spreading across her face. It grows into an eerie display of blackened gums and missing teeth. "You can hear me?" she whispers in awe. I stand to my feet swiftly. The look on her face displays a hunger that could rival the ravenous ground beneath. "Yes?" The woman cackles, and I take a step back at the crazed sound. "I see you!" She practically sings out the words in a chilling tune. I begin pacing backward when she reaches gnarled hands toward me, grasping at the air where I was. "You are my way out! Tell me how to get out!" "No, you don't understand-" "Get me out!" she screeches. Each demand is more earsplitting than the last. "Get me out! Get me out! Get me out!" I turn, poised to outrun this bewildering disaster too. But what I find behind that curtain of fog has my feet fumbling. Hundreds-thousands-of bodies fill the Mors. As far as the eye can see, souls mill aimlessly in every direction. Their mouths move, but only a haunting silence meets my ears. Some are haggard, others lost, most hysterical. They pass through one another like ghosts, never seeing or hearing those suffering with them. This is eternal loneliness. All the breath flees from my lungs. So this is the afterlife I have to look forward to. Bony fingers wrap around my bicep, startling me. The deranged woman is clawing at my skin with brittle nails. "Help me! Take me with you!" I tear out of her weak hold and run toward the throng of bodies. I can't help her. I can't. But that doesn't stop the frail woman from persistently chasing what she believes to be her salvation. It shouldn't be too difficult to lose the old woman, though, only one of us has to worry about dodging meandering souls. I realize now that Mara's instructions were a veiled warning. Be careful who you touch. With that in mind, I weave through the bodies, elbows tucked firmly at my sides. Before me is a mass of wandering souls. Behind me is a crowing woman who is surprisingly agile for her age. This close to the dead, I can see now that most move with a purpose. Dozens are knee-deep in a murky swamp ahead, digging in the muck as though some treasure lies within. Others are searching under every stone or scaling spindly trees. Is it boredom or belief in something that has them scouring the Mors? I turn toward a cluster of gaunt trees, picking up the pace when a shrieking plea echoes behind. Each labored breath only reminds me how out of shape Kai let me get while he was hunting down my betrothed. Kai. That is who I do all this for. Before we begin building our great legacy together, we need to ensure that no secrets can steal it away from us. My boots sink into thick, black mud as I scan the faces surrounding me. Despite never meeting my mother, I can picture her clearly. Perhaps she has visited my dreams, conjured up from the few portraits Father occasionally let me see. So I search for her blond hair, hope to catch her blue gaze in the crowd. I happily lean against the first gnarled tree I meet. It feels as though I have been running for hours, futilely searching for Iris Azer. Moss tickles the back of my neck, drooping from a twisted branch above. Still, I rest my head against the knotted trunk, discouraged. Mara is going to pull me out of here any second, and I haven't even found- A figure suddenly steps beside me. I'm forced to stumble back before our arms brush, leaving me with yet another pleading soul to escape. I look up slowly. And a very hardened, spiteful, dead version of myself stares back. This is not the Azer I was hoping to find. Father looks up at the tree, clueless of my presence. Dark circles smudge the skin beneath his eyes. The blond hair we share is now thinning atop his head, or maybe I've just never seen him without a crown to cover it up. His gaze is distant as it roams over the branches. He looks like a man who lost the only thing keeping him sane-power. Again, I know I shouldn't. But this time, it is not my insufferable curiosity that sways me. I stretch a hand toward Father's shoulder. I want him to need me. For once. His green eyes slide to mine the moment my fingers fall from that bloody shirt he died in. "Kitt?" My voice is stubbornly even. "Hello, Father." He looks me over with that steely gaze, sharp enough to cut. Just like he has my entire life, Father searches for flaws to exploit. "You're dead? Already?" He shakes his head. "I always knew you were too weak to rule." For once, I refuse to flee from his ire. "No, Father, I'm not dead. Just visiting." His scoff is a familiar sound. "Visiting? What the hell are you talking about?" "Death-the woman who dragged you here-let me stop by to speak with my mother," I inform. And just like that, his entire demeanor shifts. I have just become useful to him. "Iris," he murmurs. "Yes, help me find Iris." His gaze grows wild; he plants shaking palms on the tree's trunk. "Here. She has to be in here. Her voice... it's coming from the tree." I can't help but gape at him. Father's mind was always sharp, cruel-nothing like the unraveling mess before me. But it seems that Death changes a person. "Help me get your mother out," Father orders, sounding like his old self despite the sudden hysteria. "Then we can all go home. You will take us home." My gaze is icy. Aiming such a pointed glare at the man I once lived to please feels equally wrong and cathartic. "Tell me you need my help." Father doesn't bother looking at me. "I need your help, Kitt. Now get us out of here." Despite the flippancy with which he says the words, I figured it would mean more hearing them from him. But the infatuation is gone, leaving only a man before me. A mediocre one at that. I can't help but smile. "I'm not taking you home." Father scowls at me. It's a look he only ever gave Kai. "You will do as I say, boy." "No, I won't." I take a slow step toward him. "I worked so hard to impress you, earn your praise, because I thought you were doing something great. Something worth all the pain you put your sons through." My voice wavers with emotion. "But you were too obsessive to do anything great." Father barks out a laugh. "Look in a mirror, Son. Your own obsession is what brought you here," he taunts. "You wanted to see me." "No-" "Even now, you are consumed by trying to be better than me." He stands a breath away now, like some cruel reflection of what I could become. "But you will fail. Your weakness will be your undoing." "I will be stronger than you ever were!" I roar with a shove to his chest. "My legacy will bury yours in the history books. I will become the greatness you never were." "You will remain exactly as you always have," Father spits. "A disappointment." My fist is suddenly clenched around the collar of his soiled tunic while the other pulls back to strike. Father seems to find his unfortunate position funny. "Go on, Son," he goads. "Hit me. I dare you to actually do something that takes an inkling of strength." My throat bobs. I hesitate. Another condescending laugh. "A damn Ordinary killed me, and you can't even throw a punch!" Still, my fist does not meet his face. I want to see the look in his eyes when I murmur, "You can rot here knowing that I will never continue your mediocre plan for Ilya." I pause, letting the words sink in. "No, I am going to rule over every kingdom. And they will worship me like a god for the powers I give them." I watch with a smile as all the color drains from his face. "Th-the Plague," Father stutters. "You wouldn't-" "I am." Every word is sharp. "Your pride made you weak. There is no need to covet our power when I can rule over every kingdom it touches. So it is you, Father, who will be a disappointment in the shadow of my great legacy." I let my fist fly toward his face. And then- Dark. My heart flutters back to life. And I wake on the floor of my study with a choking gasp. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...