Guardian
Author: Megan Haskell
Date: 2018-06-19 07:00:00+00:00
Description: The Sanyare Chronicles Companion Novella An angel’s purpose is to serve and protect the souls under her care. Souls crave new life, and the wicked will kill to claim it. Judith is an angel, a guardian called to watch over the souls of the deserving in paradise. But when a rift between realms is opened in the wastelands of the wicked, every sword is needed. While the archangels work to seal the breach, Judith and the guardians fight to block the souls’ escape. The dead cannot be allowed to possess the living. A single mistake disrupts the closure, crippling the guardians and threatening the saf
Publisher: Trabuco Ridge Press
Rights: All rights reserved (#283089446408458)

CONTENTS

Copyright

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

The End

Blank Page

Free Short Story

Review Request

Sanyare: The Winter Warrior

Acknowledgments

Author Bio

Copyright © 2018 Megan Haskell

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced in any form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations used in book reviews or certain other noncommercial uses as permitted by copyright law.

Cover Designed by Deranged Doctor Design (http://www.derangeddoctordesign.com/)

Edited by Katie McCoach and Kimberly Peticolas

Published by Trabuco Ridge Press

CHAPTER ONE

A VOICE SCREAMED through Judith’s mental pathways, a deafening shockwave of panic and pain.

All available level two guardians and shepherds, alert, alert! A breach has opened in Hollows North! Repeat, a breach has opened in Hollows North. Make haste!

Judith dropped the ceramic mug in her hands, the vessel shattering on the stone floor. A breach? In Hollows North? How was that even possible?

With deft fingers, Judith hurried to strap on the custom armor and enchanted great sword she’d been issued when she entered the level two choir. She wouldn’t know anything until she got to Hollows North, and she’d have to fly fast to make it there in time. The archangels wouldn’t wait.

Hidden in the deepest caves of the Wasteland canyons, Hollows North was the last chance of redemption for the wicked souls of the Human Realm. A rehabilitation center of sorts, the horde housed within the cavern was the worst humankind had to offer. Or very nearly—Hollows South held the truly irredeemable.

If the souls of the wicked escaped their prison and possessed the bodies of the living, they could destroy the weave of fate. And if the Moirai lost control of the weave…Chaos would come. The god of entropy would have nothing to stop him from destroying the mortal realms.

Judith flexed her wings between the straps of her breastplate, ensuring freedom of movement. Silver metal gleamed. Offduty or not, a breach was an emergency that required every available hand and sword.

Selfishly, she thought it was also a chance to prove herself ready for promotion to level three and join the choir of counselors. It was now or never—there might not be another opportunity for a thousand years.

A niggling sense of shame wormed its way into her heart. Angels were born to serve in one capacity or another. Ambition wasn’t punished, but it wasn’t exactly encouraged either.

Blowing out a swift breath, Judith let go of the traitorous thoughts. She launched herself off the aerie ledge to join several dozen angels as they dove for the Wastelands thousands of feet below. The wind rushed through her hair and feathers, her heart rate sped as the dry, desiccated ground neared. Snapping her wings out at the last second, Judith veered to avoid a rocky cliff, then flew a circuitous route through the canyons at speed.

A grin broke across her face. She wasn’t the strongest of the guardians, but she was amongst the fastest and most agile. She hadn’t flown like this in years, hadn’t needed to since the first level training races. She hadn’t realized she’d missed it in her seemingly endless days of guarding the paradise islands and the peaceful souls of the deserving.

Dodging beneath a low overhang, Judith swung her feet down to land hard on the ground in a crouch. Wings wide, her hand touched earth to stabilize and halt forward movement. She lifted her head. Thuds and sliding sand announced the arrival of the rest of the flight of angels behind her.

The entrance to Hollows North was a narrow crack between two boulders. Beyond lay the antechamber of Cerberus, the three-headed hellhound whose fangs dripped venom and whose fur writhed with snakes. He and his offspring were the vigilant guards of the wicked and would tear apart any soul who tried to escape. In fact, hellhound venom was the key ingredient in the enchantments placed on the soul-destroying weapons of the guardians. Without them, all souls would break loose.

The hellhounds weren’t in position.

Like a slap to the face, the shock of their absence sent Judith’s mind reeling. It was unheard of. There was only one place they could be: inside the cavern, sending the wicked to their final death. It made sense of course, but she hadn’t considered the ramifications of a breach until that moment.

Judith swallowed, preparing for the battle that was to come. These souls were supposed to have one final chance at life, an opportunity to side with virtue instead of vice. Instead, Cerberus’ venom and the guardians’ swords would deny them that chance. Those that fell would be returned to the nothing. She’d never witnessed the final death of a soul before, and had hoped she never would. Hope would be denied.

A chilling howl echoed from the tunnels. Judith rushed down the path, her wings clenched tightly to her back. The rock walls encroached, dimly lit by the emergency torches spaced at long intervals in the passage. The tunnel was narrow and twisted, allowing only one angel to proceed at a time.

A head shorter than most of her kind, the brown wings in front of her were all Judith could see. She had no idea what they were walking into. But the hellhounds’ growls and hissing snarls, and the snap and crack of whips convinced her that whatever was happening, the souls were winning.

Or at least, not losing.

Archangel Michael held up a hand, just visible above the crowd. Judith felt herself leaning forward with the rest of the angels, anxious to hear what the greatest of them had to say.

“Spread out. Try to flank them, push them away from the void. Gabriel and I will close the breach while the rest of you keep them from passing through.”

Not profound, but practical. Judith knew how to take orders. She followed Gabriel in the path to the left along with about half of the assembled flight. The rest followed Michael to the right. With their backs pressed to the wall, they waited to engage until they had the strongest possible position.

The souls hadn’t noticed the angels behind them, their attention riveted on the breach between worlds. They desired one thing, and one thing only: a new body, and they’d do anything to claim one.

One by one, in slow progression, the souls slid through the gap, their incorporeal bodies squeezing and shifting to accommodate the sliver of space-time between the realms. A dozen lanky four-legged arachnia-daemons with enchanted flails weren’t enough to keep them back.

“Where does it lead?” Judith asked Asher, the brown-winged angel she’d run in with. He was a high-level sorter. He should have a better idea of the problem they faced.

Disdain curled his lip. “The Human Realm.”

Gods above . . . the humans had no protection against possession. They would be easy targets for these souls who had succumbed to the darkest emotions.

The wicked swarmed forward, groaning their torment as they twined together and apart. The hellhounds snapped their teeth. Three of them guarded this cave, each with three heads. Nine maws filled with venom-coated fangs tore at the souls that ventured too near. A woman’s soul screamed as a hound shredded her existence, sending her back to the nothing from which all of creation was born. Yet still, the plasma that shaped her remembered form reached for the freedom of the gate.

Judith couldn’t watch as the soul disintegrated, burning away to ash on the wind. A sob caught in her throat.

Did the woman deserve that final death?

Did it matter?

“Charge!”

Judith hesitated, instincts screaming. Her sword would do the same as Cerberus’ teeth. Could she end an existence?

Asher lunged forward, gleefully swinging into the souls in front of him. His sword slid through the ectoplasm of the incorporeal forms with a sucking gasp.

Judith cringed, her heart recoiling at the other angel’s eagerness. Every fiber of her being protested the necessary death.

Guardians were the protectors of the souls, but also the last defense of the nine realms. No matter the cost, a breach must be closed. It was a rule that had been drilled into her from her first days in the choir. She had been trained for this. Eager or not, it was her chance to prove her worth.

Setting her shoulders against the impending slaughter, Judith gripped the great sword with both hands and swung. The poisoned metal sliced through plasma. The soul before her screamed its agony, incorporeal eyes wide and panicked as its essence was stripped away. Clenching her teeth, Judith pulled the sword back and struck again. This time, she pierced the core of the soul. Its scream was silenced. The gauzy white material faded away.

Judith rubbed away an errant tear that threatened to fall. She had more work to do.

Insubstantial though they seemed, the material that formed the soul was a physical construct. It shaped itself to the thoughts and memories of its living body, but it could also bend and reshape itself into a form of its own choosing. Here in the Daemon Realm, free will took on a whole new meaning.

Such as the soul that now coiled itself in front of Judith like a cobra ready to strike. That is, if a cobra had five thorn-encrusted tails and a mouth full of fangs. The thing’s head dodged backward as Judith lunged forward, two of its tails sweeping out to lash her bare arms. Plasma spines scraped across her skin, leaving a tracery of lines from elbow to wrist, but the soul couldn’t gain purchase. Not in a guardian.

Judith spun, bringing her sword around for another try at the soul’s head. If she could strike a blow to the center mass, the plasma would burn away on the breeze. But the form this soul had chosen gave little room for error. The tentacles swept away, avoiding the blade, while the head taunted Judith from three feet above.

The soul flicked three of its tails in Judith’s direction. Judith brought her sword up in a diagonal slice. Two tentacles fell away on the wind, but the last struck the plate covering her chest. Stumbling backward from the force of the blow, Judith nearly lost her balance. Only a quick extension of her wings kept her on her feet.

Even less human now than before, the soul’s remembered face pulled back in a snarl. The skin, if you could call it that, hollowed out between remembered bones, as if the soul decayed the way its physical body once had. Teeth grew into four-inch fangs. The ghastly apparition lunged forward. Sense was gone.

Judith ducked as the soul charged toward her. Sword pointed to the sky, she sliced the creature in two as it sailed overhead. The white mist of destroyed plasma rained down around her and disappeared.

There was no chance to catch her breath. Two more souls plunged toward her, taking their comrade’s place. Four more behind them. Still more behind them.

Grunts and shouts, groaning wails, cracking whips and the crackle of flames. The sounds of battle between the guardians and their charges. Thought ceased. One action flowed into the next, each swing tearing into the horde. There was no room for empathy, no time for compassion. Everything boiled down to one pressing goal: close the breach.

Michael and Gabriel moved behind the daemon shepherds, to stand near the rent between worlds, but the daemons struggled to keep the souls from entering the void. The horde had become a cloud of thick white fog, obscuring the area completely. If the souls continued to pass through the unauthorized portal, they would destroy any progress the archangels made toward its closure.

Forcing her way through the crowd, Judith once again found herself shoulder to shoulder with Asher. He wasn’t a combat guardian, yet he fought with profound skill and fierce glee. Judith could almost think that he was enjoying the destruction of the wicked souls in their care.

An angel shouldn’t feel joy at the ultimate end of an existence.

Sword swinging in broad strokes, she had no time to analyze her wariness. She could only do her job and give Michael the room he needed to fix this problem.

Soon, another angel joined them. And another. Combined with the daemon shepherds and their flaming whips, a cordon around the breach was created, the souls kept back.

Michael and Gabriel lifted their hands to the pulsing gap in space-time. A burning orb of light built between their palms, a physical construct of the force of their will. They would shove the ball into the gap, where it would explode to seal the veil and close the portal. The white-hot sphere grew larger, and larger still.

The souls pressed forward, as if they knew their chance at escape was about to close. The remembered form of a woman slid forward, pushed by the horde behind her. Her gaze darted between the gap in the veil and the weapons of the guardians. Wide eyes met Judith’s gaze. Panic and desire warred for dominance.

“Help me,” the woman moaned, her eyes pleading. Her form braced against the souls behind her, but it did little good. The others pressed forward, jumping and lunging against the snapping and slicing barrier the guardians had built with enchanted weapons, struggling to reach the breach.

Judith paused, her sword hesitated. Less than a length away, she could see the fear in the soul’s eyes. She wasn’t trying to escape, she was being pushed. Judith’s sword dipped.

The woman’s fear shifted to devious glee. She grinned, her incorporeal teeth bared. Jumped. Her body arrowed forward like a bolt from a crossbow.

Judith’s sword lifted, too slow. Her eyes widened even as she shouted a warning, too late. The soul shot past Judith’s head with enough speed to blow the loose hair around her face. She was going to break through.

Michael and Gabriel leaned back, braced themselves to shove the orb into the space between realms.

The woman’s soul curled around the orb and through the breach. Caught off guard in the precarious moment of transition, the orb wobbled and fell from the archangels’ hands.

Everyone down!

The world exploded in white light and a reverberating boom shook the rock, raining gravel and stone around them.

CHAPTER TWO

SOMEONE SHOOK HER arm. Judith’s eyes opened. Asher’s lips moved. Silence reigned oppressive.

I can’t hear you. Judith thought at Asher.

Nothing registered in his eyes, though the slash of downturned eyebrows suggested he might not be interested in hearing what she had to say anyway. Spittle flew from his lips as words spewed from his mouth. Words Judith still couldn’t hear or understand.

I can’t hear you.

Nothing. Her inner ear was completely dead.

Judith turned her head. She lay on the dirt floor of the vast cavern of Hollows North. A half-dozen daemons half-heartedly flailed their whips, herding the wicked souls to the far side of the room, away from the guardians who were still recuperating from the blast.

It was gone. How it had been achieved, Judith didn’t know, but the gap in space-time had been sealed and the souls no longer felt the frenzied pull of the mortal realm. They complied with the daemons’ orders and moved across the space without protest.

Meanwhile, Michael and Gabriel stood peering at the space where the breach had been. Though covered in stone dust and debris, both archangels appeared uninjured. At least Judith’s mistake hadn’t cost any lives.

Asher shook her again, drawing her attention back to his face. His lips moved. She tried to understand what he was saying, but no sound made it through her damaged eardrums. She shook her head, pointing to her ears. Asher gave an exaggerated heave of his shoulders, and rolled his eyes. He pulled her to her feet, then shoved her sword into her hands with enough force to have her staggering backward. It took three tries, but Judith sheathed the blade, and stumbled after him out of the Hollows.

Keeping one hand on the wall, Judith struggled to regain her balance. The walls and floor seemed to shift beneath her. Her head felt stuffed with fine wool. Something wet and warm trickled down the side of her face. Putting a hand to the spot, her fingers came away red. No time to stop. Asher was already out of sight.

Finally, she made it out of the dark tunnels and into the light. It stung her eyes, but she lifted her face to the sky anyway, appreciating the warmth and the feeling of open air around her. A few more angels stumbled out after her.

Asher grabbed her by the shoulders. Judith snapped to attention and regretted it immediately as she nearly fell over. He pointed to his lips. Healer, he mouthed, lip curled in a disdainful snarl. Judith nodded her understanding. She would fly to the healing center in the paradise guardian headquarters. Baruch would be able to fix her.

As soon as his hands released her, Judith took two stumbling steps forward. Wings spread. Wobbled. The tip of her left wing brushed the ground. Righting herself, she jogged forward to catch the air. Flapped once. Twice. And was airborne. Dipping and dodging in an irregular pattern, Judith was sure she looked intoxicated, but Asher played the escort, angry annoyance broadcast with every beat of his wings.

She couldn’t blame him. She had been the weak link in the fence around the breach. She had hesitated, and the end result had been a near catastrophic explosion of focused will. When the others heard the story, she was sure to be blamed for the failure. Yet somehow, the breach had still been sealed. Perhaps the escaped souls had already been returned as well. If she were lucky, the end result would outweigh her mistake.

The journey home took three times as long as the dive to the cavern. When they finally landed at the door of the healing hall, Asher grabbed her arm and hauled her roughly inside.

Judith’s eyes searched for Baruch, her friend and favorite resource for all things healing, but Asher had other ideas. He marched forward, pulling Judith with him, faster than her aching body wanted to go. Her left wing dragged on the floor behind her. She tripped over every rough edge in the floor. But Asher gripped her tight, without sympathy for her injuries.

Finally, a red-robed healer spotted her. The woman’s lips moved. Asher answered, his hands slashing through the air to emphasize his words. The woman’s brows arced down over dark brown eyes. Her wings lifted a few inches in agitation, then lowered as her gaze traveled over Judith’s injured body.

“Where’s Baruch?” Judith asked the woman. “I want to see Baruch.”

The woman lifted an eyebrow, tilted her head slightly to the side.

Judith shook her head again. “I can’t hear anything, not even thought-speech. I know Baruch. He’ll help.”

A level four healer, Baruch wasn’t yet the strongest healer in the hall, but he was on his way up. Judith had first met him as a fledgling when she broke her wing. He’d been a level three trainee at the time, and she was his first independent bone setting. When she’d cried, he looked her in the eyes and asked if she could be tough for him, said that he was relying on her to prove his skills to his superiors. It had made her feel important. She sat up straighter, gritted her teeth, and learned how to breathe through pain. When the bone was set and healed, he’d given her a hug and paraded her in front of his commander to extoll her bravery. She’d taken every injury to him since.

The woman narrowed her eyes and turned back to Asher. He nodded, said a few fast words Judith couldn’t lip read. The woman marched off down the hall, Asher pulling Judith along behind once more.

After shoving Judith into one of the semi-private three-walled alcoves that served as exam rooms for the injured, Asher crossed his arms and stood guard at the entry. As if she were a threat to every angel in the hall. As if the mistake had been intentional. Asher was known to be the vindictive sort, but how could he think she would intentionally hurt anyone?

The healer sat Judith down on the narrow bed, and with gentle hands, turned her head from side to side to look at Judith’s ears. Standing suddenly, the woman went to the alcove opening. Two more angels stumbled into view, blood on their cheeks, eyes sunken and hollow. They leaned on each other for support.

Judith’s shoulders fell, her heart dropping to her toes. This was her fault. Even if she hadn’t meant it, even if she’d been trying to show compassion and the qualities of a counselor, the fact was, she’d inadvertently caused injury to the guardians.

The healer hustled out, glancing over her shoulder with a stay-put motion. She needn’t have bothered. With Asher at the door and waves of dizziness keeping her off-balance, Judith wasn’t going anywhere. She leaned back on the bed and closed her eyes.

Snap. Judith flinched. Her eyes blinked open. The second snap of fingers next to hear ear had her jolting upright. She put a hand to her ear, mouth going slack. She could hear! After three weeks of pure silence, the sound was a painful relief.

Baruch smiled, white teeth shining bright between the darker skin of his lips. Dimples creased his cheeks below high angled cheekbones, yet his deep brown eyes studied Judith with intense concern. “Ears are better, then?” he asked.

“I can hear you!” Judith paused, gaze traveling out to stare blindly at the wall of her room as she listened. She could hear the swish of a mop on the floor, the squeak of metal across stone. Footsteps traveled down the hall. “I can hear everything!”

And has your thought-speech returned as well? Baruch asked.

Yes. Judith grinned. Your thoughts are as clear as my own.

“Good. The treatment worked.” Baruch shared a weary grin, relief etched into his skin. He had extended himself too far.

This was the third and final attempt to fix her damaged eardrums. At first, Baruch thought it was an easy matter of healing the membrane inside the eardrum. He fixed that within a few hours of her arrival in the healers’ hall. Yet she still couldn’t hear. A week later, after further research, he brought in a colleague who had treated a similar injury to the ears. He believed the issue was related to the nerves, but even working together they hadn’t been able to return her hearing in any form.

If they hadn’t fixed her ears, she would have been deemed irreparable, demoted to staff headquarters with the unprotected angels. There were plenty of others who could fill her position. But Baruch hadn’t given up on her, despite her fall from grace. He’d brought in an entire team of healers to focus on the intricate structures that allowed for auditory sensation.

“How long have I been asleep this time?” Judith asked.

“Approximately fifteen hours.”

Twice as long as the last procedure. She knew it was a complicated process, but with five healers surrounding her and assisting Baruch, she’d thought it would have gone faster.

“Have you rested?” Healers were known to drain themselves to full burnout when the need arose.

“Enough. But stand up. Let’s see if your balance has returned as well as your hearing.”

Judith did as asked standing next to the tiny cot with one hand resting on the covers.

“Step forward, away from the bed. Do you feel dizzy?”

“No.”

“Look up at the ceiling. Now down at the floor. Stand on one leg. Now the other.”

Judith performed each task without pause, the actions smooth and easy.

“Close your eyes. Stand on one leg.”

Lifting her right leg, Judith stumbled. Her eyes blinked open, disappointment curling her lips into a frown.

“That’s okay. Try again. Even guardians without ear damage have problems with that one at times.”

Judith nodded, closed her eyes. She lifted her right leg again, more slowly this time. She focused on her internal sense of gravity, found her balance.

“Good. Now the other.”

Carefully lowering her right leg so as not to lose her focus, Judith switched feet. Her balance was better on her right side. Always had been. She had no trouble lifting her left leg off the ground.

“Last, let’s check the wings. Extend them both,” Baruch ordered.

There wasn’t much space in Judith’s tiny alcove. Fully extended, her wingtips brushed either side of the three-walled room.

“Good. Close the right.”

Judith did as Baruch asked, struggling to keep her balance. She grinned when her right wing touched her back.

“Switch sides.”

Carefully, Judith extended the right wing and closed the left. After three weeks of inactivity, her strength clearly needed to be rebuilt a bit, but her balance had returned. She wouldn’t be dragging her wings on the floor any longer.

“Wonderful.” Baruch’s grin was genuine this time, reaching all the way up to his eyes. “You’ll need to take it easy for a little while, regain your strength.”

“I can go back to work?”

Baruch nodded. “You’re free to fly. Just don’t strain your wings. However, I think you’ll have to answer to the Moirai before you’re admitted back into the choir.”

Judith frowned, her gaze dropping to the floor. As expected, the guardians had blamed her for the explosion, and now that her ears had healed, she would have to answer for her mistake. She blew out a breath.

“How bad is it?”

Baruch shook his head. “I don’t know.” He glanced at the entry to Judith’s room. A guard stood sentry just outside, the edge of his wing and elbow visible through the arch. Though Asher had left shortly after ensconcing her with the healers, the leadership apparently found it prudent to keep a combat guardian on watch. The men and women stationed at her door had changed every few hours, and only a few had bothered to peek into the room. The few she tried to engage with wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t tell her why they were there. But they also wouldn’t leave her on her own.

“You’ve been called to headquarters. He’s your escort.”

They no longer trusted her. She’d had weeks to come to terms with it, but it still felt like someone had punched her in the gut.

Judith tried not to let the heartache show in her expression, but with Baruch’s sympathetic smile, she knew she’d failed.

“Best get it finished, then.” She dusted off her brown leather leggings and shook out her feathers. She wouldn’t shirk her responsibility, but they had to know it was a simple miscalculation. An error. She certainly hadn’t intended to hurt anyone. She would face them with remorse, but not guilt.

With a final deep breath, Judith stepped forward toward the guard.

“Judith?” Baruch said, bringing her attention back over her shoulder. “Try to avoid letting your eardrums implode, okay? I’d prefer to avoid fifteen hours in a healing trance in the future.”

The half-hearted teasing did little to lift her spirits.

CHAPTER THREE

ONE OF THE biggest angels Judith had ever seen stood guard outside the three-walled room. Muscles rippled across his chest and shoulders. The crisscrossed straps of his weapons harness accentuated rather than hid every ridge and valley. Black leathers, black hair, and black wings added to the intimidation.

Not that she needed much intimidation. She wouldn’t hide from her mistakes.

“Follow me.” Simple words, stated without malice.

Judith didn’t hesitate this time. She promised herself she would never hesitate ever again. Not when hesitation could spell disaster.

Striding out through the healer’s hall, Judith couldn’t help but notice the narrowed gazes of the other angels in the room. All conversation ceased. Every injury had been placed on her shoulders. Maybe that was fair.

She kept her gaze focused forward, her shoulders squared. She would confess her error, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be unjustly blamed. An accident couldn’t be punished the same as an intentional breach of protocol, could it? Compassion for the damned wasn’t a crime.

Judith mentally shook the thought away. It didn’t much matter. The Moirai would be the judges of her actions, not the guardians in this room. And they would be fair.

She hoped.

Without missing a step, the guard pushed off the aerie balcony and launched himself into the air with a single beat of his wings. Her own wings weakened by three weeks of disuse, Judith couldn’t do the same. She took two quick steps for speed, but even with the extra acceleration, she dropped several lengths in the air before finding the strength to fly. Funny how quickly muscles atrophied.

The guard stared at her impassively, waiting for her to catch up while he circled on an updraft. He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Judith drew close, he pointed his wings in the direction of the Moirai’s Wasteland office. Too soon, they arrived.

Judith landed outside the glass-fronted building with a careful downbeat. She swallowed an anxious lump in her throat, then pushed open the door. Ssierra waited just inside. The guard must have alerted her that they were coming.

Ssierra was more than a mere secretary. Much more. The snake daemon knew everything that happened in the Daemon Realm, perhaps even more than the Moirai themselves. She was the lynchpin that kept the day-to-day tasks running smoothly, when the Moirai were preoccupied with the mortal weave.

“Thisss way.” Ssierra slithered out from behind the front desk, her long snake’s tail undulating behind her. The woman had the head, arms, and torso of a human woman, with the tail of a cobra. She wore no clothing here in the Daemon Realm, though she had been seen with a shirt when venturing into colder locales. Dusty brown hair that matched the color of her scales was tied back in a neat bun, and narrow reading glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose.

Judith followed Ssierra into the elevator, careful not to step on the end of her tail, which wound around the interior of the box.

“Yakob, you are no longer required. You may ask for reassignment.”

The guard gave a quick nod as the elevator doors slid closed. Judith let out a breath. It must be a good sign that the muscle was being sent away. It had to mean she wasn’t in too much trouble.

She glanced over at Ssierra. “How bad is it?”

Ssierra lifted a manicured eyebrow above the rim of her glasses. “It is not good.”

The elevator doors opened. Ssierra slid out into the hall, waiting by the double doors of the chambers of the Moirai. Inside, the three sisters would be processing the collection, placement, and retrieval of souls throughout the nine realms. It was a task that had consumed them since the beginning of time.

Inside that room lay Judith’s own fate.

Judith squared her shoulders. The explosion might have been her fault, but it was an accident, a momentary hesitation. The soul had deceived her, tricked her into providing an opportunity for escape. The timing had been her undoing. A moment earlier or a moment later and nothing would have happened.

The Moirai would see the truth. They could See everything. So why did her wings want to spread in a defensive curl?

Ssierra pushed open the doors, allowing Judith to precede her.

Judith stepped into the room. Dropped to one knee.

“Your ladyships,” she began.

“Hush,” Atropos snapped, her voice a whip to Judith’s guilty conscience. “You are accused of failing your duty as a guardian, of intentionally allowing a bodiless soul to slip through the veil into the Human Realm. How do you plead?”

“Atropos, dear sister, let’s not jump to conclusions. You’ve seen the weft. You know the weave. A lighter touch might be in order,” Clotho said.

Judith kept her gaze trained on the ground despite the hope that surged in her breast. Clotho was the peacemaker, the mediator of the sisters. If she wasn’t angry with Judith, then there could be a chance of redemption. She just might keep her place in the choir.

“You are too easy on them,” Atropos growled. “She defied her orders.”

A pause. Judith dared a glance up. Atropos sat to Clotho’s right, the younger sister Lachesis, to her left. All three had converted their old loom—which had become chaotic and complicated with the population boom in the Human Realm—to a modern human computer system and underlying database. Judith had no idea how the devices worked, but the sisters had spent moons setting it up and learning the intricacies of the technology under the watchful guidance of a few human souls who had the distinction of having been at the forefront of the technology when they’d died. Now, it seemed, every former software engineer was recruited upon arriving at the gates. The poor souls didn’t have a choice, couldn’t even retire in the afterlife. At least, not until the technology moved beyond their abilities.

“Judith, please tell us your story.” Judith’s gaze met the clear blue eyes of the middle sister. She quickly returned to staring at the floor.

“There was a soul, a woman, who begged for help. I thought she was trying to push back against the horde, that she wasn’t trying to pass through the veil. I thought she just didn’t want to return to the nothing. I was wrong.”

“The worst possible timing. The archangels nearly had the breach closed.” Atropos snapped while squinting at her screen, the bright light casting her face in ghastly white light.

“I know, your ladyship.”

“A small clan of barbegazi will fall through a glacier crevice in ten,” Clotho interrupted.

“Got it,” Atropos responded. “Reaper fifteen, en route.”

At the same time, Lachesis’ dreamy gaze turned to Judith. “You show great compassion.”

“But poor judgment,” Clotho added. “Atropos is right, your timing couldn’t have been worse. In such a dire situation, we must do everything possible to stop the breach. There is no time for hesitation.”

“I understand,” Judith replied, her wings drooping. “I just thought…”

“Thought what?” Atropos demanded. “Thought you’d be the one to save a wicked in the middle of a battle?”

Judith cringed. When she phrased it that way it sounded ludicrous. Still, she had to try to explain.

“I thought I could help. I thought if someone just listened, the soul might be redeemed.”

“The residents of Hollows North are unlikely to be redeemed. Even when given a final chance at life, ninety-nine percent fail to overcome their sins. You must learn to assess the situation before assessing the soul,” Clotho said.

“Yes, your ladyship.”

“Good. Now there’s the matter of your punishment.”

Judith’s heart sank and her stomach twisted.

“Now, we know that you were acting out of compassion and the mistake was an honest one, however the fact remains that eight other guardians were injured in the explosion.”

“Thank the gods the breach was closed from the other side, or we could have had human casualties as well,” Atropos interrupted. The rapid tapping of her fingers on the device buttons seemed to emphasize the chastisement.

“Yes, but we didn’t.” Clotho’s tone became exasperated. “We already agreed on this, sister.”

“Yes, yes.” Atropos waved away the comments.

“It’s a fitting mission,” Lachesis murmured. “She’ll do well.”

Clotho ignored her younger sibling with a shake of her head. “Until further notice, you are suspended from duty in the level two choir. You will no longer stand watch over the paradise islands. However, Lord Garamaen Sanyaro sent word that his Apprentice will be arriving through the portal momentarily. With five still recovering from their injuries at the breach, we cannot spare an escort. Which is why you will pick her up and bring her here.”

“My wings are still too weak to carry the weight over distance.”

“Use the Wasteland path. Bring her directly here, to our offices—no delays.”

Judith bowed her head once more. “Yes, your ladyship.”

Escort duty. More like babysitting duty. Normally reserved for the lowest of level one trainees, anyone could bring a guest through the portal to headquarters. The Wasteland path was protected, both by standard operating procedure as well as by magical barriers. It was an easy job, wasted on a level two guardian.

Judith’s wings slumped. She wasn’t a level two guardian any longer. Not only had she failed to prove her readiness for level three, she had lost her former status. How could she regain their trust?

“You are dismissed,” Clotho said.

Without another word, Judith stood and made for the door. She would do as they asked, and more. She would find a way to return to favor, no matter how long it took for the guardians to forgive her mistake.

Patience and forgiveness. Virtues to strive for.

“One more thing,” Lachesis’ dreamy voice reached out across the room. “Don’t forget your sword.”

Judith’s brow furrowed in confusion. She wore her sword in its sheath. All guardians did when they weren’t in their home aeries. It was standard procedure. She shrugged it off as a quirk of the weaver. “Of course, your ladyship.”

“Until next time,” Lachesis called as the doors swung closed on silent hinges.

CHAPTER FOUR

VINES TWINED AROUND arbors, bright orange and pink and white flowers easily visible, even at a distance. When she’d been an early level one trainee, Judith had enjoyed the peace of the portal island. Standing guard at the only officially sanctioned gate into the Daemon Realm could be beyond boring, but it was also one of the only regions dedicated to the natural flora and fauna of the realm. It was the one place you could close your eyes and hear the calls of the birds, then open them to find the real, living creatures hiding in the broad leaves or amongst the branches of the trees.

Judith smiled, remembering the curious bird who used to visit her every day on duty. It lived in the branches of a tree overhanging the visitor’s bench at the portal. It would trill at her every few cycles, popping its head out of the foliage, or hopping onto the bench to watch her. At times, she thought it was trying to ask a question, she just didn’t understand its speech. She hoped it still lived in that tree.

Apprentice Sanyare waits at the bench, Zeke stated through thought-speech. Did you know she’s human?

Judith’s grin broadened. She hadn’t known Zeke had finally made it into the choir.

She must have some fae ancestry. She is Lord Garamaen Sanyaro’s heir, Judith replied.

Yes, that’s what she said. She’s a little twitchy though. And a little pushy.

Zeke must have been inducted just recently. Portal duty was typically reserved for the lowest members of level one, the men and women who had proven an inability to be possessed, but not yet trained in the basics of soul maintenance. In fact, under normal circumstances, Zeke would have probably been tasked with bringing Apprentice Sanyare to the Moirai. It would have been a good opportunity for him to experience human behaviors.

Instead, Judith had been demoted. She grimaced, feeling an unusual anger welling up within her breast. She could only recall one other instance when she’d felt this negative emotion, when she’d lost one of the training races. Even then, she’d been angry at herself for making a wrong turn, not angry at the end result. The emotion was most unwelcome.

Understood. Judith replied, shoving her bitterness out of her thoughts. I am almost there.

Backwinging to a landing near the portal, Judith caught sight of their guest. A woman sat on the bench, black hair tied back in a tight bun. She wore a black scaled leather vest and matching pants, a long-sleeved red shirt underneath. But the weapons strapped to her thighs held Judith’s attention the longest. Knives, more than a hands-length from handle to tip, Judith was sure. The polished red and black handles matched the woman’s attire, the rear bolsters engraved with deep runes: Tiwaz, Lord Garamaen Sanyaro’s namesake and a rune for leadership, self-sacrifice, and rationality; Uruz, the rune for physical strength, courage, and untamed potential.

If she hadn’t already known the woman was Apprentice Sanyare Nuriel Lhethannien, she might have guessed based on the weapons alone.

The woman’s shocking violet gaze lifted, then quickly squinted against the dust and debris kicked up by Judith’s landing.

“You are Apprentice Sanyare?” Judith asked, just to be sure.

“Yes.” The woman held out her hand, thumb pointed at the sky.

Unsure what the gesture meant, Judith thumped her fist against her chest and bowed in the traditional greeting of the guardians. She thought she saw a quick twitch of the woman’s lips. An indication of humor? Judith’s experience with living humans was limited, and though they shared some of the same characteristics with the angels, she was less than confident in her abilities to understand them.

“I am Judith. I will be your escort to meet the Moirai. Please come with me.”

Judith led the way through the gardens along a smooth stone path. The stones appeared old and worn, but Judith knew it was a facade. Though it had existed for thousands of years, the portal was seldom used since the living rarely visited the land of the dead.

“It’s like walking through a rainbow,” a tinkling voice chimed from Sanyare’s shoulder.

The tiny creature, no bigger than the palm of Judith’s hand, had camouflaged herself to blend with the woman’s skin and hair. She’d done it so well Judith hadn’t even seen her until she spoke. Unwilling to reveal her ignorance of the creature’s presence, Judith stayed silent, but examined her guest carefully. Two more of the creatures were hidden on Sanyare’s clothing, their naked bodies transformed to exactly match the color and texture of the surface on which they lay.

Judith decided they must be pixies, though she’d never met any before. The vast majority of the souls residing in the Daemon Realm were human, and Judith had never had cause to visit the fae paradises. At least, not yet. Someday it might be interesting to explore the other seven realms via the remembered forms of their dead.

“Where are all the souls?” Apprentice Sanyare asked.

Judith gave her a sideways glance. Shouldn’t the heir to the most powerful elf lord in all the nine realms know this already? With a confused frown, Judith answered the question.

“The portal is isolated from the population to prevent contamination from the living or a soul’s escape. All souls must stay in their designated areas until such time as they are selected for reincarnation,” she recited the passage from her fledgling texts.

When these laws had been broken in the ancient past, there had been disastrous consequences. The first arrival of the elves had nearly destroyed the careful balance between the living and the dead. Elves had lost their lives. Souls had been exterminated.

Judith hadn’t been present of course. The last incursion had occurred at least a thousand years before her birth. But history was a lesson learned young and learned well.

As one of the only mortal beings allowed access to the Daemon Realm, Sanyare should already know this. If not, why was she here?

“Makes sense, I guess,” Sanyare replied. “How do we get to the Moirai, then?”

Judith buried her questions. Better to leave the interrogation to the Moirai. Instead, she pushed back a green leaf that was wider than the human was tall, watching the woman in her peripheral vision.

“We use the path,” Judith replied.

They stood at the edge of the floating paradise island, some five thousand lengths above the desert Wastelands below. The path they stood on now continued through that rocky expanse of dry ground.

Sanyare stumbled back, away from the cliff, the blood draining from her face.

Judith chuckled, but tried to empathize and see the view through the human’s eyes. To a creature without wings, this was a deadly descent. There was no way down, except to fall. The guardians used that natural living fear to help keep the souls in their domains. It was one of many tools to restrain their movements. Not that any of the deserving souls wanted to visit the Wastelands of the wicked.

A wide expanse of sand and heat was all that could be seen below. Water evaporated before it ever hit the ground, and vegetation could not survive without the liquid of life. Daemons herded the wicked souls across the landscape, their fiery whips cracking and snapping at the remnants of lives lost to depravity and vice.

“We will be traveling through the Wastelands. Do not drift off the path, or I will not be able to guarantee your safety. The same goes for your friends. Wasteland souls aren’t picky,” Judith warned.

Sanyare turned, the pull of muscle around her eyes and twitch of her thumb belying her tension.

“How do we reach the ground?”

“Since you have no wings of your own, I will have to carry you.” Judith swallowed her pride. At least the Moirai hadn’t permanently demoted her.

“Your wings are strong enough to carry us both?” Sanyare asked.

There was no malice in her tone, but questioning the strength of an angel’s wings was tantamount to calling them a fledgling. Apprentice Sanyare had no way to know Judith had been injured. Nor should she. Pride and anger bubbled to the surface once more.

“Of course.” Judith snapped out her wings, demonstrating their strength and speed. “I am a guardian second class.”

Pain lanced her shoulder in a brief, but memorable, protest, reminding her that she truly wasn’t at full strength. With a wince, she relented. A little. She had told the Moirai the truth when she’d said she couldn’t fly Rie to the headquarters. A slow glide was all she would be able to handle with that much extra weight.

“Besides, we don’t have to go far, just drift to the bottom. If you will stand still, I will grasp under your armpits and we’ll descend.”

“We’ll fly ourselves down. No offense.” The tiny winged companion shot through the sky, three others following close behind. Judith shook her head, amazed that yet another had completely escaped her notice. They were clever little mimics, she’d give them that.

Apprentice Sanyare, meanwhile, turned to face Judith, her arms held straight out to the sides. Judith moved behind her and hugged her tight, clasping her hands over Apprentice Sanyare’s chest. She was careful to keep her fists above the woman’s breastbone, crossing her hands and gripping her own wrists to secure her passenger. Sanyare brought her arms down, locking the hold in place.

“Are you ready?” Judith asked.

At Sanyare’s nod, Judith pushed forward with two steps, launching them off the island. Her wings snapped wide, catching the air and yanking against Judith’s back. Muscles screamed as they spun in tight descending circles, but Judith kept the movement under control. Losing her charge would be an unforgivable mistake.

CHAPTER FIVE

JUDITH HEAVED A sigh of relief as soon as they touched down. Her wings ached, her muscles shivered. She would be hard pressed to fly again until she’d had a proper recovery. She rolled her shoulders and shook out her feathers.

Meanwhile, Apprentice Sanyare stepped away from Judith’s embrace and stumbled, tripping over her own feet. Judith’s lips twitched. The woman looked like a fledgling angel, landing for the first time. She knew it could be disorienting.

However, unlike the youngsters, Sanyare was quick to recover. “Thank you,” she gasped, straightening.

Judith couldn’t help the chuckle. “You are welcome. Are you able to walk?”

Sanyare took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing and posture shifting to confident control. “Lead the way.”

The little female companion sped in from nowhere and landed on Sanyare’s shoulder. “Wings would be wasted on you,” she teased.

“Noted,” Sanyare replied.

Judith glanced at the woman out of the corner of her eye. She was shorter than the angel would have thought, given her ancestry, but then even Lord Garamaen wasn’t a huge man. No, Apprentice Sanyare was truly human in appearance, the only oddity her bright violet eyes. She’d never seen their like. Of course, her interaction with the humans was limited to their incorporeal forms, so the eye color could be relatively common. She didn’t think so, however.

The path to the Wasteland headquarters was easy enough to follow. Lined with stones and small boulders, safe passage was well-marked. The Moirai’s magic prevented the possession of a living body by a soul that passed through, so long as they remained between the stones. The city was similarly protected.

Judith glanced again at her guest. Apprentice Sanyare was the first to venture into the Daemon Realm for over a thousand years. Why was she here? What could she possibly want from the land of the dead? The questions swirled through her mind, but she didn’t dare ask them. The last thing she needed was another reprimand from the Moirai, or worse, an official demotion for interrogating a powerful diplomat without cause.

Instead, Judith turned her attention to her duty, and scanned the surroundings for possible threats. Not that there would be any. The daemon shepherds knew better than to bring the wicked souls through this valley at this time of year, when the Moirai were in residence at the Wasteland headquarters. The safe path had to be kept clear for the passage of any unprotected mortal bodies who had business in the fallen city. No reason to risk a frenzy. But it never hurt to be on guard.

A dust storm gathered on the horizon. Judith’s gaze sharpened. No, not a dust storm, a horde of wicked and damned souls, moving across the desert faster than the wind.

What were they doing?

Turn away, Judith called through thought-speech to the daemon shepherd driving the horde.

There was no response. The daemon and his charges continued on their journey, coming closer with every breath. Judith’s raptor-eyed gaze could see the daemon’s face, and the lazy manner in which he drove his horde.

“Turn away!” Judith shouted, using the screeching tones of the daemon tongue.

Apprentice Sanyare flinched, but the daemon’s head snapped up. Bulbous black eyes met Judith’s own gaze, and shock wrinkled his brow. Whatever purpose he had here, he knew he was in trouble. The realization was written across his expression.

The daemon grimaced a lipless baring of teeth, then snapped his flaming whip toward the front of the horde. The snarling, angry souls howled, but surged to the right, away from the path. They snapped at one another, filled with the negative emotions of hate and fear, their attention on each other, not on their surroundings. Judith blew out a relieved breath.

Too soon.

A soul near the edge of the group glanced back. His eyes focused on Sanyare, a grin splitting the ectoplasm of his scarred face. His form shifted. He veered back toward the path, speeding across the ground faster than seemed possible, his incorporeal body snapping behind him like a cape attached to his neck. He ignored the daemon’s whip, avoided the lashing flame. Chin lifted to the sky, he howled. The sound echoed off the distant cliff faces.

One by one, the rest of the horde turned, drawn toward the enticement of living bodies. They fell into a frenzy of gnashing teeth and hungry maws, and followed the rebel who broke ranks.

Stepping forward, Judith put Sanyare at her back. The blades the human carried might be formidable against the living, but they would do nothing against the dead. If the horde reached the path, she would be the first line of defense and the only active means of stopping them. The daemon was already too far behind.

The arachnia-daemon dropped onto three legs, his long spindly limbs pushing him forward at top speed while his whip continued to snap and crackle at his charges, trying in vain to turn them from their course. In his panic, the flame of his weapon seared through the souls at the rear of the horde, destroying some and mangling others. Rather than stopping them, all he managed to do was increase their fervor. They kept coming.

At this rate, they would reach the path in mere heartbeats. If the daemon couldn’t do his job, what was he doing in the valley, on his own? He should have had a more experienced trainer with him.

“Halt or be destroyed!” The daemon screamed. His voice was shrill and warbled in agitation.

He must be young. Very young.

The souls didn’t respond.

Lachesis had been right, Judith did need her sword. And this time, she wouldn’t hesitate. An attack on Sanyare was as much an emergency as the breach in the Hollows. The situation demanded immediate response.

Judith drew the great sword from its sheath on her waist. Her breathing sped. Adrenaline surged. She braced herself for battle.

“Stay behind me and stay on the path. The souls will do anything they can to push you off and claim your body as their own,” Judith warned. There were dozens of souls approaching, and only Judith’s blade to keep them at bay. Sanyare would be an easy target if the magic of the path didn’t protect her.

“Understood.” Sanyare’s tone never wavered. She drew her useless blades. Judith didn’t have time to explain. She only hoped the woman understood the danger and would listen to orders when she realized she couldn’t fight them.

The shepherd’s whip lashed out again and again, but nothing was going to stop them now.

The rebel soul at the head of the horde hesitated. Fell back. The others gleefully passed him in their rush to be the first to a living body. Judith shifted her weight into a stable fighting stance. She moved the great sword to the side, tip down, ready for the swing. She would not fail this time.

The first soul approached. Judith sliced up and high cutting the ectoplasm in two. The vaporous fabric of the soul sizzled and popped, burning away into nothing. A second and third took its place.

Judith swung again. And again. Back and forth, sawing through the wicked souls swarming the path. Wide swings cut through three or four souls at once. Sharp stabs pierced the center. Spin and swing, forward and back. Her sword achieved near perpetual motion. She became a creature of movement, thoughts focused on the next strike, and the strike after that.

Unlike her charge, Judith could step off the path without harm, but she couldn’t stray far. A few clever souls slipped around in a wide arc to come at Apprentice Sanyare from the other side. Wispy tendrils of vapor snaked toward the path at a speed that defied common laws of physics.

Meanwhile, Sanyare dodged and spun, attempting to use her blades on the attackers. She avoided Judith’s swings and stayed out of the way, but the knives did nothing against her foes. The pixies sped into the fray, but they were just as likely to be possessed as their human friend. Only the path protected them. And Judith’s sword.

With renewed determination, Judith circled around, keeping her feet dancing, the great sword moving. Her heart hurt for the eternal loss of these individuals, but she kept to her training. The souls could not be allowed to gain purchase in a body. Especially Sanyare’s body.

The souls were growing stronger, more frenetic. They wanted their prize. Judith’s best efforts couldn’t keep them away from Sanyare and her pixies. They shoved at Sanyare, pushing her this way and that, and finally sending the smaller woman to the ground. The pixies clung to her clothing, their defiant baring of teeth doing little to hide their panic. Sanyare rolled to her hands and knees, inches from the edge of the path.

Judith couldn’t get to her. She had been cut off by the horde, a wall of shadowy forms between them.

A whip lit with enchanted fire snapped to the rescue. The daemon shepherd had finally caught up, cutting through the souls’ attachments, and freeing Sanyare from their grip. He screamed an ear-piercing command to disperse. It did no good. The souls were in a frenzy, unable to hear or comprehend their danger. The lust for a body was too high.

Judith snarled a rare, but justified curse. An ineffectual daemon was almost worse than a horde without a shepherd. Whoever had signed his promotion papers must not have been in their right mind.

Meanwhile, Sanyare huddled on the ground, covering her head with her hands and protecting the pixies with her body. Judith approved. The souls wouldn’t be able to move her off the path in that position. They couldn’t lift her.

Cutting her way through the crowd, Judith stood over Sanyare. The daemon’s whip flashed again and again.

Finally, the emergency team arrived. Two more daemons, trained to subjugate a horde in chaos, snapped their whips at the attacking swarm. At last, Judith and the three daemons pushed the souls back and away from Sanyare, clearing the path.

“Get up and run!” Judith shouted in the common tongue.

Sanyare didn’t hesitate. Sheathing her useless blades, she sprinted toward the city. Judith ran close on her heels. A glance back showed the wicked soul who had instigated the attack watching them with narrowed eyes. He was a dangerous one. Judith wouldn’t forget that scarred and twisted face anytime soon.

CHAPTER SIX

APPRENTICE SANYARE CAME to an abrupt stop inside the gates of Wasteland headquarters. The woman bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath. Sweat and the stink of fear stuck to her skin, the aroma unpleasant to Judith’s sensitive nose, but understandable given everything that had just happened.

“That daemon is done,” Judith growled. “Those souls should never have gotten so out of control.”

This time it hadn’t been her fault. Not at all. She wouldn’t take the blame for putting Apprentice Sanyare in danger. But would they believe her?

The woman didn’t respond.

“Are you alright?” Judith asked after another few heartbeats. A woman with Sanyare’s apparent martial skill shouldn’t be so shaken. At least, she didn’t think so. Were the humans really so weak?

“Fine.” Apprentice Sanyare straightened, her posture quickly morphing from exhausted fear into calm confidence. Judith admired the change and wondered how the woman had learned to control her expression and posture so well. Judith knew her own face revealed far too much.

“Please accept my sincere apologies, Apprentice Sanyare,” Judith said. “If I had known there was a first level daemon guarding such a large flock near the path, I would have chosen a different route.” She would have tried, anyway. They had to have known what was going to happen. At least, Lachesis did. She’d warned her to carry her sword. So why did they put her in this situation? Was it some kind of test?

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” Sanyare replied. It was a generous sentiment. “And call me Rie.”

“As you wish, Rie. But nothing like that will happen again, I assure you.” What would they think, when they heard she’d almost lost their honored guest on the path?

“How much farther to the Moirai?” Sanyare’s voice was urgent, her tone demanding, though not aggressive.

Judith cocked her head to the side, wondering at the change. But no matter, her job was only to bring Sanyare to the Moirai. Protect her. Prove she could be trusted to perform under duress.

“This way.” Judith led the way down the cracked and broken sidewalks of the outer rings of the Wasteland headquarters, toward the rebuilt interior and the offices of the Wasteland administration.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Judith tried to explain. If Sanyare was asked what had happened, Judith wanted her to understand that she’d done everything in her power to protect her charge.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” she said. “The souls aren’t supposed to be anywhere near the path, and their shepherd must always be vigilant to ensure that none of the living are nearby. The daemon will be brought to trial and punished for his error.” She hoped she didn’t join him.

“It wasn’t a fun experience,” Sanyare replied, her tone even and relaxed now that the danger had passed and they were once again moving toward her purpose. “But it was a mistake, a simple error.”

Judith couldn’t let it go so easily. “It’s almost as if he was instructed to drive them toward the path. But the guardians have strict rules that would prevent such an action.”

“It’s not a big deal. Really,” Rie insisted. “Let’s just get to the Moirai as quickly as possible.”

“Of course.”

Judith was careful to avoid the worst areas of the fallen city, sections so broken even the low daemons preferred to keep their distance. Still, the outer regions were filled with broken cobbles and burned out husks of decaying buildings. A reminder of the worst-case scenario for the guardians and shepherds of the realm.

“What happened here?” Apprentice Sanyare asked.

“This was once a paradise island, but it sank into the Wastelands after the souls revolted and tried to break through the portal. We now use the city as a headquarters for the Wasteland shepherds.”

“But I need to see the Moirai.”

“Yes, they are here as well this time of year. They split their time.”

“Do the paradise guardians have their own city?”

“Of course.” Judith felt her eyes narrow. What did she think? That angels could survive on sunlight and kind thoughts? This was a job, like any other, and the residents of the Daemon Realm were no better or worse than the rest of the greater fae. “Just because we have wings doesn’t mean we aren’t living beings. We need to sleep and eat like anyone else.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Sanyare dipped her chin, apology in her eyes.

Judith hadn’t meant to snap at the woman, but her questions were—perhaps innocently—offensive. How could she possibly not know the basics of the life in the Daemon Realm? If she truly was Apprentice Sanyare, she was destined to become a mediator of the nine realms.

Soon, the bustle of the city center forced a slower pace and drew more questions.

“There are so many daemons,” Sanyare mused. “What do they all do?”

Judith rolled her eyes, exasperated. “It takes all kinds to manage the population of souls. Shepherds, reapers, selectors…the souls don’t manage themselves very well.”

“Apologies. Once again, I seem to have unintentionally offended you. Apparently, my education on the culture and history of the Daemon Realm is lacking.”

Judith couldn’t disagree.

“Could you explain the system here? I really don’t know much about how the Daemon Realm works.”

Judith’s shoulders dropped a fraction and she further slowed her pace. Could the woman be faulted for an incomplete education? She was human, after all. Why Sanyaro hadn’t taught his apprentice all she needed to know before sending her out on a quest was beyond Judith’s understanding, but it also wasn’t her business.

“It’s not terribly complicated. Each angel and each daemon has a job. We do our jobs, and the souls remain contained.”

“And the Moirai are your queens?”

Judith shook her head. “The Moirai weave the fates of fae and man. They don’t have time or energy to hold court. They’re more like bosses. They delegate tasks down the chain of command, and we follow their orders.”

“And you’re a guardian?”

“I’m a Paradise Guardian Level Two, to be precise,” Judith replied. “I’m training to be a Paradise Counselor.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

“In order to work directly with the souls in any of the Summerlands, you have to first be a Paradise Guardian. You watch the souls and make sure their needs are met. As a level one, I was responsible for maintaining the grounds of paradise.”

“Like gardening?”

“Yes. And building fixtures. Painting. That sort of thing. As a level two, I protect the souls in my care. When I reach level three, I will be able to choose a specific designation, and I will begin as an Apprentice Paradise Counselor. Ultimately, I would like to work with the souls of abused children, helping them overcome the trauma before they enter their next life.”

“That’s an honorable task.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Judith’s lips. She couldn’t wait to pursue the next stage of her training. She loved children and had been blessed to have a younger sibling whom she doted on. She couldn’t stand the thought of harm coming to any child, let alone intentional harm from another. The adults who betrayed their trust would be dealt with in the Wastelands, but the children needed more care.

“Children are innocent and always have a place in the Summerlands, but the broken and abused often have a hard time accepting that existence doesn’t have to be filled with pain. If they are to succeed in their next life, they must learn to let go of the trauma or they might find themselves in the Wastelands the next time around. If I had my way, we wouldn’t need the Wastelands, but there are always those unable to stay on the path of the righteous during their lives.”

“What happens to the souls in the Wastelands?”

Sanyare truly didn’t know anything about the Daemon Realm, or the afterlife. She was going to need to learn fast.

“When they return to life, they are given challenges. Some are born with disabilities they must overcome. Some are born into poverty or degradation. If they can overcome their challenges in life, they may move up to one of the Summerlands, but if they remain on the side of the wicked, they return to the Wastelands.”

“Is everyone given a second chance?” Sanyare asked.

Judith paused, her heart hurting. She wasn’t ready to face the final deaths caused by her own sword, and if Sanyare hadn’t noticed the destruction of the attacking souls, Judith wouldn’t be the one to point it out. But any soul in the Hollows—North or South—should have already had at least two lives. She could still answer honestly.

“I believe so, but it’s rumored there’s a cap on the number of lives any soul can have. I don’t know what that number is, though. It’s one of the secrets of the soul selectors.”

“So the selectors—“

“Choose which souls get to move to the next life, and when. Reapers claim the souls from their former bodies and bring them to the gates for sorting, Wasteland shepherds take the wicked across the Wastelands to the pits while paradise guardians take the righteous and the innocent to the Summerlands.”

“So, my soul will end up here, one day.”

“Most likely. You’re getting a rare view into the afterlife. Most people are turned away at the portal if they dare venture into our realm.” Judith sent Sanyare a pointed look. “I figure the Apprentice Sanyare should know this sort of stuff if she’s to do her job properly.”

“Probably. I haven’t been Apprentice Sanyare long enough to know the exact job description,” she said with a laugh.

“Following in Sanyaro’s footsteps must be difficult. He is the only elf I’m aware of that has full access anywhere, at any time, to search for the truth.”

“I think I’m finally beginning to understand that.”

“Well, here we are,” Judith pointed toward the glass-fronted administration building. It was the only edifice that had been completely refurbished after the fall, and it was the central hub of activity in the Wastelands. “The Wasteland office of the Moirai. I’ll announce you at the desk, but then you’re on your own.”

“I appreciate your assistance,” Rie said. “You’ve been a tremendous help and surprising source of information. And thank you for saving my life.”

“Not your life, just your body and soul.” Judith grinned. Sanyare was a nice girl, once you overlooked the ignorance and got to know her.

“Anyway, I owe you. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“It is my job, you owe nothing.”

Judith pulled open the door and ushered Sanyare to the front desk, relieved to be free of the responsibility. Ssierra would take it from here.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THREE DAYS LATER, Judith once again approached the administration building, trepidation burning in her heart with cold fire. She’d been called by Ssierra on behalf of the Moirai. She could only assume she was being brought in to answer for the events on the path.

“Judith, thank you for joining usss,” Ssierra said, rising sinuously from her position behind the front desk.

Judith thumped a hand over her heart. She couldn’t trust her words. This was it, the moment of truth. Would she remain in the choir of guardians, or be thrust out, never to fulfill her purpose?

“Follow me. Their ladyships are waiting.”

Judith swallowed, but followed Ssierra into the elevator and up to the Moirai’s office. Had she done everything in her power to prevent the incursion? She thought so, but maybe they believed she could have done more. The other guardians had blamed her for the explosion in the Hollows, could they also be placing blame for the incursion on the path? Maybe, if she’d been more vigilant, they could have waited for the souls to pass before venturing so close. But that would have delayed Apprentice Sanyare’s mission, which had seemed urgent.

It was too late now. She had done her duty to the best of her ability, and that’s exactly what she would tell the Moirai. If they didn’t believe her, there was little she could do about it.

Ssierra pushed the doors open to the chambers of the Moirai. “Your ladyships, Judith is here to ssee you.”

“Ah, good, good.” Clotho’s eyes never left the screen in front of her. “Come forward, dear. Lachesis, I need the next set of human souls.”

Atropos took up the conversation. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I have a hundred thousand queued up for you, sister,” Lachesis said, her fingers speeding across her keyboard.

Judith tried to ignore the continuing business and focus on Atropos’ question. “I assume I am called to answer for the incident in the Wastelands.”

“Yes. We need a witness account. The daemons have already debriefed. Now it’s your turn.”

Clotho interrupted. “Impending hospital bombing in the Human Realm. Thirty-seven souls will need to be recovered, and quickly. The trauma will fully detach all souls on impact.”

“On it. Reaper team six, head out.”

“Apologies,” Clotho returned to the conversation with Judith while Atropos’ fingers danced across the keys. “Please, tell us what happened.”

“In all honesty, I’m not sure, your ladyship. We were on the safe path. No souls should have been in the area. I believe the shepherd was careless, perhaps too inexperienced to understand the risks.”

“Do you believe he was intentionally in the area, or simply lost?” Atropos asked.

Judith considered. “It’s hard to say. I did not have an opportunity to speak with him.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You did the right thing, concentrating on Sanyare. She will be powerful,” Lachesis said, her tone dreamy and lost in the many futures of the nine realms. “A force for good, I believe.”

“Good, bad, semantics,” Atropos growled. “Her future is still to be determined. She has much to overcome.”

“Always the pessimist,” Clotho interrupted. “In any case, by all accounts you performed your duties admirably during Sanyare’s stay. Therefore, your temporary suspension is terminated. However, before you return to your duties as an active guardian, we have a special assignment for you.”

Judith frowned, her lips pressing together in a confused scowl. “Special assignment?” What did that even mean?

“This should never have happened,” Atropos growled.

“We must ensure our guests—however infrequent—are assured of their safety,” Clotho said.

“She will come again,” Lachesis said.

Clotho continued as if her sister hadn’t said a word. “We would like you to investigate what happened. Report back with your findings so we may make a judgment.”

Judith’s eyebrow twitched down in consternation. She wasn’t an investigator. She didn’t know the first thing about research. What was she supposed to do?

“I am only a second-level guardian. Surely there is someone more capable than I.”

“You already have half the story.”

Judith lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Lachesis pulled all souls from the nothing, Clotho could read their fates in the weave of her cloth…or computer, or something. And Atropos cut the threads of life. Surely they didn't need her insubstantial skills.

“Don’t you know the rest?”

Atropos’ eyes narrowed. “We have our suspicions.”

“No influence. That was what we agreed,” Lachesis said.

Clotho lifted a hand into the air to stop the argument. “Fair trial after fair investigation. Can’t set a bad example or create a precedent.” She turned back to Judith. “We want independent opinion. Can you remain unbiased?”

Could she? Judith wasn’t sure. Clearly a grave mistake had been made, and someone needed to be held accountable, but what if she got the wrong person? It was more responsibility than she’d ever taken on before.

“I don’t understand why you’ve chosen me for this task.”

“You don’t wish the responsibility? A chance to prove yourself after that terrible mistake in the Hollows? Perhaps even earn an apprenticeship?”

“You would promote me?” Relief and hope smoldered in her breast. Her lips fought to curl into a smile. She had feared reprisal, but instead she had the opportunity to advance.

“You’ve proven yourself honorable and intelligent. You acted quickly, without panicking. And you successfully defended a human against a horde of wicked souls. With the successful completion of this task, you will have proven without a doubt that you are ready to move beyond mere guard duty,” Clotho replied.

“Your trust honors me.” Judith thumped a hand across her chest. With a short bow from the neck, she accepted the task. Could she do it? She didn’t know for certain, but she wouldn’t waste this opportunity. Some rewards were worth the risk.

“Good. The shepherd has been put under restriction. He is waiting for you in his living space.”

The Moirai returned to their unending task, their thoughts once again focused on the souls requiring their guidance.

“Come,” Ssierra said from the doorway.

Taking the elevator up to the rooftop landing pad, Judith launched herself off the edge of the fifteen story building. Wind pulled through her hair and feathers as she dove. No need to walk and navigate the treacherous streets. Better to fly. Better to think.

The city around her was a reminder of what happened when things went wrong in the Daemon Realm, when souls revolted and guardians behaved counter to their purpose. An entire paradise island had fallen from the sky, its decaying carcass now used as the Wasteland headquarters of the Moirai.

The paradise headquarters were far more comfortable, more pleasing to the senses, but the Moirai insisted the administration remember the past. They wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, or the consequences would be extreme.

Which left Judith wondering at her task. Fair trial after fair investigation. That’s what Clotho had said. This would be a public demonstration. The Moirai would use this to make a point. The question was, who did they need to convince?

The daemon’s living quarters rose up out of the bleak gray landscape. The building was located on the outer ring of the habitable portion of the city, in an area that had been repaired but not completely wiped clean of the destruction. The four-story structure leaned slightly to the left, but the doors and windows had been rebuilt and repaired to house the living, instead of incorporeal souls. The Wasteland guardians had turned the structure into a barracks of a sort, to house the youngest of the daemon shepherds.

Ssierra had given Judith the name and domicile of the shepherd at fault for the break in protocol. Peruchar had only recently been promoted to level two, on the recommendation of a junior advisor.

Judith knocked on the daemon’s door.

“It’s open.” The voice was oddly high-pitched and nasal, but normal for a species that didn’t actually have a nose.

She pushed open the door.

Peruchar huddled on a floor pad, his body contorted in the way of his kind. His torso lay flat on the mat while spindly arms and legs bent at awkward angles, the equivalent of knee and elbow joints pointed high in the air. He looked a bit like an albino spider trying to hide from danger.

Peruchar’s lidless eyes glanced at Judith’s sword, which she wore sheathed but hanging from her belt. “Is it to be an execution, then?”

“No execution. I’ve been sent to find out what happened.”

“You were there. You saw.”

Judith cocked her head to the side. “So you remember me?”

“Of course. And the other woman. The human woman. I didn’t know the path would be used. No one has traveled to or from the portal in my lifetime.”

“Frequency doesn’t matter. The policy exists for a reason.”

The daemon frowned, rising up from his crouch to face Judith. “Yes. But the visit wasn’t on the schedule. Not mine, anyway.”

“Sanyaro and Apprentice Sanyare do not require appointments to visit the Moirai.”

The daemon sagged, what little composure he retained crumbling. “She was Apprentice Sanyare?” He squealed.

Judith simply nodded in response. Peruchar buried his face in his hands, the long thin fingers doing little to hide the anguish in his expression.

“I didn’t know. I was only doing what I was told.” He lifted his head, black bulbous eyes pleading with Judith to understand. “You have to believe me.”

“Tell me,” Judith commanded.

Peruchar hesitated for a beat, then scuttled around to sit in a cross-legged position. “It was on my schedule. I was instructed to move the horde from limbo to the Hollows.”

“Yes, but the valley is closed with the Moirai in residence at the fallen city. You’re supposed to use the mountain passes.”

“I have the schedule.” Peruchar stretched an arm out to a low table resting against the wall, sliding a wrinkled sheet of paper off the pile of waste that littered the surface. “I’ve checked and checked again. It specifically says to use the shortest route possible. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shoved the paper into Judith’s hands. She smoothed the smeared parchment as best she could, trying not to destroy the writing any more than already had been done. The greasy charcoal was still legible. Barely. But it proved Peruchar’s claims.

“Who gave you the order?” Judith asked.

“It was in my box.” Peruchar’s elbows twitched. The skin around his mouth pulled down. “I didn’t question it.”

“Who was your instructor? She should have taught you proper protocol.”

“Chauloru. This was my first week out of training.”

Judith’s eyebrows lifted, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “You didn’t have a supervisor with you?”

Peruchar shook his head.

The paradise guardians had months of training when they entered level two, followed by mentorship, and then supervised duties. To be running a horde solo was essentially the same as watching an entire paradise island by yourself. Only the most experienced level two guardians would be trusted with the job.

Yet here sat Peruchar, just out of training, being punished for a mistake he shouldn’t have even had the opportunity to make.

“Is Chauloru aware of your error?”

“I don’t know. The other shepherds grabbed me after we got the souls under control and into the Hollows. They took me to Asher, who suspended me from duty.”

“And your punishment was house arrest?”

“Pending trial. But I didn’t do anything wrong.” The daemon pleaded with Judith, his arms crossing over his body to squeeze his own shoulders.

It ruffled Judith’s feathers to see this young daemon so distressed. She had to work against her nature to force her wings to pull tight to her back when all she wanted to do was stand between him and his enemies. He shouldn’t have been put in this situation. He was too young, too inexperienced to be a level two, let alone herd a large group of wicked souls across the Wastelands by himself. Something had gone seriously wrong.

“I believe you,” Judith reassured Peruchar. “I will speak with Chauloru and the administration.”

Peruchar lifted his head, hope pulling up the corners of his thin white lips. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Judith nodded once. Turned. Thought better of it.

“One more question, who was the horde leader? The soul’s remembered face was scarred, and he turned the entire group back to the path despite your efforts.”

“I don’t know his designation, but he and most of that group were returned from the Human Realm after the veil breach.”

“So, he had made it through the gap?”

Peruchar nodded. “That’s why he and the others were assigned to Hollows South.”

He’d been judged irredeemable. Could this all have been a grave mistake? Coincidence and negligence?

“I’ll be back soon, one way or another.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAULORU’S OFFICE WAS bleak and barren, just gray walls and a gray floor scattered with black cushions. A filing cabinet stood in the corner, sharp black corners shining dully in the dim light. The daemon’s work desk—also black—sat low to the ground, a single stylus neatly centered on its surface.

If nothing else, the woman was organized. Unfortunately, she wasn’t present.

Judith stepped back out into the main hallway. Three more doors stood open, only one of the rooms occupied.

“Where is everyone?” Judith asked the man in the third room. He stood with his back to the door, focused on the piles of paperwork on his work table which spanned the entire length of the small room.

“Who’s asking?” The black-horned daemon didn’t bother to look up or turn around.

“Judith, on special assignment from the Moirai.”

The man glanced over his shoulder, with a quick, calculating gaze. Like the horns on his head, his skin was black and deeply ridged from upper lip to forehead, but his lower jaw and neck were white and smooth. The rest of his body was covered with a loose black tunic and breeches.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked. He didn’t appear keen to answer her questions directly.

“Chauloru.”

“Level four trainer. She’s probably in the field with a student.”

“How can I find her?” Having never met the woman, Judith wouldn’t be able to find her mental signature amongst the thousands of daemons in the area. She would prefer not to page everyone in search of an individual.

The man shrugged, turning back to his paperwork. “Her specialty is the shepherds of the condemned. You could try the Hollows.”

Judith grimaced. The last place she wanted to visit was the caverns of the wicked. Again. But it seemed the Hollows weren’t done with her yet.

Wings still weak, Judith took her time in flight. She let the hot air currents of the Wasteland deserts keep her aloft, gliding through the sky with as little effort as possible. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was weightless, adrift in the nothing. It was a peaceful change.

Approaching the Hollows, Judith sent out a short-range mental page for Chauloru. If the daemon was nearby, she should respond. Hopefully she wasn’t intruding on any others.

No answer came.

Judith sharpened her gaze. An odd-shaped grouping of shadows caught her attention. She narrowed her vision further. A daemon lay prone on the ground.

Chauloru? Judith queried.

No response.

Judith dove toward the ground, ignoring the screaming of her muscles. The daemon didn’t move. Landing hard, Judith closed her wings and ran to the woman’s side. The arachnia-daemon’s gangly limbs rested on the ground at awkward angles. Even more awkward than usual. Blood soaked the cloth wrapping her torso and the ground around her. No movement.

Judith placed a hand on the woman’s chest. The stuttering beat of the double heart was reassuring, but the shepherd’s immobility was not. Lifting the tunic from the woman’s waist, Judith found a long gash across the torso, still oozing blood.

Baruch! Judith screamed, sending her thoughts like an arrow toward the healer. It was a long distance, but she knew him well. He would hear her. She ripped the woman’s tunic and pressed the wad of cloth to the wound.

What is it? What has happened? Came the immediate response.

A daemon has fallen. Come quick. I don’t think she has much time.

On my way.

It would still take Baruch half a cycle to reach the Hollows. Fearing more harm if she moved the woman, Judith could do nothing but keep pressure on the wound. She saw no other obvious injuries, though a few bruises were already appearing on the pale skin of face and neck.

Judith couldn’t be sure of the daemon’s identity. She was a shepherd, the coiled whip of her trade laying silent and cold on the sand. Judith could perhaps assume it was Chauloru, but she didn’t know if she could trust the daemon at the Wasteland office, or if there might be others in the area. For all she knew, this was Chauloru’s apprentice, injured at Chauloru’s hand.

Judith’s gaze roamed the craggy sand and rock. Scattered smudges and prints circled the body. A spray of dark red across the light brown. She didn’t know what to make of it. All she could do was wait.

“Her soul is strong. She won’t succumb. Not yet, anyway.”

Judith whirled to face the speaker, but kept her hands pressed to Chauloru’s body. The souls of two women, unaged but ancient, gazed at her from twenty paces away. Their bodies were well-formed, their intelligence apparent. Slightly pointed ears suggested they weren’t human souls, but fae. They definitely weren’t Wasteland souls. So what were they doing here?

“You saw what happened?” Judith asked.

The woman on the left nodded. “The angel didn’t notice us, didn’t pay attention.”

“He probably assumed we belong amongst the wicked,” the woman on the right added.

“Who are you?”

“I am Una, and my sister is Nashota,” the woman on the left replied.

“Lord Garamaen Sanyaro’s children? The sisters who refuse to return to the living?”

“We are more necessary here. The living cannot soothe the minds of the condemned.”

“And you can?”

“We try. We’ve made progress with some of them. They have begun to see us as allies, instead of enemies, and that is the first step,” Una replied. “There could still be hope of redemption. But that isn’t what brings you here.”

“No, I came to find Chauloru.”

“You have.” Nashota crossed her arms over her chest. She was angry, but perhaps not at Judith.

“Tell me.”

Una tilted her head to the side. “You would take the word of a formless soul?”

“You are dead. You aren’t stupid or unreliable.”

Nashota lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“I need to know what happened. If you can help, I will take the information directly to the Moirai. They will know what to do.”

“They’ve lost control,” Nashota said.

“Not yet,” her sister replied, before returning her unfathomable gaze to Judith. “But there are new players in the game of fate, and new variables.”

“Such as?”

“The new heir to our father, Sanyaro, for one. She is powerful, though she hasn’t fully realized her potential,” Una replied.

“She’s still young,” Nashota added.

“Rie?”

“You’ve met her?”

“Yes. She’s the reason I’m here. She visited our realm about a moon past. During our trek from the portal to the Moirai, we were attacked by a horde of the wicked.”

Nashota’s eyes narrowed, an intense, calculating expression crossing her shadowy face. “Which horde?”

“It was a transport from the gates to the Hollows. I have the daemon’s orders here.” Judith held out the paper slip with Peruchar’s command on it.

Nashota turned to face her sister. “The veil jumpers.”

A concerned look passed between the sisters.

“You know this horde?”

Una held her sister’s gaze, ignoring Judith’s question. “It was a mistake. An accident. She can’t be held responsible.”

“What are you speaking of?” Judith asked.

A moment’s further pause, before Una finally turned back to the guardian. “At our father’s urging, Rie attempted to contact us through the veil. She used an anchor, but was unable to control the surge. She not only brought us through to the Human Realm, she tore the barrier and the wicked souls we were counseling escaped.”

“The breach in the veil…that was Apprentice Sanyare? And you?” Judith asked.

“Yes. But it was unintentional. She couldn’t control her power.”

Nashota crossed her arms over her chest. “Father should never have tested her without proper training. It was his fault.”

“And he corrected the error. We corralled the wicked and he returned them to the gates for processing,” Una replied.

Judith nodded her head, beginning to understand. “Which is why they were headed back to the Hollows. But Hollows South?”

“It would have been their last chance. Asher doesn’t grant mercy or exceptions.”

“Asher? What does he have to do with this?” Judith asked.

Nashota lifted an eyebrow. “He is the head sorter, is he not?”

Judith’s lips pressed together as she considered. Asher was in charge of the placement of Human Realm souls, but... “It still doesn’t explain why they were crossing the Wasteland path,” she said.

The rule was sacrosanct. The Moirai were in residence at the Wasteland headquarters. It didn’t matter where the souls were from or how they had been returned to the gates. They should have been held with the other condemned until the Moirai returned to paradise and the high road activated.

Una glanced at Nashota. At her sister’s nod, she waved a hand toward the cliffs and canyons that housed the Hollows. “The condemned in this place…though many are twisted and insane, many more do not deserve the unrelenting darkness.”

Judith glanced at the nearest cave entrance. One of Cerberus’ off-spring guarded the hole in the wall, the three-headed dog’s eyes shining out of the shadows. It might even be Cerberus himself. The souls contained inside had been categorized as irredeemable and needed the strongest containment.

“They are murderers, rapists, and child molesters. How can you say they don’t deserve their afterlife?”

“Some, yes. But there are also drug addicts, thieves, and multiple offenders of minor crimes. Only the perfect are allowed into paradise. And the Hollows grow full of souls without the possibility of another chance.”

Judith shook her head, denying the charge. “The paradise islands are designated resting places for the good souls of the worlds. The Wastelands are for the wicked.”

“What defines good versus wicked?” Nashota demanded. “How would you classify a thief who steals bread to feed his family? Or a drug addicted woman who sells her body for another taste?”

“They didn’t overcome the challenges set before them,” Judith replied, doubt in her voice.

“The human race is short-lived. Childhood is brief, and lessons are hard. An elf might have centuries to find a way out of poverty or prove his worth to society. Humans have decades.”

“If they improve on their situation, that is considered,” Judith argued.

“Is it? I think you should come with us, see the condemned who crowd the Hollows.”

“I cannot leave Chauloru here.”

“This is pointless. We have work to do,” Nashota interjected.

Flapping wings announced the arrival of Baruch and his partner. Una glanced at the sky, then returned her gaze to Judith’s face. She narrowed her eyes in critical speculation. “We will be here. Find us when you’re ready.”

Una and Nashota drifted away like fog on the wind as the healers landed in the dust and dirt. They rushed to Chauloru, unceremoniously shoving Judith out of the way and taking no notice of the sister souls’ departure.

You did the right thing, Baruch reassured through thought-speech without looking up from his task. Together, he and the other male healer rolled Chauloru onto her side so they could examine and bind the wounds to her torso. You kept the loss of blood to a minimum, and the damage contained.

I didn’t know what else to do, Judith replied. It was all I could think of, without moving her.

Good thing you didn’t.

Pleased at his praise, Judith remained nearby, despite the creeping desire to follow Una and Nashota into the Hollows.

Will she survive? Judith asked.

Her soul is still tightly bound to this body. She might recover, but there’s been a lot of damage. Help us get her back to the healers’ hall. We can talk more once we have her settled.

The arachnia-daemon’s limbs hung limp over the sides of the board that carried her body. While Baruch and his partner held the grips of the board, Judith did her best to keep her feet and arms from sliding too far in one direction or another.

They took her to the Wasteland healers’ hall. The only new construction in the entire Wasteland city, the two-story structure was all crisp lines and sanitized stone. Baruch had ranted to Judith more than once about its lack of privacy and patient comfort. That didn’t stop him from moving through the halls like he owned everything and everyone inside.

“Critical patient,” he informed the healers who rushed to their side as soon as they entered. “Unconscious. I need sutures, tincture of ginseng, devil’s claw root, and rosemary oil.”

The daemon healers raced to help, bringing the items back before Chauloru was even on the bed. They gathered around the patient, their hands moving with quick precision. Knives and bandages were handed from one to another. Judith watched the oddly choreographed medical dance in fascination. She’d never had the opportunity to see Baruch or the healers in action. At least, not for anything as severe as Chauloru’s wounds. For the first time, she truly appreciated the skill involved in healing the living.

Finally, Baruch stepped away from the bed. He rubbed his hands on a towel, leaving a red streak on the pristine white cloth.

“How is she?” Judith asked.

“If she wakes within three cycles, she should survive. The bigger question is whether or how her brain will recover.”

Judith blew out a breath. “So she won’t be able to talk?” She was going to need Chauloru to tell everyone what happened. To convince them that Judith hadn’t been the attacker.

“I don’t know. But the tincture of ginseng works quickly. Brain function has already improved, and the inflammation is down as well. She could fully recover.” He paused, grim-faced. “Or, she might not.”

What he didn’t say, that he didn’t need to say, was that if her soul fled this body it would immediately be taken back to the nothing. Guardians and shepherds didn’t have a right to reincarnation. They might live forever, but if they died, they died forever, too.

Baruch’s steely gaze narrowed in on her face. “What were you doing out at the Hollows again? And what happened to her? It looks like someone attacked her with a sword. I pray that wasn’t you.”

“Of course not,” Judith snapped. “I don’t know what happened.” She’d never gotten the story out of the sisters. Obviously, they hadn’t been the ones to strike down Chauloru, but someone had. And they had seen it.

Baruch tipped his chin down, scrutinizing her expression. “Thousands of years without major incidences, then, all of a sudden, souls are breaching the veil and attacking visitors. And you’re involved in everything.”

“You know me.” Judith swallowed. If even Baruch questioned her actions and motives, how was she going to prove her innocence and abilities to the rest of the guardians? He was her friend, perhaps her only friend. She had to try to explain. “I went out there looking for her. I needed to ask her something about one of the apprentices who was recently promoted.”

“The one who let the horde attack Sanyare?” Baruch asked, insightful as ever.

“Yes.” No use in denying it. “What have you heard?”

“Only what everyone else has. A daemon led a horde across the Wasteland path when it should have been restricted, and Apprentice Sanyare was nearly overcome. Peruchar was the shepherd, you were Sanyare’s escort. Is there more to know?”

Judith didn’t answer. She didn’t have a good response. Not yet.

“I will return later. I need to speak with Chauloru.”

“We still need to find out who attacked her.”

“My sword is clean.”

“I believe you.” Grim-faced, Baruch set his jaw before speaking his next careful words. “But for your sake, I hope you can prove it.”

“I’ll find out who was at fault.” Judith glanced once more at the resting form of Chauloru. She looked peaceful in her sleep, her chest rising and falling in regular rhythm. Judith would find out who did this; not for her own sake, but to make sure whoever was at fault paid the price for their betrayal.

“I’ll return before the end of the cycle.”

CHAPTER NINE

A LOW GROWL reverberated through Judith’s bones as she touched down in the sand outside of the Hollows. Cerberus’ offspring—she couldn’t remember this one’s name—clearly wasn’t fond of visitors.

“Hush now,” Judith murmured to the three-headed beast. “I’m here to speak with the sisters.”

The dog didn’t quiet.

“Una and Nashota are inside. You’ve given them access to your charges. I only wish to speak with them.”

Lips pulled back to reveal three sets of slathering fangs. Judith would prefer not to be mauled.

“Una! Nashota!” Judith called into the cavern entrance. The dog snapped its teeth at her. Was it female or male? Irrelevant. “Una! I need to speak with you!”

The sister souls wafted from the caverns in a slow trickle. The beast let them pass without question. Who had trained the thing? It didn’t seem like its priorities were correct.

“You’ve returned.” Una said.

“She only just realized we never told her what happened to the shepherd,” Nashota replied.

“Who attacked her?” Judith asked.

“Come inside with us. Meet the souls Asher has condemned to an eternity of darkness.”

“They’re going to think I hurt her. I saved her. Tell me what happened.”

“Or what?” Nashota demanded. “You’ll pull your sword from its sheath? Send us to the nothing like the rest of the souls who attempted to breach the veil?”

“Of course not!” Judith cried. She hated the death of a soul. It burned her to her core. If she could, she would leave her sword at home each day, but the truth was, circumstances sometimes called for it. Like the Wasteland path. “The sword is a tool. Not a threat.”

“Tell that to the rest of your kind,” Nashota replied.

“She’s unlike the others,” Una smiled. “She listened to the voice of the souls, and she asks us for help now. Come,” she held out a hand to Judith in invitation. “See the truth for yourself.”

Una drifted back toward the cavern, her sister close behind. As soon as Judith rose from her seat, the hellhound growled again.

“I don’t think he’ll let me pass,” Judith said, lifting her hands in a show of peace.

“Shh.” Una passed a hand along the dog’s fur. The dog closed all four of its eyes in obvious pleasure. One of the tongues lolled out the side of its mouth.

Judith’s jaw dropped. “How did you do that? He shouldn’t succumb to the touch of a soul like that. He’s supposed to be keeping them contained.”

Una grinned over her shoulder. “She is a peaceful creature. She knows the truth and her purpose. And she knows we’re here to help those we can. She won’t harm you, now. You’re with us.”

The dog’s left head dropped to rest on its paws, while the right scratched its ear. Her ear. Obvious, now.

Sliding past the three-headed dog, Judith kept her hands raised in surrender. Ten eyes gazed at her in amusement.

“Not a dog person?” Nashota asked.

“Never had a pet of any kind. Never wanted one, if I’m honest.”

A series of disapproving growls rolled around the cave. Pulling her attention away from the beast at her feet, Judith looked up to find four more of the hellhounds lying on pillows scattered around the rocky space. Hollows South was well guarded.

“They’re not pets,” Nashota replied, as if that wasn’t already clear.

“I only meant that I don’t have any experience with animals of any kind, let alone fierce protectors of the Daemon Realm and its residents.”

“Come. Let’s go. There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Una interrupted.

Traversing the rocky hall wasn’t easy. The souls of the sisters could glide and shift to accommodate the contours of the rock, and Cereberus’ offspring were clearly comfortable in the small dark spaces of the cavern, but Judith tripped over every stone and bounced off every craggy surface. Not to mention that she couldn’t see where she was going. She would have more bruises at the end of this walk than she’d had after the battle in Hollows North.

At first nearly imperceptible, Judith’s ears began to buzz. A low murmur, like the sound of an insect hive, grew louder and more insistent with each step.

“What is that noise?”

“You’ll see, soon enough,” Nashota replied.

Judith grimaced. The noise was becoming almost unbearable. The endless cacophony invaded her brain, made her want to turn around and leave. She couldn’t hear her own thoughts, even as she became aware that the sound was voices in the distance. Illogical words and ramblings, an occasional shout or scream, one ear-piercing banshee’s cry that might have once again destroyed Judith’s eardrums if the stone walls hadn’t muffled the force of the sound.

“Are we nearly there?” Judith shouted after several minutes of total blackness and disorienting noise. Her fingers slid along the wall, her only guide to the direction of travel, until her hand rushed out into empty air. The space in front of her blew with a cold breeze.

“There’s a torch hanging on the wall to your right, and a flint on the floor beneath,” Una replied.

Judith patted her hand along the stone until she found the promised tools, then lit the blaze.

She gasped.

Crowded before her was a swirling mass of souls. Clumped together like strands of spun sugar, and moving with the rhythm of a great ocean, the souls of Hollows South were countless. Incomprehensible. They filled the room beyond the light of the flame, remembered bodies occasionally jumping, as if to break away from the morass and get a brief moment of respite. Shadowed forms spread out into the blackness

“Welcome to Hollows South,” Nashota said dryly.

CHAPTER TEN

MOUTHS OPEN WIDE in hungry yet silent screams, the souls nearest the cavern entrance lunged toward the warmth of Judith’s living body. Quick as thought, Nashota built a staff of her own essence and twirled it in front of surge, pushing them back toward the crowd. A low growl reverberated from the throat of one of the hounds. Judith hadn’t even had time to react.

“There are so many of them,” Judith whispered.

“Millions. More. They are the condemned of this realm, the lost. They’ve been sentenced to an eternity of cold dark. They won’t even be granted the mercy of the nothing.”

It was true. Unless there was a direct threat to the realm of the living, the souls of the dead would be contained but not destroyed. It was meant to provide insurance that the negative energy of the wicked wouldn’t be reabsorbed into the nothing, that any new souls would be born of positive energy and the negative would be removed from the system.

However, given the sheer numbers in this one cavern, Judith wasn’t sure it was working. She watched the surging mass. With every breath, more souls noticed her presence. Even the aura of a protected Guardian was enough to draw them in. Nashota’s staff never stopped moving, the spinning weapon a limited barrier for the throng.

“Why are they pursuing me?”

“You are the first living body to enter this cavern in at least a thousand years, though more and more souls are added every year. The cavern grows thick with their essence. The condemned are given no chance at rehabilitation.”

“And these are the souls you’ve chosen to work with.”

“We became aware of the situation shortly after our own deaths. Our brother, Takoda, was sent to the Wastelands,” Una replied.

“A child of Sanyaro shouldn’t have been condemned.”

“Nevertheless, he was sorted into a horde. We found him, rescued him. We made sure he received a chance at a second life,” Nashota said.

“But there were others. Humans who had done little to deserve an eternity of endless motion and flaming whips, their very essence slowly whittled away. If they weren’t selected for rebirth within a century, it was unlikely they ever would be, and with every passing year, less and less of their core essence remained. The negative would take over until they became what the sorters expected: base creatures focused on their own desires.”

“Worse, if they returned to the sorting after a second life without ‘moral improvement’, they would be assigned to a lower horde.”

“We traced one soul, who was sorted into the Wastelands after her first life for petty theft and disobedience. Her second life was borne into poverty and abuse, and ended at seventeen, when she was killed by her own father for refusing to marry an older, wealthy man. In judgement, it was revealed she’d stolen some food as a child. The soul sorter at the gate determined she hadn’t learned her lesson and she was placed in Hollows North.”

“Just two chances before condemnation,” Nashota added.

“That can’t be true.” Judith wouldn’t believe such a harsh judgment.

“After a thousand years in Hollows North, she was moved here to clear the way for newer souls. Would you like to speak with her?”

Una gestured to the swirling mass before Judith had a chance to respond. A soul slid forward from the horde, her face a shrunken parody of a beauty that once had been. Nashota let her pass. Mouth gaping open and closed like a dying fish, the soul yet held a kernel of intelligence in its eyes. She stared at Judith, hungry, but managing to maintain control and keep more than an arm’s length distance between them.

“What is your name?” Judith asked, unsure of what was expected of her.

“Mary,” the soul breathed, her voice like wind through the autumn Elysian fields.

“How many lives were you granted?”

“Two.”

“How do I know she’s telling the truth?” Judith asked, studying the translucent form. The soul’s body had become little more than a thin fabric that wafted through the air. Judith could see right through her. Yet the swirling crowd behind her was as opaque as the walls surrounding them. There had to be billions of souls crammed together to gain that obscurity.

“Trust us. We verified with the keepers.”

“How did you gain access to the hall of records? You’re souls.”

“Does it matter?” Nashota demanded, her staff pushing back another clump of clawing, fading souls. “This woman is wasting away, being absorbed by the negative energy of the Hollows. It’s a punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Even the nothing is better than this.”

Judith didn’t know what to do, what to think. A guardian’s mandate was to protect and rehabilitate. To preserve and improve. If the story could be believed, this woman hadn’t been given a fair chance. Only the privileged would have even a shred of opportunity to rest in paradise.

Another soul darted out of the mass, one Judith recognized. His remembered face scarred and twisted in a manic grin, the soul sent arrows of plasma shooting toward Judith. She unsheathed her sword in a single motion, swinging it around in an arc. Mary shrieked and fell back, her unblinking eyes wide with fear.

Nashota jumped between Judith and the male, her staff spinning in a complicated maneuver that allowed no room for the soul to pass. The change in position allowed the horde to surround Judith and the cave entrance on three sides. The dogs’ harsh snarls echoed from the darkness behind her.

“Who are you?” Judith demanded, keeping her sword out and ready. Cruel intelligence stared at her out of incorporeal eyes.

“I am dead, but not for long.” The soul’s hoarse voice sent chills down Judith’s spine. The dogs’ growls grew deeper and more insistent.

“Get back.” Nashota pushed her left hand behind her, forcing Judith into the mouth of the cavern, even as she continued to spin the staff in her right hand. “This one truly deserves his fate.”

The soul grinned. “I had a taste of her. Your Sanyare. She knows me now, and I know her. It won’t be long.”

The horde crowded close, writhing against the barrier that was Nashota’s staff and Una’s daggers. Judith’s own blade remained unused. That could change at any moment.

“What won’t be long?” Judith asked. She shifted her grip on the hilt of the sword, her hands slippery with adrenaline sweat. Her heart rate sped.

“I’ll have a body soon. Her body is powerful. Much to desire.”

Cerberus’s offspring growled and snapped their teeth. They lunged at the mob. One woman didn’t get out of the way fast enough, her soul shredded to the nothing. The dogs pushed the souls back into the cavern, keeping them contained, as was their job.

They were severely outnumbered. The only advantage they truly had was that the cave entrance was narrow. It pinched the horde together as they pushed to find a way out of the darkness and into the warmth. Two of the multi-headed dogs guarded the path, while the rest fanned forward in an arc around Judith, Una, and Nashota.

With the scent of living flesh on the air, more and more souls were drawn to the cavern entrance. They surged forward from the back, their brethren in the front forced to confront the hell hounds. One by one they fell, the dogs tearing into plasma and returning the souls to the nothing. But more souls took their place, always more pushed forward. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

The dogs were losing ground. The crushing weight of fear, neglect, and agony leeched off the incorporeal forms of the condemned.

A wispy tendril of plasma threaded between the dogs. Like a striking snake, the length snapped forward, aimed at Judith’s leather-clad leg. Without thinking, her sword arced down. Cut through the thread.

She didn’t notice the next incoming thread until it was too late. The tentacles snapped forward, the needle-like appendage pierced Judith wrist. Electricity surged down her arm, ejecting the plasma before it had a chance to fully latch into her system. Bringing her sword around for another swing, Judith severed the wicked soul, then thrust into the core of its being. The soul dispersed back into the nothing.

“We can’t let them pass,” Una shouted into the chaos of growling dogs and screaming banshees. Souls lunged and hissed, doing everything they could to get around the sisters and make an attempt on Judith’s living form.

The hellhounds circled around Judith and the sisters, tearing into the souls that gathered too close to the cavern entrance. The scarred man stayed out of the way. He avoided Cerberus’ offspring as easily as if they were nothing more than slow-moving tortoises crossing the path. He laughed, the sound like gravel rolling down a mountain.

“If this is the best defense against us, the horde will break free. It’s only a matter of time.”

Without turning around, he faded back into the crowd, his gaze never leaving Judith’s face.

As he withdrew, more souls surged forward, meeting their end in the teeth and venom of the dogs.

“Go,” Nashota shouted. “Too many have noticed you. We’ll hold them back.”

Judith sheathed her blade, turned and leapt toward the entrance of the cave.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE WAY OUT took even longer to travel than the way in. At least, it felt that way. Like the oil she used to polish her armor, the negative energy of the horde clung to her in greasy tendrils.

Finally, a crack of sunlight broke through the darkness. Just one more turn, and she knew she would be out of the cavern. The thought propelled her forward, directly into the arms of Asher.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded before Judith had a chance to right herself. His grip on her arms was fierce, bruising. He glared into her face as if he were debating whether or not to hit her.

Judith straightened and stepped back out of range. Without thinking, her hand dropped to the hilt of her sword.

“I should be asking you the same,” she said.

The muscles in Asher’s cheek twitched, and his lips pulled tight. He mirrored her position. “I’m doing my job.”

“Since when do you make live visits?” Asher was a level three sorter, not a shepherd. Once the souls were assigned, his job was over.

Asher ignored the question. “You don’t belong here.”

Judith wasn’t going to argue with him. She’d gotten most of what she needed from Una and Nashota, though she still had more questions than answers. She needed to speak with Chauloru, and hoped the daemon was awake.

Asher stepped to one side, his hand still poised over the hilt of his sword. He gazed at her with heavy-lidded eyes, waiting for her to move away.

“Why are you here, Asher?” Judith asked.

“After the breach, I need an accurate inventory of the souls in the Hollows.”

“You can’t count them. They’re innumerable.”

Asher circled around to the side, but Judith kept him in sight, her body positioned to defend, if necessary.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Una and Nashota are valuable resources. I’ve learned much from them.”

“The sisters who waste their afterlives on the futile attempt to rehabilitate the condemned? There is no saving these wretched humans.”

“They stand strong against the negative energy.”

“They should be condemned alongside those they wish to save. Damned fools. They serve no greater good than their own narcissism.”

“Do you speak of the sisters? Or their charges?” Judith challenged.

“They’ve chosen this task, no one has officially put them in charge of the Hollows. And they’ve had no success at rehabilitating the wicked. Yet they remain in the Hollows to make a name for themselves and pretend to do good. The souls here should be left buried.” Asher turned and paced the other direction.

Judith’s grip tightened on her sword hilt’s leather wrap. She kept her body between Asher and the cavern. It was the mission of every guardian to protect the souls in the Daemon Realm. Or it should be. Pure or condemned, they were all a part of creation.

“You sound frighteningly close to subversion,” Judith murmured.

“Is it subversive to want more from this life than never-ending duty? Is it disloyal to believe that the humans don’t deserve the lives they’re given, that they waste them on frivolous occupations and immorality?”

Asher’s voice rose. He threw a hand toward the opening to Hollows South. “Why should they be given life after life, when we face an endless existence of duty followed by the nothing?”

Asher grabbed a fistful of his dusty brown hair, yanking the tidy strands into disarray. The whites of his eyes shone bright around the dark brown iris while he shook his head in denial.

“Those souls never should have escaped. It shouldn’t have been possible.”

Judith’s thoughts whirled. Could she talk him down out of this crazed state? Talk some sense into him? She hadn’t had any formal training, but she had sat in with the soul counselors on a few occasions. The process couldn’t be too much different for an angel.

“You’ve been hard at work since the breach, haven’t you.” Judith set her voice into a soothing cadence. She took her hands away from her weapons. Asher’s gaze traced her movements.

“Judith!” Una shouted from the cavern entrance. Her timing couldn’t have been worse.

Asher spun, facing the remembered form of Garamaen’s child.

“You.” Asher’s sword was suddenly in hand, his wings raised in dominance. “This ends now.”

He rushed forward, enchanted sword raised to strike down the soul and send her into the nothing. Una changed form, twisting out of the way as the weapon arced through the air. Judith jumped into the fray, blocking Asher’s next swing with her own great sword. Metal clashed against metal, the vibrations running up through the sword and into Judith’s arm.

“Get out of the way, or you’ll end up like that useless shepherd.” Asher stepped back, pulling his sword into a waist-high ready stance. “It’s time to finish what I started.”

“You attacked Chauloru?” Judith asked, mouth agape.

“She stood in the way. As do you. Leave now, and forget you ever saw the Hollows.”

“I can’t let you harm them,” Judith replied. “Or anyone. They have as much right to exist as you or I. Their choices are their own.”

“The Hollows can’t be saved. They won’t be saved. Move.”

“I will not.” Judith planted her feet firmly in the sand, stretching her wings out behind her for balance and to block access to the cavern.

Asher lunged forward. His sword stabbed toward her. Judith twisted. Brought her own sword up to block. Stumbled back as Asher’s weight slammed into her.

Flapping her wings, Judith regained her balance. She pushed Asher back and kept her body between him and the cavern.

Asher’s wings drew together in a great downbeat, lifting him into the air. Grit and sand blew into Judith’s eyes. She blinked furiously to clear her sight. Asher’s heavy body rammed into her side. Still unable to see, Judith spun, whipping her wings around to bludgeon Asher. She bit back a scream as the muscles pulled against her back. She couldn’t let a little pain stop her.

Eyes finally clear, Judith let her blade follow her wings. Asher blocked the strike, but failed to anticipate the second spin. He reeled back with a grunt.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said, the words slipping from between clenched teeth. “Human society is filled with pain and sin, their vices so common they don’t even recognize them anymore. The commandments have long been forgotten.”

“You’re blind, Asher. You fail to see the good.” Judith still hoped she could reason with him, though in her heart she knew the time for discussion was long past. “And the endless expansion of the Hollows will only end in disaster.”

“Impossible. I’ve done my duty. The wicked are punished, the righteous—few though they may be—are rewarded. This is the afterlife. This is what they signed up for.”

Asher backwinged off the ground yet again. This time, Judith was prepared. The dust and sand failed to distract her. Asher lunged forward. It could have been a fatal strike, if the element of surprise hadn’t already been wasted. Instead, with a great heave of her wings, Judith jumped up, tucking her feet to let the blade slide beneath her.

It was time to go. Touching down only long enough to push herself forward in an explosive lunge, Judith sliced her sword toward Asher’s shoulder. He avoided the strike with a deft backbend, but Judith kept moving. Her wings beat down, pushing her higher from the desert floor. Her foot connected with Asher’s chin as she sailed overhead.

Asher’s back hit the ground. Judith flapped her wings again, gaining further height. In a ground battle, the other angels always had the advantage. They were bigger, stronger, their arms and legs longer. But Judith had the advantage in the air. Or, she would if she weren’t already injured. Even still, she had a better chance of beating Asher off the ground than on.

Of course, Asher gave chase. Judith stayed just out of reach.

“The souls signed up for nothing. They are borne of the nothing and can only return to the nothing by achieving full enlightenment. It is our job to help them get there.” Judith said. Maybe if she got him talking, he wouldn’t realize they were actually flying away from the cavern.

“Who was the last soul to achieve enlightenment? How many are capable of the necessary self-sacrifice? Perhaps one a generation?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Judith argued. “You must give them a chance to fulfill their true nature.”

“I see the same souls come back, lifetime after lifetime, learning nothing, making the same mistakes again and again. I know who has the potential and who doesn’t.”

Asher picked up the pace, attempting to flank Judith, to corral her back to the ground. Judith skipped a beat, letting her wings pause. Asher shot past as she dropped ten lengths in an instant.

“So you condemn on gut instinct? In anticipation of a negative cycle?” Judith taunted. “You think you are Lachesis, with the skill to know a soul’s core fiber? Or Atropos, to decide when to cut their thread?”

Asher performed a tight roll, his wings tucking tight to his side as he dove after Judith. “The Moirai struggle to maintain even a semblance of order anymore. Chaos is about to be unleashed, and they have no idea.”

Judith beat her wings in the air, positioning herself above Asher and in line with the sun. The other angel turned, his gaze searching. In that moment of hesitation, Judith dove. Arms extended in front of her, she rammed Asher in the sensitive spot where wing and shoulder meet.

Asher’s left wing went limp. He careened to the side, out of control. Judith kicked his right wing as it passed, further damaging his flight pattern as he fell to the earth. Asher grunted, his face contorted with pain but also determination as he fought to bring his wings around and catch the air current. Righting himself at the last possible moment, he managed a landing on the desert floor.

He wouldn’t stay down long.

Judith beat her wings against the sky. Muscles burned in protest, tendons popped and shifted with effort. But she had to get there first, had to tell the Moirai of Asher’s betrayal and attempted murder.

She glanced over her shoulder. Asher had regained the air, his stronger, healthier wings giving him the edge in speed. Just twenty lengths away and closing.

Clenching her jaw in determination, Judith set her sights on the Wasteland city. She could make it. She would make it. There was no other choice.

CHAPTER TWELVE

JUDITH LANDED HARD on the angel’s ledge outside the office of the Moirai, her feet already running across the hard stone floor of the hall. No time for the niceties. Protocol be damned. Asher was heartbeats behind her.

Throwing her shoulder into the double doors of the office, Judith plunged into the room. The doors gave way much easier than she had expected, but her wings lifted to keep her balance. Barely.

Gasping for air, she faced the Moirai.

“Asher,” she breathed, her voice hoarse.

“Welcome back, Judith.” Clotho didn’t even look up from her screen. None of them did.

“Half a bell earlier than expected,” Lachesis murmured.

“I know what happened on the path.” Judith’s words came out in a hurry. She only had moments before Asher arrived.

“Of course you do, dear. We never had a doubt.”

“Why did we need to go through this farce again?” Atropos asked. Her fingers flew across her keyboard, the tapping sound blurring together into a steady buzz.

“To prove a point.”

The doors slammed open. Asher strode through with purpose, his posture confident, the smirk on his face belying the depth of his ego.

“Once again, Judith has made a grave error. A mortal error.”

Judith’s brow furrowed. What angle was he trying to play? How could he possibly pin any of this on her?

“She is incapable of rational thought, her emotions run too high to allow logic to prevail,” he continued.

What in all the Wastelands was he talking about?

“Explain,” Atropos demanded. For once, she looked up from her computer screen with narrowed skeptical eyes.

Asher stood, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread wide in a powerful stance. His wings lifted and lowered with each breath he took, but he appeared entirely at ease.

Unlike Judith, who would have run and hidden under a rock if she could have found one big enough in the room.

“I found her in the Wastelands, conversing with the souls of the wicked in Hollows South. She nearly caused a riot, a few even chased her out into the daylight.”

None of the souls had chased her out, the hell hounds would have stopped them if they’d tried.

“It’s true I was at Hollows South, but I was speaking with Una and Nashota, the daughters of Sanyaro. They are not condemned.”

Atropos’ fingers danced across the keys. “No, they are not.” Her voice, hoarse and discordant, seemed to stop Asher in his tracks. He shifted to face her, his arms tense against his body.

“The sisters have refused reincarnation. They’ve chosen an existence outside of the circle to better help the wicked find their way back to the light,” Clotho added.

“Impossible. The Hollows are irredeemable. I should know.”

“So you should. But do you?” Lachesis asked, then quickly changed the subject. “Clotho, I have another thousand greater fae ready for your distribution.”

“A thousand? Too much.”

Lachesis shrugged. “I think you’ll need them sooner rather than later.”

“Impossible to argue with you. In any case, what did the sisters have to say?” Clotho turned her impenetrable gaze onto Judith.

Swallowing down a lump of nerves, Judith straightened her spine. This was her task, they had asked her to uncover the truth of what happened. Now was the time to share, no matter that Asher would be implicated while standing in the room. She needed to voice her facts, and her suspicions.

“Una and Nashota have been ignored too long,” Judith began, the words wavering with a subtle vibrato she hoped no one else could hear. “The Hollows are filled to the brim with millions, perhaps billions of souls, and more arrive each day, thanks to Asher.”

“The humans fall to their own sins. I am not to blame for the wickedness of the Human Realm.” Asher defended.

“Many of the souls in the Hollows are there for petty crimes, small things, often even justifiable sins.”

“If they cannot learn from their mistakes, they should not be kept in paradise to corrupt those few who have chosen the path of righteousness and honor.”

“The incident on the Wasteland path was an accident. Peruchar had been ordered to take the souls recovered from the breach in Hollows North to Hollows South via the shortest possible path. Too new and inexperienced, he didn’t question the orders. Any other day, his mistake wouldn’t even have been noticed. The order bore a stamp, but no signature.”

“Then it wasn’t a legal order,” Asher interrupted again.

“Asher, do be quiet,” Lachesis reprimanded.

Judith pursed her lips together to avoid laughing out loud. The mild-mannered and dreamy Lachesis wasn’t typically the sister to provide discipline.

When she’d collected herself, Judith continued. “I still need to speak with Chauloru about what happened outside of Hollows South, but my instinct says she was trying to uncover the truth, same as me. Una and Nashota indicated that they watched as she was attacked, and the attacker was Asher.”

“The word of the dead can’t be trusted,” Asher argued.

“The word of Una and Nashota can be,” Judith insisted. “But, as soon as Chauloru wakes up, we’ll know the truth for certain.”

“Chauloru is alive?” For the first time, uncertainty entered into Asher’s tone. A nervous tremble worked at his lips. The muscles of his arms flexed against his chest.

Judith gave the other angel a grim nod. “In critical condition, but she lives. Baruch believes she will wake up soon.”

“Not possible. But even if she does wake up, she has a head injury. Her memories can’t be trusted.”

“Oh? And how do you know?” Judith asked. If she could get him to admit something here, in front of the Moirai, her job would be done.

“Yes, Asher. It’s your turn to speak, not that you seem to feel the need for permission,” Clotho said. “Why is it that so many can’t be trusted, but you can?”

At that moment, Ssierra opened the doors and slithered in to bow before the Moirai.

“Chauloru is awake. She insisted on coming.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAULORU CREPT INTO the room, her spindly arms helping to pull her body through the door as her double-jointed legs dragged behind her. More than ever, the arachnia-daemon looked like her namesake spider. Even the skin of her face seemed to shrink back against her skull, her wide lidless black eyes gaping while she heaved panting breaths.

She was in bad shape.

Four healers, including Baruch, flanked her on either side. When one of them tried to help her balance, she shook him away with a guttural hiss.

Baruch’s gaze met Judith’s over Chauloru’s heavily bandaged body. Judith lifted a brow in question, but Baruch just shook his head. Whatever had happened in the healers’ hall, he couldn’t say anything here, now. It was Chauloru’s turn to speak.

“You,” she hissed in a screech of daemon-speech, her gaze arrowing in on Asher. “How dare you. You pompous cloud-hopper. Self-appointed holy rancor. You agent of Chaos—”

“So you confirm that it was Asher who injured you?” Clotho interrupted the string of curses.

“How dare you call me an agent of Chaos,” Asher interjected.

“You tried to murder me, to send my soul back to the nothing!” Chauloru paused, gasping for breath. “You style yourself a paragon of virtue, a judge of purist morality, and yet you would commit a deed more foul than most you condemn; a murder in cold blood.”

Asher pursed his lips. His gaze darted around the room landing on each of the Moirai in turn, then falling on Judith, before returning his attention to his accuser.

“Calm down,” Baruch soothed. “Your body must have time to heal.”

Chauloru ignored him. “He did this to me. He tried to end me, the sanctimonious seraph. And for what?”

“That is an excellent question,” Atropos growled. Dark eyes turned their focus on the accused. “What purpose could an angel have to attempt the murder of a daemon?”

“I didn’t want to end her.”

“So you admit to attacking her?”

“She sought to undo my work, to undermine my judgments. The souls were destined for Hollows South. She should not have interfered.”

“You fill Hollows South beyond capacity, thinking nothing of the souls who waste away in perpetual darkness, or the cost of pulling new souls from the nothing,” Chauloru accused. “Those souls should have been returned to the North and given a chance at redemption.”

“Redemption? They escaped their proscribed judgment! They fled into the Human Realm at the first opportunity. That is tantamount to betrayal, and yet another sin to weigh on their soul. Hollows South was a just punishment.”

Judith had had enough of his diatribe. “Then why assign an inexperienced daemon to take them through the valley instead of the mountain pass? Why not follow protocol?” Judith demanded. “There are reasons we have laws. You could have caused the death of Apprentice Sanyare with that choice.”

“That is what he does,” Chauloru growled, leaning forward to spit at Asher’s feet. “He sends the young who don’t know any better, who don’t have the will or power to question.”

Judith couldn’t believe he would be so stupid. He was older than she was, more experienced and higher in the choir. He should have understood there would be consequences for his choices.

“Have you ever considered what would happen if the Hollows collapsed? What would happen if the entirety of the wicked broke free to roam this realm and spread out across all the nine?” Judith asked.

Asher crossed his arms over his chest, his expression growing cold and defensive. “That is not my concern. I can only judge the lives they have lived. They do not deserve mercy.”

Judith curled her lip in disdain. There wasn’t a shred of compassion in Asher’s soul. He would likely justify his merciless condemnation of the human race to the ends of his days, bitter and jealous of their multiple lives.

“But it is your concern,” Clotho said. “We must maintain a balance, provide succor and relief, not just punishment and reward. That way lies disaster.”

“I am fulfilling my duties.”

“It is not enough to do your duty,” Atropos snapped.

“We are all responsible for our actions, and for the continued success of our mission,” Clotho added.

“A never-ending cycle of sin and strife?” Asher snapped.

“You fail to see the hope and opportunity.” Clotho’s voice remained steady and calm. She didn’t rise to his temper. “We are integral to the cycle of mortality throughout the nine realms. Without us, there would be no order. Chaos would walk the realms once more. But if you choose to stand outside of the circle, we can arrange other duties for you. Perhaps a simple task, something more suited to meditation and peace.”

Lachesis nodded. “Yes, that will do nicely. His soul requires less stress.”

“I am happy in my place.” Asher’s voice dropped an octave as his shoulders tensed. He saw what was coming. They all did.

Judith waited for the final judgment with baited breath. If there was any justice in the nine realms, he would be thrown from the choir permanently.

“Asher, from this point forward, you will be the sole portal guardian, responsible for the entry and egress of any and all mortal visitors to the Daemon Realm.”

“You would demote me?”

Judith frowned. It hardly seemed fitting, though she wouldn’t say that in front of the three sisters of fate. Her relatively minor transgression at the breach, a mere hesitation, had earned her essentially the same punishment. True, it had only been a suspension, not a permanent demotion, and she’d been tasked to escort Apprentice Sanyare, not just guard the portal, but her mistake had been an accident, whereas his had been premeditated disobedience.

“I will not waste my life and my time at the gate, twiddling my thumbs and doing nothing.” Asher’s voice rose, anger and frustration getting the best of him.

Then again, maybe the punishment did fit the crime if he was reacting so strongly. His pride would be his undoing.

“I think you might be surprised at your responsibilities,” Lachesis said, her gaze focused out into space. “But your soul will be happier with more rest. Nature can be soothing.”

Asher’s hand dropped to his sword. “This is ludicrous. I’m not an idiot trainee. I’m a guardian level three.”

Judith’s own hand gripped the hilt of her weapon. A quick step to the side, and she was in position to defend the Moirai if necessary. At the same instant, Ssierra darted forward, her body coiled for the strike. Asher wouldn’t get far.

“Not anymore,” Clotho replied.

“Rethink that hand on your sword,” Atropos added. Her gaze had narrowed, her hands resting palm down on the desk in front of her. For the first time, Judith noticed the ancient knives beneath her fingers. The weapons were truly the tools of Atropos’ craft. They could be wielded as a pair to cut through the soulstrings like shears and bring a life to a close. As knives, they would end the body and the soul. The eldest sister of the Moirai was more dangerous than anyone else in the room.

Asher’s chest rose and fell as he struggled to restrain himself. Three breaths, four, and finally he removed his hand from the hilt of his weapon.

“Good choice,” Atropos said with toneless calm. She didn’t move a muscle.

Chauloru staggered forward two more steps. “That hardly seems a fitting punishment for attempted murder. He should be sent to waste away in the Hollows with the souls he’s condemned. Forced to live with his mistakes.”

Judith winced. Chauloru gave voice to Judith’s own thoughts, but it wouldn’t end well for the daemon, she was sure.

“He’ll have plenty of time to consider the error of his ways at the portal, free from Chaos’ influence.” Clotho replied.

“Too much time spent surrounded by the negative emotions will foster hate. We must surround him with peace and love, rejuvenate his spirit,” Lachesis murmured.

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Atropos growled. “But I’ve been overruled.”

“So you would actively work to rehabilitate a murderous immortal, but not the mortal souls who have been condemned to waste away in darkness and fear?” Judith asked, the words blurting from her mouth without thought.

“What would you do, send them all to paradise?” Asher sneered.

Judith pinched her lips closed. She hadn’t meant to say anything. Hadn’t meant to interject. But if punishment wasn’t the answer, why did the Hollows even exist? Luckily, Clotho didn’t seem to take offense to Judith’s words.

“Ssierra, could you please remove Asher from our presence? He is no longer needed here,” she said. “The healers can go with you and wait for Chauloru at your desk. She’ll be fine with us for now.”

She waited until the doors closed behind the group before turning back to Judith and Chauloru.

“Judith has touched on a sore spot between the three of us. A long-running debate that has never been resolved to any of our satisfaction.”

A sore spot? As far as Judith knew, the Moirai never disagreed. They were the all-seeing all-knowing protectors of the afterlife and defenders of the natural order.

“The Hollows were designed to prevent the truly wicked—the sociopaths and psychopaths who won’t ever see the value in another living being—from returning to the general population,” Clotho continued. “But they’ve become overused, a punishment for lesser crimes in a world with, quite frankly, too many sentient beings in it.”

“The Human Realm is going the way of the elves’ Origin,” Atropos said.

“I argued against it from the start,” Lachesis chimed in, her fingers flying across the keys. “By the way, Clotho, your next thousand are prepared for transfer.”

“Already?” Clotho rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but her fingers tapped their perpetual rhythm. “Thank you.” She turned back to Judith and Chauloru. “So now we need to decide what to do with you two.”

Judith stiffened. “Do with us?”

Clotho murmured an assent, but leaned toward Atropos. “Are the reapers prepared for the bombing in the middle east?”

“Of course. Such a waste.” Atropos pursed her lips and shook her head.

“We do our best,” Clotho replied, quietly. Momentarily lifting her gaze from her computer screen, Clotho glanced back and forth between Chauloru and Judith.

“Chauloru, you have a strong sense of justice and knowledge of the inner workings of the Wastelands. You’ve trained the young shepherds, and done your job well, this recent incident notwithstanding.”

“Thank you, your ladyship.”

“Don’t thank us yet. You’re going to have a challenging job ahead of you. We’re tasking you with the retraining of the sorters. Once you have fully recovered, you will lead a team to find a solution for the wicked placed in the overcrowded Hollows. With Una and Nashota as advisors, you will develop a plan to reduce their population and rehabilitate those who can be saved, while ensuring the recently deceased are properly sorted amongst our current housing options.”

Chauloru’s eyes widened farther than Judith thought possible, but the daemon lowered her body to the ground in what she assumed was an arachnia-daemon equivalent of a bow.

“That is a great responsibility,” Chauloru replied, “but seems like more than one person can handle.”

“Yes, of course. You’ll have help,” Clotho said.

Lachesis nodded in agreement. “The lost must be found.”

“Once trained as a level three counselor, Judith will join the rehabilitation team.”

Judith’s eyes grew wide. “What?” She felt like a fool, completely blindsided by the new position.

“Judith, you have proven a compassion that is wasted in the ranks of level two,” Clotho smiled, her thin lips drawn tight over her teeth.

“She needs better judgment,” Atropos growled.

“That will come in time,” Clotho replied.

Lachesis—gaze trained on a distant point no one else could see—began to speak.

“Warrior, counselor, truth seeker, quest taker. The road ahead is fraught with danger and distress. More will die before the end, more returned to the nothing. All skills will be needed.”

Lachesis shook her head, suddenly focused intently on Judith. “You must begin training immediately.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A WEEK LATER, Judith sat cross-legged in one of the training rooms at the hall of learning. Soft foam mats covered the floor, and a mirror lined one side of the room. In her level one training, Judith had used this room for hand-to-hand physical combat practice, but this was a level three course designed to teach interaction with wicked human souls.

“The soul may use whatever means necessary to resist the words of the counselor, but the counselor may only use words to soothe and calm the frustrated soul,” the seminar leader said. Tirzah was a soft-spoken woman with an inner core of steel that was obvious as soon as she began working with the souls in her care. Ivory wings speckled with darker gray matched her softly curled hair. “You must stay in this room and cannot draw weapons. Any physical exchanges must be modeled after a soul’s behavior: no grappling, but pushing and striking are allowed. Just try not to actually hurt one another.”

Tirzah glanced around the room. There were only four other guardians in attendance, but Judith didn’t know any of them yet.

“If everyone understands the premise, let’s begin. Judith, you will play our first soul.”

Judith’s stomach twisted. She clenched and released her hands to stop their trembling, but kept her voice steady and calm. “Yes, ma’am.”

It was her first day in the confrontation chamber. The others had been studying these skills for moons—perhaps annuals—already. She swallowed, then stood.

“I understand you’ve had some contact with wicked souls already, so I won’t give any further instruction on behaviors. Just use what you know and react to the guardian accordingly.”

Judith dipped her chin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hosea, as our most experienced guardian in this class, you’ll play the counselor to Judith’s troubled soul. Be prepared for the unexpected.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hosea stood and faced Judith. A thin man with a narrow face and soft lips, Hosea nonetheless exuded confidence.

Judith shook out her wings and shoulders. Hosea simply stared at her with a calm expression. She closed her eyes, tried to find and access the deep emotions, bring forward the negative energies that would represent the wicked souls.

When she opened her eyes, she found Hosea sitting on the floor in a calm, meditative pose. He watched her movements and examined her expression with an intent focus that emphasized the tranquility of his own demeanor.

She wouldn’t be drawn into his peace. She was a wicked soul now, destined for the Hollows. All she wanted was a chance at a body, a connection to the realms of the living.

Judith paced closer to Hosea. She cocked her head to the side.

“Welcome,” Hosea said. “Come sit with me awhile.”

His voice was resonant and soothing, his expression peaceful. His body was still. He almost drew her in.

Judith thought through the events at the hollows. How would Mary have reacted to Hosea? Or the scarred man?

Judith narrowed her eyes, her lips pulling up into a wide grin. She lowered her head down and forward between her shoulders and snapped her teeth at Hosea. A gasp from one of the other guardians and Judith knew she was on the right track.

“What would be the point?” she asked, pacing a circle around the sitting guardian who remained calm and composed despite her theatrics.

“Don’t you desire a moment of peace? A breath of rest?”

“What rest can I have? You’ve condemned my soul to the Wastelands, forever to wander bodiless and unfulfilled.”

“It was not my choice, not my actions that brought you here.”

“No?” Judith’s thoughts sped through everything she’d seen in the last three weeks. “Do you think I chose to be here?” Judith pushed Hosea’s shoulder with a toe, using just enough force to jostle him.

“Your living actions condemned you, but your afterlife is not fixed. Come and sit, find your calm.”

“Calm? What calm? There is no peace in the Wastelands. Forever moving, lashed by the whips of the daemons. You think you can calm me with a few kind words?”

Judith shoved him harder, pushing Hosea off-balance. The other guardian remained composed, returning to his meditative position.

“I do not deserve this wretched existence. One day I’ll be free.”

“You could be free. Return your thoughts and emotions to the positive, focus on the good, and you might earn another life in a new body.”

“Earn a new life? Have you ever lived in squalor? Have you dealt with even a moment’s suffering?”

Judith’s thoughts whirled, her breathing sped. Suddenly, she understood so much more about these human souls and their motivations. Their drives.

Judith bent over, putting her face a finger’s-width from Hosea’s cheek. She bared her teeth at his indulgent smile and was rewarded seeing a trace of panic in his eyes.

“You give us sixty, eighty, at most a hundred years in the living world,” she whispered into his ear, just loud enough for the others to hear. “We are born without memory, fumbling in the ignorant dark to find our purpose. We are given no guidance, no indication of what we’re supposed to learn or how we’re supposed to use the short time we’re given. Then when death comes, you judge us based on an incomplete history, giving no room for mistakes or minor misdeeds.”

Judith placed both hands on Hosea’s shoulders, and shoved him as hard as she could, toppling him to the ground. She crouched over top of him, her hands on her knees as she leaned forward to growl into his face.

“You want me to repent? You want me to find peace? Perhaps first, you should consider asking me for forgiveness.”

Clapping pulled Judith out of her role and back into the real-world.

“Well done. What a performance. That, my dears, was very close to the real thing.”

Judith glanced over at the three observing counselor trainees. Their eyes showed white around dark, dilated pupils. A tear streaked another woman’s face, and one of the men seemed to have trouble breathing.

Level one and level two guardians had little direct contact with souls, and those they served were amongst the deserving in paradise. If they did see the wicked, it was in the capacity of emergency control, like the breach in the Hollows, but they wouldn’t have the time or the inclination to speak with them. No, Judith’s experiences with the Hollows and with the soul Mary were unique.

She would need to remember that.

Tirzah gave a single clap, then rubbed her hands together. “I had another role-playing scenario in mind, but I think we had better take a meal break. Please return in one cycle.”

The guardians quickly moved to stand in a line, then pounded a fist against their chests with a small bow before departing the training room.

None of the other angels would meet Judith’s gaze. Even Hosea skirted away when she tried to intercept and thank him.

Judith’s heart sank. She wasn’t making any friends amongst the other trainees.

Angel Judith, Apprentice Sanyare requests your presence at the portal. Asher’s voice rang with disdain.

What could Sanyare possibly want?

I will be there as soon as I can, but I must ask for leave to depart the training hall. Please ask her to wait at the bench. Judith replied.

She already sits at the bench as if she owns the island.

Judith rolled her eyes at the discomposed voice in her head, but instead of responding, she sought out her trainer.

Tirzah, may I speak with you?

Of course, came the instant reply.

In person?

I am in the observation lounge on the second floor. You may meet me here. There is no one else in the room.

Relieved that she didn’t need to explain her reasons for a private audience, Judith hurried up the stone block stairs to the observation lounge overlooking the central training grounds. Arranged in a rough oval, the training grounds consisted of a three-story brick building on the short side that connected to the rest of the training hall, and a ten-foot stone-block fence that surrounded the rest of the grounds. The space was used for physical training and drills. Today, squads of ten guardians practiced small-unit combat maneuvers.

Judith was pleased to see Eliphaz leading one of the squads. He had been a squad mate in Judith’s own level one and level two choir, then promoted to level three about four annuals ago. She had been pleased for him at the time, even more so now, seeing him successfully guide his squad through a complicated aerial technique that involved sequential dive runs timed with less than a wing’s length between individuals.

“What can I do for you, Judith?” Tirzah asked, drawing Judith’s attention away from the field and toward a corner shaded from the heat of the late summer sun. She sat on a stool, her expression curious.

Judith bowed with a thump to her chest, then stood with her hands tucked behind her back, beneath her wings.

“I have been called to the gate. Apprentice Sanyare has requested a meeting.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I request permission to leave the training grounds to go to the portal.”

“Of course. Your breaks are your own. But try to be back before the end of the cycle.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Judith turned to go.

“And Judith?”

Judith looked back over her shoulder.

“Good work today. For a first role, your portrayal of the wicked was eerily accurate.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

“Don’t let the others’ reactions bother you. When they face their first real-life interaction, they will appreciate your skill.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

So, she’d noticed the trainees’ reactions. At least Judith wasn’t imagining things.

“Go on, then. But don’t be late.”

Judith gave one more bow, then launched out of the observation deck. Gods, it felt good to be back to near-full strength. She flew a circle around the training grounds, enjoying the return to flight and giving Eliphaz a quick wave as he lectured his squad. Then she pushed her wings to their fastest speed toward the portal island.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JUDITH LANDED AT the portal island with a backwing of dust and debris. Asher stood like a living statue at the gate, his arms crossed and his lips pressed into a scowl. Judith ignored him in favor of the woman on the bench.

“Rie, you’ve returned,” Judith said with a thump to her chest. “What brings you here again?”

That she had specifically requested an audience with Judith was both an honor and a surprise. She didn’t know what she could offer Apprentice Sanyare.

“I need to speak with you. In private.” Rie glanced toward Asher, her expression troubled.

Was the next truthseeker reaching out to Judith for counsel? Did she trust the guardian to keep her secrets? Eager nerves trembled in Judith’s core, but she tried to keep her voice calm and level.

“Walk with me.”

Judith strode down the portal road, toward the edge of the island, Rie at her shoulder. When they were out of earshot of Asher, Judith turned to ask what Rie needed, but the woman beat her to the start.

“We have to stop this war,” Rie began, her tone fervent. “Othin and Thanûr are taking advantage of Sanyaro’s weakness. They will claim the Human Realm and destroy the Shadow Realm. Millions of humans and lesser fae will suffer for the egos and power struggles of the kings. We can’t let that happen.”

Judith’s eyes opened wide. This was not the conversation she had expected, not at all. She wasn’t a warrior, and the Daemon Realm had always been a neutral party in the disputes of the other races.

“I understand your dilemma, but this isn’t my fight,” Judith replied. “Ssierra was the tribunal representative. You should talk to her, convince her to side with you.”

Besides, the Daemon Realm had enough problems of its own. If the wicked souls of the Hollows weren’t dealt with soon, they would certainly escape the confines of the cavern. They nearly had after just seeing Judith in their midst. If the hellhounds hadn’t been vigilant…Judith shuddered.

Rie shook her head, turning slightly to the side in frustration. “She didn’t listen to me at the tribunal, so I doubt she’ll listen now. But you know me, at least a little. And I know you. You value life and want to work with troubled souls. I believe you would prefer to avoid unnecessary death and despair.”

“Of course. But I can’t go against the will of the Moirai on a whim. I’ve just begun my training as a counselor. I would lose everything.”

Rie’s gaze shot to Judith’s face. “You’ve been promoted?” she asked.

Judith couldn’t help the broad grin. It was still so new, so fragile. She’d hardly had time to process the move to level three, despite the daily training of the last week.

“I finally proved my dedication and worth. Which is why I can’t risk it all, now.”

Rie’s shoulders slumped. She exhaled and rubbed a hand across her face. Judith gave her a few heart beats to think in peace. Eventually, she seemed to gather herself for a response.

“I understand,” Rie turned back to face Judith. “The purpose of the Guardians is to maintain peace and order in the Daemon Realm, to soothe the souls of righteous and punish the souls of the wicked.”

“Not punish, rehabilitate.” That would be a firm teaching point for all levels going forward. The Moirai had promised an increase in the number of counselors—both guardians and shepherds—to bring souls from the Hollows back into the general population. Judith’s class of four was just the first in the new series of trainees.

“Rehabilitate. But it’s also your mandate to make sure the souls remain here, to keep them from swarming the other realms, overwhelming the bodies of the living, and claiming those bodies for their own. Correct?”

Judith frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. Where was this going? What scheme was Apprentice Sanyare building? If she took after her notorious great-great-great-grandfather, it would be devious and shape the way of the future.

“Good,” Rie continued, not waiting for an affirmation. “Then be prepared with as many Guardians as you can muster. When the battle happens, you will be needed.”

“What are you planning?”

“Don’t worry about it yet. Just be ready. I’ll give you the excuse you need to join our cause and save thousands, maybe even millions, of lives.”

The flight back to the training hall sped past in a whirl of confusion and distraction. What was Rie planning that required guardian forces? Should Judith report Apprentice Sanyare’s words to the Moirai, or at least reach out to Ssierra? Should she do as Rie asked, and find warriors who might join this faerie war? Was she, Judith, a warrior or a counselor?

As she approached the central training grounds, Judith once again spotted Eliphaz and his squad of level ones in the field. They were sheathing their weapons and moving off to let another group in for training.

Judith hurried to catch her former squad-mate before he disappeared into the hall.

Eliphaz, wait! she called as she dove toward the ground.

The pale blonde angel with bright white wings glanced up at the sky. Judith! How are you?

Good. Great, in fact. Judith’s feet touched the field and she strode forward, meeting Eliphaz halfway. She looked up into the face of the much taller angel.

“I heard you made it into level three counselor training,” Eliphaz said as he thumped his fist on his chest. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. I’m excited at the prospect of working directly with souls. But you look like you’re doing well, already leading your own combat squad.”

Eliphaz’s lip twisted up in a crooked but proud smile. He glanced over his shoulder at the retreating backs of his level one guardians. “They’re doing well. Young, all of them, but eager and hardworking. They’ll make great guardians.”

“Are they all interested in the combat choir?”

“I’m not sure most have settled on a designation, yet. Their goals are still flexible, their desires unfixed.”

“But they’re strong warriors?”

Eliphaz cocked his head toward Judith with a quizzical expression. “Where is this going?”

Judith bit her lip, unsure how much information to share, yet knowing Eliphaz was her best bet at finding warrior allies to aid Rie, if needed.

“You weren’t at the Hollows breach, were you?” Judith didn’t remember seeing him, but she couldn’t be sure.

“No, I was with my squad in flight training, out beyond the fae islands.”

“But you heard about it?”

“Of course. Who hasn’t?”

“What most don’t know is that Apprentice Sanyare pulled the souls of Una and Nashota through the veil, and accidentally created the breach. Then, she came to speak with the Moirai a few moons ago, and the same horde of wicked souls attacked her on the path through the Wastelands.”

“So, she’s made a connection to these souls?”

“It seems that way. I just returned from the portal island and now she’s asking for help to stop the fae kings from marching on the Human Realm. I’m afraid she’s going to use her connection to draw the wicked souls through the veil and force our hand.”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t aid her cause? It would help maintain the natural order, avoid a massive influx of souls severed in war.”

“Yes, but is it what the Moirai want? We’ve always maintained a strict neutrality, never entering into the mortal conflicts.”

“True, but if the souls of the dead are involved, it’s our duty to maintain order.”

Judith considered. In a sense, he was right. “If we enter this war, we can’t just focus on the souls. We will have to take sides.”

“You’ve always had a compassionate heart. What does it tell you now?”

Judith sighed. “I don’t know. But if the souls are pulled through the veil, the results could be disastrous.”

“So, we go. We assess the field of battle. And then we do what we can.”

“You’ll help me?”

Eliphaz grinned, white teeth sparkling in the sun. “Sounds fun.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

NOT EVEN A day later, and the alarm sounded.

All available guardians and shepherds, alert, alert! A breach has opened in Hollows South! Repeat, a breach has opened in Hollows South. Make haste!

This was it. Rie had opened a breach, had begun the battle. Judith raced to strap on her armor: a molded leather chest-plate covered in bright silver chain, thick leather leggings, and heavy knee-high boots. With her sword on her hip, she was as prepared for physical combat as she could be.

Pushing her wings to their greatest possible speed, Judith was among the first to arrive at the cavern entrance. Sliding to a stop in the dirt and gravel outside the cave, Judith scanned the incoming flight of angels.

Eliphaz was there, grim determination set in his expression. His squad flew in tight formation behind him. They landed together, and Eliphaz strode toward Judith.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

Judith shrugged. “We have to convince Michael not to shut down the breach completely, but to let us through to the Human Realm.”

“Are you sure that’s where this breach leads?”

“Yes.” Judith blew out a breath. “Rie asked for help to protect the Human Realm. The wicked souls will be drawn to the battlefield.”

Judith looked over Eliphaz’s shoulder, locking her sight on Michael. It was now or never. There would be no time for discussion once they entered the cavern. She had to convince Michael before the flight entered the battle.

Setting her shoulders, Judith approached the greatest of the guardians and general of the combat forces.

Golden skinned, with dark hair and pure white wings that gleamed with pearlescent highlights in the sun, Michael’s looks alone were enough to intimidate. Add in the polished silver armor and crested helm he carried under a heavily muscled arm, and even the strongest of enemies would hesitate to contest his strength. Certainly, none of the angels would challenge his authority.

Yet here Judith stood, about to assert her own plan into his efforts.

“Michael, before we enter the Hollows, I have information you need for the battle,” she began, her voice barely carrying over the noise of clanking armor and landing angels.

Michael turned to face her. “Yes?”

“This breach has been opened by Apprentice Sanyare. She has called for allies to protect the Human Realm against incursion by the faerie realms.”

“And?”

“I request permission to cross the veil with a squad of guardians, gather the souls that have already crossed, and return those we can find to the gates. We can’t let them spread unchecked throughout the realms.”

“And what of Apprentice Sanyare’s request?”

Judith clenched her teeth. She still didn’t know how she felt about Sanyare or her need for allies. She wasn’t convinced the guardians should take sides. But she would do what she could to limit the loss of life. As Eliphaz had said, an influx of new souls as a result of another Great War could be devastating with the recent disruptions in the Hollows.

After a pause to think, Judith finally answered. “I believe we must assess the battlefield to determine the best course of action. It is not in our best interest to allow the elves to invade the Human Realm. The influx of souls as a result of war and enslavement could prove devastating when our forces are already stretched thin.”

“I see.”

Michael’s expressionless face revealed nothing of his opinions or strategy. Unsure of her position, Judith continued her argument.

“We must staunch the flow of souls leaving the Daemon Realm, but we must also prevent them from possessing the mortals on the battlefield. There is no time to waste.”

“Agreed.” Michael lifted his gaze out over the assembled flight. “Who will go with Judith, to find and return the lost souls in this battle between the realms?”

A grumbling erupted amongst the angels, until Eliphaz stepped forward.

“My squad is prepared to assist.”

“And mine,” another voice called out.

“I’ll go,” a man said.

A few more voices, and a force of nearly three dozen warriors assembled.

“We will keep the breach open as long as possible without letting more souls through, but you’ll need to hurry to return them to the Hollows. If we can’t keep them contained, we’ll have to close the connection. You’ll need to return through the main portal when your battle is won,” Michael said.

“Understood.”

He laid a hand on Judith’s shoulder. “Protect the humans. Maintain order. That is your mission.”

“Yes, sir.”

The thin grey split in the fabric of space-time hovered over the mass of wicked souls in the Hollows. The breach flashed with electricity and pulsed with the energy of the woman who controlled it. Larger than the first breach in Hollows North, the gap seemed to expand with each breath.

“She is strong, to be able to hold that connection,” Eliphaz murmured at Judith’s side. “Are you sure she needs our aid?”

“She would not have called the souls unless she did. She knows the touch of possession, has experienced the force of their influence. Regardless, we can’t let the lost souls swarm the Human Realm.”

Michael motioned the flight forward. “Surround the breach!” he shouted over the groaning of the wicked souls attempting to cross the veil.

Judith, Eliphaz, and the rest of the guardians who would be crossing into the Human Realm dashed forward, slicing a path through the souls of the Hollows to reach the breach. Michael himself interlaced his fingers to give Judith a launching pad toward the gap. With a single push, she was airborne and through the veil.

Disoriented and shaky, Judith fought off the urge to vomit and flapped her wings in the dry air of the Human Realm. Not so different from the landscape of the Wastelands. Judith scanned the red-rock terrain to find Apprentice Sanyare.

Though the air above was relatively warm, the ground below was rimed with frost. Gold armored warriors shuffled across an unnatural river turned to ice. Half-clothed tattooed men ranged around the canyon, blasting fireballs at their black-clad dark elf enemies or raining down a hail of fiery arrows.

The souls of the dead and dying cried out for relief. Bodies pierced with arrows, or exsanguinated, or sliced with blades that left blood and entrails scattered across the battlefield…the sight was enough to make the strongest of angels question their role. She couldn’t see the reapers who worked in the between to bring the souls through the veil to the gates of the Daemon Realm for judgment, but their work was evident as soulstrings were severed and silenced.

Lightning crackled across the sky. A second breach opened.

By all the gods, what was Sanyare doing? How could she believe this destruction was justified? Bringing wicked souls from the Hollows to the Human Realm could only end in more death, more trauma. She couldn’t see him, but she knew in her heart that Chaos walked these canyons with a grin on his face today.

A banshee screamed, her voice echoing off the cliff-faces surrounding the battlefield. The white misty horde of lost souls drifted out across the canyon, intent on the high elves and frost sidhe that marched across the frozen river. A woman in gold screamed, panic lacing her wordless cry.

Judith’s raptor-eyed gaze focused and zoomed on the woman. A soul had latched on, was wriggling its way into the unprotected body.

Judith turned for the dive, but she was still too far away. Too late. She could do nothing but watch, horrified, as the soul took possession. Between one heartbeat and the next, the woman’s scrabbling hands stilled, her posture shifted, and she turned away from the battle. Another volley of arrows obscured Judith’s view and she lost sight of the possessed body in the mess of the canyon floor.

The dark elves, meanwhile, had gathered around the leaders of their forces, including Apprentice Sanyare and her partner, Prince Daenor. Though she’d never met the man, Judith could identify him by the fire magic in his dark elf soul.

Judith ground her teeth. For once, she let her rage burn with a quiet fire in her belly and dove for the knot of black leather on the field.

“What have you done?” Judith growled before her feet even touched the ground. She hovered in front of Rie, who lifted a hand to stop the dark elves from attempting any violence against the angel. In the back of her mind, Judith was grateful for the protection, but her thoughts would not be distracted from the horrors of this scene.

“It was the only way,” Rie replied. “The Upper Realm must learn they’re no longer the only power in the nine realms.”

Judith shook her head, the embers of anger burning brighter. “At the expense of everyone in this realm? If you don’t shut the gates soon, the world will be overrun.”

“So you’ll help me put them back.” Rie said it as if it were easy, as if anyone could find the lost souls and return them to their afterlife with a snap of their fingers.

“That’s not how it works. Any body they possess becomes theirs. Taking them back is murder now.”

Apprentice Sanyare had no idea what she’d done. She could not fathom the danger of allowing souls to wander the realms, especially these souls, the souls that had wasted away in Hollows South for so long that only the basest emotions remained. If they claimed bodies, they would have no conscience, no purpose beyond the satisfaction of their immediate desires. They would turn once great men and women toward evil. Even if the original soul retained its seat in the body, and even if that soul was pure and strong, the wicked would influence the body’s actions and drive the good to fall.

“Then fight with us. Help me stop Othin and Thanûr, and we can return the souls to the Daemon Realm before they take a body.”

Judith shook her head. “It’s too late. Many are already gone. And in high elf bodies. They’ll be able to travel the portals now. And they’ll have the full lifespan of the greater fae.”

Apprentice Sanyare’s eyes narrowed into fiercely angry slits. “You refused to help when I asked. I had no other option. But you do. Help me. Fight. And we’ll send as many back as we can before the wicked take over the earth.”

“The Moirai will not be happy about this.” Sanyare didn’t need to know that Michael had given his blessing for this mission. She didn’t need to know that the Moirai probably already knew and had anticipated what was happening. What she needed to realize was that the short-term win on this battlefield would lead to long-term problems throughout all nine realms.

“I’ll make it up to them later. Right now, I need to send the elves back to where they belong—before the entire human race is enslaved along with anyone else the high elves deem ‘lesser.’”

Judith said no more. There was no point. Apprentice Sanyare’s actions had set this path in motion, and the only way forward was to do as she asked. Judith didn’t like being manipulated in this way, but she would do her duty.

Lifting her wings high above her head, Judith readied herself for battle. Daenor’s jaw clenched, his fire running down the length of his sword. Whether a threat or a warning, Judith didn’t know, didn’t care. With a gust of wind and a great downstroke of her wings, Judith launched herself straight up into the sky.

Eliphaz and his squad, plus the dozen or more individuals who had chosen to follow Judith into this battle, circled overhead. She unsheathed her sword. Lifted it overhead. Judith shouted in the musical language of the angels, singing the order to engage. Attack squads formed, each angel carrying an enchanted blade in their hand. They would try to avoid using the blades on the unpossessed living, but if needs must…

Judith dove toward the battle. The guardians followed her lead, their war cries ringing over the noise of the conflict below.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

FIERY ARROWS WHISTLED through the sky. Judith spun and dove, avoiding the deadly points. Smoke billowed through the air, choking her lungs. Judith coughed, but ignored the stinging pain. An opening in the battlefront; five souls swarming away from the rest of the horde, toward the same fire sidhe who shot arrows at the guardians. The fire masters seemed oblivious to the danger.

End the souls and save the enemy? Or let them possess the living and end the threat?

Torn, Judith waited too long. The souls darted forward. Latched onto the fire sidhe. In seconds, they’d taken the bodies and gone, their allegiances their own. Judith would have to deal with them later, but right now, she was grateful she didn’t have to dodge the arrows.

Meanwhile, Rie raced across the rocky ground, her speed faster than human, but slower than the blood sidhe who sprinted past. Her prince ran at her side, keeping pace and redirecting the flaming projectiles aimed at Sanyare’s form. Every arrow and fireball was either extinguished instantly or sent back to its master at even greater speed.

Distracted by a fireball the size of his own head, Daenor didn’t see the sword that would strike Sanyare across the chest. Judith dove, spinning toward the ground in a corkscrew of speed. Rie avoided the blade, but the high elf warrior wouldn’t miss a second time. At the last possible instant, Judith spread her wings wide, catching the air and swinging her legs down. Her boot clad foot connected with the golden helmet. The elf fell, the helmet bounced away. Rie sliced the enemy across his neck.

A quick nod of thanks, and Sanyare was away. The soul screamed its pain and terror at facing the afterlife. A tear slid down Judith’s cheek. Rie couldn’t hear the anguish of the soul torn from the high elf’s body. Didn’t understand the true destruction of this battle.

Or maybe she did. This battle, if won, would prevent the greater loss of life across the realms. Or so she believed.

As Judith pumped her wings to gain altitude, the soul’s voice was silenced. The reaper had come and taken the elf to the gates. He would receive the afterlife he deserved.

Narrowly avoiding an arrow to the wing, Judith once again corkscrewed toward the ground. A golden-helmed warrior lunged, aiming his spear at her torso. Judith’s sword cut the wooden staff in two. He drew a dagger. Judith parried, then lunged. Her sword found the gap between chest plate and waist skirt. The high elf fell to his knees as Judith returned to the sky.

The wicked souls continued to swarm the battlefield, pushing back the high elves and their allies. It seemed high king Othin hadn’t anticipated the possibility of possession, hadn’t protected them against an incursion of souls of this magnitude or the repercussions from the guardians. The tide of war had turned. The elves raced to the portals despite the urging of their king.

Eliphaz and his squad swooped toward Judith, the rest of the choir close behind. Blood dripped from his sword, and his expression was clouded and grim.

The souls are escaping. His mental voice sounded out of breath, reflecting his physical state.

The battle is nearly over, Judith replied.

Rie had reached the summit of the high elf hill, would confront the high king and his allies. At this distance, Judith couldn’t hear what was being said, but it didn’t much matter. Rie had won.

We can’t allow them to spread. They must be contained. Eliphaz stated.

Corral the wicked, push them back to the breach and through. Judith said.

And those that have already possessed the bodies of the living?

They will be found and judged. I’ll bring the matter to the Moirai, and Rie will answer for her actions.

Eliphaz thumped his fist on his chest, then led the choir to the battlefield.

“No!” a male voice shouted.

Judith snapped her attention back to the hilltop. Daenor stood braced in front of Rie, placing his body between her and a wave of fire that threatened to consume them both. The fire queen pushed the wave toward the couple, while Daenor and Sanyare pushed back. Stalemate.

Judith could do nothing but watch, horrified, as Rie opened a new breach in the veil. The mist of the Hollows gathered around her ankles, filled with the mournful voices of the wicked aching for release.

Othin and the last of the high elf soldiers yet living disappeared through a portal with a snap of displaced air.

Rie drew back her arm. Pitched forward. A javelin of white mist pierced the fire queen through her heart. The souls screamed in joy and pain as one by one they took possession, then gave way to another. Norgeledil screamed loudest, her voice quickly silenced and drawn away.

It was over.

Judith landed on the hilltop in a cloud of dust as the fire king and the body of his queen disappeared through the portal. Sirens wailed in the background, red and blue lights strobed across the rock and sand. The human authorities were on their way.

Rie, shoulders drooping with fatigue, turned toward Judith.

“I must thank you for aiding us today.”

Judith shook her head, quietly seething. “It was not my choice. You put the immortal lives of the guardians at risk and let loose the wicked on the living. There will be consequences.”

“There are always consequences. If I had done nothing, the Human Realm would be enslaved by Othin, and Norgeledil would have continued her persecution of those she felt had betrayed her, including the water fae of the Summer Realm. She had to be stopped.”

“Be that as it may, you will have to answer to the Moirai.” And they would be swift with their justice.

Rie let out a tired breath. “Yes. But first, we have to clean up this mess, attempt to explain the battlefield to the humans. Which means, you need to go.”

Judith glanced toward the sirens and lights. The humans would be walking over that hill in moments, she was sure. Humans who had no concept of magic, of the afterlife, or the reality of the nine realms would crest the horizon and find bodies strewn throughout the canyon, blood spattered and pooled beneath and around the corpses. A few resolute warriors struggled to move toward the portals and return to their realms. Aradae and the remaining black-clad shadow warriors gathered near the largest archway. They proceeded through the veil in a steady stream, but they wouldn’t all be able to leave before the humans arrived.

“How will you explain this?”

Rie shook her head. “We will hide what we can. The strongest of the blood sidhe will glamour the battlefield, conceal what cannot be easily explained. But you and the guardians shouldn’t be here.”

“Then I will wait for you at the portal.”

With another heavy sigh and a nod of her head, Rie agreed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE TRIP FROM the portal through the Wasteland path was pleasantly uneventful, if fraught with tension. Angry at having been manipulated into action, and at the reckless use of wicked souls in warfare, Judith didn’t have much to say to Apprentice Sanyare or her companions. Nor did they try to open conversation. Caked in dust and blood, their clothing crusted and stinking with the remains of the battle, the group hadn’t even made the time to clean themselves before visiting the Moirai. Judith had at least wiped off the gore.

Ssierra’s nose wrinkled when she saw them at the Wasteland headquarters, but she didn’t say a word. She simply ushered them into the elevator and up to the Moirai office door, her snake-like tail curving along the floor behind her.

“Your ladyshipss and Sanyaro, Judith hass returned with Apprentice Sanyare,” Ssierra hissed as she held open the double doors.

Judith’s spine straightened. After crossing the threshold into the office, she gave the customary guardian salute, first to the Moirai, and then made a half turn to the left to salute Sanyaro.

When had he arrived? How had he known? It didn’t much matter, except that as the most important person present, save the Moirai themselves, he should receive a due level of respect. But the man sat in the corner, a weary expression lining his face. His shoulder-length dark blonde hair looked bedraggled, as if it hadn’t been properly brushed in days, and dark circles created deep shadows beneath blue eyes.

“Come in, everyone,” Clotho murmured, drawing Judith’s attention back to the front of the room even though the mistress of the weave kept her eyes trained on the computer screen in front of her. The clacking of keys continued. Finally, a pause.

“Atropos, thirteen unexpected deaths pending in the Southern California mudslides,” Clotho said. Her fingers stilled and she clasped her hands on the desk in front of her.

The elder sister growled a few incomprehensible words into the headset she wore over one ear. “Reapers have been assigned.” Then she took the device off, placing it carefully next to the black keyboard on the desk.

Judith’s eyes widened and her thoughts whirled. The Moirai never stopped. That they had…

Lachesis—always the dreamer—focused her gaze on Rie’s face with an intensity that made Judith glad she wasn’t on the receiving end.

“The wicked escaped our control. That has not happened in more than fifteen hundred years.” Clotho’s voice was calm, modulated to a quiet murmur that still carried across the room. “Yet it happened twice in the last two moons.”

“What were you thinking?” Atropos snapped, her rumble of a voice cutting through the silence. The ageless woman’s hands hovered over her ancient knives.

“She is young and still learning,” Sanyaro cut in. His voice was tired, but still carried a gravitas that made everyone turn and listen.

“Ignorance is not an acceptable excuse for the powerful among us.” Atropos replied. “You of all people should know this.”

Sanyaro inclined his head, but Rie stepped forward before he could say another word.

“I did what had to be done. The tribunal had failed. The Human Realm needed to be protected, and King Aradae needed allies. I could give them to him.”

A flimsy and manipulative excuse, to Judith’s way of thinking. It seemed the Moirai agreed.

“You protected a realm in the present, at the expense of the future.” Atropos’ eyes flashed, her anger palpable in the small office space.

“Calm, sister,” Clotho murmured, placing her hand flat on the table as if it could somehow quash the rising anger.

Prince Daenor stepped forward, resting his hand on Rie’s shoulder. “War requires terrible actions for the purpose of good.”

Judith took a deep breath, battling the raging negative emotions that threatened to rise to the surface. She forced herself to stay quiet, to let the Moirai handle this conversation. They didn’t need her help. But Sanyare had set events in motion that couldn’t be easily resolved.

As if reading her thoughts, Lachesis glanced in Judith’s direction. “The future isn’t set,” she murmured. “The lost can be found.”

“Lost souls have claimed bodies and dispersed,” Clotho said. “The wicked now roam the nine realms.”

And who would find them and bring them home? Who would stop them from fostering insanity and destruction?

“I returned the souls to the gates,” Rie replied.

Judith shook her head, the embers of anger bursting to life. “Only those you could find. The guardians herded many back through the breach before it finally closed, but the angels couldn’t capture them all. Bringing them into the Human Realm was irresponsible— ”

Clotho lifted a hand, silencing Judith’s tirade. “Many lost souls possessed bodies and escaped through the portals. Without birth records, we cannot track their movements, and we cannot bring them back to the Hollows until we know where they are hiding.”

“I will not apologize for taking necessary action.”

“But you will fix it.” Clotho’s gaze fixed on Rie, her expression implacable.

Thank the gods, the Moirai would see justice served. They would be able to fix this. Wouldn’t they?

Watching Clotho’s face, Judith suddenly became unsure. The woman remained cold and controlled, but there seemed to be a lurking uncertainty in her eyes. Lachesis said it wasn’t too late, but could she be wrong?

A crease formed between Rie’s eyebrows. “How do you mean?

“You let them out. You are responsible for their behavior. When a lost soul loses its sanity—and the worst won’t take long to do it—you will find and stop them.”

“And Judith will help,” Atropos added.

Judith’s mouth gaped open. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What?!”

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Lachesis’s voice was back to its usual dreamy quality, her gaze trained off into a distance that no one else could see.

It was a terrible idea. They were going to force Judith to work with Apprentice Sanyare, to assist the woman who had just given Chaos a foothold in reality.

“Rie will need help, and the guardians should have a representative to ensure the souls are judged and treated fairly,” Clotho continued.

Judith shook her head, disbelief raging. She couldn’t help Rie. She hadn’t been responsible for the diaspora. And besides, she had just begun her studies with Tirzah. “What about my training?”

“You will still train, but who better to bring in the lost souls than a warrior and counselor in training?”

“Perhaps an actual counselor would be more suitable,” Judith replied. There was no possible way she was best suited for this job.

“Compassion and loyalty, strength and integrity,” Lachesis murmured. “Courage…a clouded path with many twists…” The chooser of souls closed her eyes, turning her head to the side as if listening to a distant strain of music.

Her sisters seemed to ignore her.

“Yes, I believe this is the perfect arrangement,” Clotho said. “Rie will handle the inevitable conflicts that arise from the migration of the wicked souls, Judith will assist, and Sanyaro and the Moirai will oversee all operations. We will need regular communication.”

“Of course,” Sanyaro replied. “I will be happy to be involved.”

“Of course you will.” A wry twist of her lips graced Clotho’s smooth skin. “You’ve always wanted more interaction with the Daemon Realm. And your mortal family.”

Garamaen shrugged and lifted his hands. “I will admit to remaining curious about the inner-workings of your realm. If it gives me more time with Una and Nashota, and perhaps Angeni, well, that’s icing.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“But…” Judith began. She didn’t want to work with Sanyare. She didn’t want to be a counselor to the wicked and lost souls. Warrior-counselor held no appeal. How had this happened?

As one, the Moirai returned their fingers to their keyboards and resumed their endless typing. Whatever Judith was going to say, it would be lost on the Moirai. They’d made their decision. The best Judith could do now was speed the process along. The faster they found the lost souls, the better.

Atropos glanced up again as the group began to file out of the office. “One more thing. If Apprentice Sanyare or anyone else removes a single soul from the Hollows after today, I will personally sever their soulstrings and bring them to the gates.”

The End

Shaman

An Exclusive short story

Only for Newsletter Subscribers

I hope you enjoyed reading Guardian: The Sanyare Chronicles Companion Novella! Don’t worry, you haven’t seen the last of Judith. In fact, she’s heavily featured in Sanyare: The Winter Warrior (Book 4), coming July 17, 2018! But while you’re waiting, have you read the short story prequel, Shaman?

Injured and alone, believing his death is near, Garamaen faces exile in a foreign land. But when a young shaman finds him, things don't go to plan. When the undead rise to destroy his saviors, can Garamaen find the will to live . . . and free them from terror?

Shaman is a story written exclusively for the subscribers of The Sanyare Chronicles newsletter.

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Thank You for Reading!

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Coming July 17, 2018!

Her choice won the war, but may have cost her more than she can bear…

Rie should be praised as a hero. She won the Battle of the Arches and stopped the next Great War. Instead, she’s hiding out under the strict watch of her mentor, Lord Garamaen Sanyaro.

But when Sanyaro’s own past comes back to haunt him, they must journey into the hostile territory of the Winter Realm to bring an old enemy to justice. Will she be able to stop the terror before lives are lost? Or will the choices of the past demand a final sacrifice?

Sanyare: The Winter Warrior is the thrilling fourth installment in The Sanyare Chronicles. If you like fast-paced action-packed fantasy with kick-butt heroines, snarky sidekicks, and spectacular magic-fueled fireballs, you’ll love this book!

Preorder on Amazon today!

Acknowledgments

This book would never have been finished without the help of a few wonderful individuals.

First, to my husband: Without your support, I wouldn’t have begun writing, let alone chosen to pursue independent publishing as a career. It’s been a slow journey, and we’ve made some sacrifices, but we both know I’m happier for it.

Next up is my copyeditor and little sister, Kimberly Peticolas. I’m so thrilled to have you as a part of my publishing team! This has become a family endeavor, which is so cool. I’m proud of you for starting your own business, and impressed by your dedication and attention to detail. I know you don’t take it easy on me, and for that, I’m grateful!

Which nicely leads to my fantastic parents, John and Jan Peticolas, subject-matter expert and proofreader extraordinaire. I truly value your input into these books and your support of this crazy dream. Thank you for teaching me to take critique with grace, and for never holding back on honest, insightful opinions.

To my developmental editor, Katie McCoach, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your guidance and hard work on this series. You always bring new insight to the characters and the story, and my books would not be as good without your input. Thank you!

I also couldn’t have done it without my beta team, Allison, Michelle, Tamima, Greta, and Deanna…you all are amazing. Thank you for your critical assessment of these pages.

Last but not least, thank you to the Terrible Ten for the inspiration and motivation to keep on pushing. You know who you are.

About Megan Haskell

Legend has it, I was born with a book in my hands. When I was a kid, my mom would ground me from reading in order to get me to do my chores. To this day, I can readily ignore the real world in favor of the imaginary one lurking between the pages of my current addiction. My dad — also an avid reader — introduced me to Tolkien in my late elementary years, and I never looked back. I love escaping to worlds where magic and monsters are real, especially stories with kick-butt heroines and dangerously attractive heroes.

Despite my voracious book appetite, I didn’t start creative writing until I was working as a number cruncher in a big accounting firm. With an hour plus commute by train every day, and a demanding left-brain occupation, I needed a mobile creative outlet. A pen and paper are about as mobile as it gets! As the pages began to fill, I quickly moved onto a tiny laptop, and a writer was born. Now I get to create my own fantasies!

I am also the Content Director for O.C. Writers, A Network of Published and Aspiring Authors. We offer resources and events for both new and established authors in the Orange County, California area and online. If you’re a writer, come check us out at OCWriters.Network!

I currently live in Southern California with my wonderfully supportive husband, two daughters, and a ridiculously energetic dog. You can often find me behind the computer screen, working into the wee hours of the night when the house is quiet.

To stay informed of all the latest happenings with me and my books, join my monthly reader newsletter at MeganHaskell.com.