Magic, Amaya spat. Stops.
It was a shame. I wouldn't have minded seeing him just one more time . . .
No, Amaya screamed. Go not!
Must, I replied, the roar in my mind going stronger. It's too late.
Not! she bit back; then she was in my hand. Power exploded around us, through us, merging steel and flesh with equal ferocity. It was a storm that tore my core apart, fiber by fiber, then pieced me back together, all within a matter of heartbeats.
Then it was no longer me, but we.
Die not, she said with fierce determination. Live must.
And with that, she forced my limbs into action, and I found myself crawling, slowly, painfully, past all the bloody, broken remnants of flesh toward two standing stones I hadn't even realized existed. Only they weren't just standing stones, but ancient, cuneiform-marked ones. Another gateway.
She kept me crawling, even though every movement had more blood pouring out and the pain was so intense I could barely even breathe. Energy washed across my skin, fierce and dark, but something was wrong with my eyesight because I could no longer see the stones, let alone tell whether they were active.
Not go! Stay!
I can't—
She wasn't listening. She never did, I guess. That surge of energy grew closer and closer even as my mind seemed to drift farther and farther away. It tore through me like a summer storm, sharp and electric, breaking me apart, then sweeping me away. I have no idea where it deposited me. I was no longer capable of caring.
My world was one of darkness and peace, and I smiled. Yes, I thought, I'm ready.
And not even Amaya's howls of protest could stop me from stepping free of my soul.
Light flared all around me, light that was warm and golden and peaceful. The figure of a woman appeared, her face glowing and serene. I smiled, unsurprised that the image the reaper who'd come to escort me onward had chosen to wear was the countenance of my mother. Of everyone I knew, she was the one person I trusted utterly.