Page 125 of Reaper's Quest

“Door,” I reminded without a trace of gentleness.

With a scowl, Aoes pulled the door shut, leaving me alone in the room with Winter.

I turned all my attention to the frozen man upon the bed.Taking a deep, centering breath, I pushed against the exhaustion that fought to control me.

I could do this. For Winter.

My nerves were tight and my muscles taut as I slipped the reaper’s tool into place. It fit like a glove. Looked like one, too. The last time I’d used it—the only time I’d used it—it had sliced off a piece of my own soul. I would endure that again, for him. I owed him a life debt.

Unlike last time, when I’d used the tool to extract a soul, I planned to use the tool to locate the soul. His soul. Then I would pull it back into its proper place.

I slid my gloved hand to the center of Winter’s chest, and with thought and intention, my reaper’s hand ignited, setting a purple glow upon his outer icy shell. Slowly…almost too slowly…his frigid encasement began to thaw.

I would accept nothing less than his survival. But when he did pull through, my secret would be exposed.

And that likely wouldn’t end well for me. I could look forward to losing another piece of myself for using the glove, as well as punishment, possibly imprisonment, from the Reapers’ Council.

If I ever managed to get out of this cursed citadel.

31

Snow and frost surrounded Winter for as far as his fae eyes could see. Plucked from life, he now existed alone in a vast, frozen terrain.

Voices he recognized murmured overhead, distant, distorted, and disembodied. At least, he thought he recognized the voices.

Where is everybody? Or anything?

He couldn’t remember what had landed him in this glacial wilderness. But a female had been present. A female who burned so hot his winter magic had raged in response.

Yes. That’s what happened.

He had to be in a magical, protective cocoon. That was the only thing that made sense to him. He merely needed to wake up his non-preternatural senses.

He needed to wake up.

Only…

It’s not safe to do so. Not yet.

The thought became a hammer, shattering any ideas of leaving his guarded sanctuary.

Another murmur overhead. A curse word followed by something about a door. Despite the muffled distortion, the voice felt familiar. Like he’d known the source for years. Called him a friend.

Winter gazed upward to the ice-blue sky as snowflakes began to fall.

He had withdrawn into a deep part of himself. Quite possibly, the core of his magic. His source.

Ages had passed since he’d accessed the full extent of his gift. He couldn’t recall exactly how long, but standing where he did now, he could feel the extensive energy around him.

Power thrummed with his heart and the flow of his blood—an electrical storm racing across his muscles, tendons, and veins. It had grown and intensified, gathering and storing over a great amount of time, building upon itself during the wait.

The forces hummed anxiously and itched to be utilized.

From the buzzing in the air around him, he collected a handful of the energy and tucked it deep inside of himself.

“Leave us. I’m going to get him back.”The voice came as a clear murmur from above.

Something inside of his chest stirred and tightened. The echoing female voice overhead sounded like the same voice that had talked to him after he’d first found himself in this cocooned state. She’d spoken words meant to placate him with weak reassurances and then had moved into stories. Stories about people he’d never met and a world he’d never visit.