The Deathsinger: Book 2

Ch. 7: The Choices We Make

Morana

"I didn't mean for it to happen," I blurted out. "It was his life or mine, and I chose mine. Me. I chose me."

The excuses tumbled from my mouth in a flood. To my own ears, they rang hollow. Convenient words to soothe the guilt tearing me apart.

"It wasn't my fault," I insisted, wiping tears and snot from my face as Kuga seated herself on the edge of my bed.

Her expression didn't change, even after I fell into mumbling and finally silence. Steepling her fingers over her knees, she stared at me. Those black eyes drifted across my skin, leaving an oily stain behind.

"I told you that we are the same, did I not?"

I shook my head. "We're not."

A low, humming note filled her throat, and some of the panic I felt eased. "The history of Deathsingers is not a pretty one. There were times when we were revered, and there were times when we were feared. Even in our homeland of Araphel. I was born during a time of fear. My mother and grandmother taught me the Songs, because they knew what we did was important. Without us, belligerent souls would never face judgment, and they would wander the world, seeking for a way to return."

Kuga's bloodless lips cracked when she smiled. I lowered myself into the chair by my vanity. Eyes dry, I clung to every word she spoke.

"Growing up in that environment made me a timid, fearful thing. I knew I had power, but I could not use it for fear of being punished, and if I did not use my power, then the phantoms might come for me. I lived by the rules and did everything I could to be safe."

I could see the girl she described. Only instead of Kuga's face, it was mine. Twisted and pale and painfully afraid. Living in the shadows to avoid being seen.

"When my lover tried to take me against my will, I fought back. The dagger slipped through his ribs so easily, and when he drew his last breath, his soul was released. I'd never been so close to one before, and I consumed it before I could get control of myself. His soul was weak and with little power. A bit of water shaping and glamor. But it was more than I had before."

"You told me this already," I said, forcing my words through a tight throat. "That doesn't make us alike."

She ignored me. Raising a bony finger, she swirled it through the air. A shimmering trail of blue water followed the digit.

"Two moon cycles passed before I consumed another soul. It was my first journey with my Reaper. War had broken out, and many of our people joined the armies, using their powerful screams to kill for the king. They sent out those of us who were too young to fight out to search for the lost souls."

It dawned on me that I had never really asked much about what Deathsingers did. Perhaps I hadn't wanted to ask her because she was a corrupt version of one, and I thought she would lie. But she spoke about Singing the lost to judgment with such reverence.

"There was an innkeeper. A flighty Will-o'-the-wisp, who recognized us for what we were. She threatened to expose us because she didn't want her brother's soul taken to Dycidium. They have an affinity for spirits themselves, and she knew he was near. I killed her to keep our secret, and I consumed both souls. I told myself it was to protect my Reaper, but I knew the truth then."

"And what is the truth?" I whispered.

"That the only way to truly ever be safe in a world full of monsters was to become the most dangerous monster in it."

She rose and walked to the tent's opening, pushing back the flaps before turning to look at me one last time. I raised my head and felt my eyes burn with unshed tears when I saw the pity in her gaze.