Reaper Kissed

33. Reaper King

"What's that?"

"A piece of goodness, a struggling kindness in a dark world."

"You consider yourself a part of that darkness?" She guessed. He nodded. "You're wrong. The first time I felt any hope, any hope that there was a future – was when I was standing in that stupid cell in your office, and you asked me to fix you."

Ryder let go of her hand, ducking his head sheepishly. He remembered that time, he'd kissed her – rather a lot - thinking that she was Lauren. "When you admitted that you wanted to live differently. You're my hope, Ryder. You're the only person who I think can stop the fighting."

"You're wrong," he breathed nervously. "It's you."

Chloe stared at him, blinked and then snorted in disbelief.

"Huh?"

"Elle had a vision. It's you that saves the world."

Chloe shook her head, smiling modestly.

"That can't be right," she dismissed. 

"It is. I believe in you."

Chloe looked away, glad that the dark hid her face. No one had ever believed in her before. "What happened to the hybrid, Phelan?" An edge entered Ryder's voice as he spoke. Chloe's shoulders tensed. "Chloe?" His voice softened. "I'm sorry," he apologised – guessing what her continued silence meant.

"You shouldn't be sorry. He was the one that first planned on betraying you at Solemn. Rylan just continued the scheme Phelan had started. He lied to you...and me." She added in a lower tone.

"You cared for him?"

"He was my soulmate, it was a fairy-tale – a perfect ideal. But I guess that I didn't really know him at all."

"And Thorn?"

Chloe turned to him. He was asking about her feelings for Thorn, dangerous territory since Ryder had sent Thorn to the underworld because of her.

"Is he...?" Her voice faltered.

"I'm going to get him back. I never should have sent him to the underworld like that. I owe him...more than that."

Chloe bit her tongue. Not sure what was the wisest thing to say. Thorn, Ryder's silent angel, her heart trembled at the thought of seeing him again. She wondered if she should tell Ryder that Thorn had told her that he loved him. Chloe grabbed Ryder suddenly.

"Listen," she whispered. A dry rattling breath.

Ryder held still, trusting Chloe's sharper senses. Chloe jutted her chin in the direction of the next street. Creeping as quietly as they could, they retraced their steps.

              Thorn strode purposefully through the misty catacombs of the Empty Edge. He wore a reapers cloak on his broad shoulders, that billowed out behind him, and a crown atop his young head. All the cobwebs broke away, dust and rot disappearing as Thorn – the Reaper King- marched by. It was like a spell was being lifted, spreading out from each footfall were ripples of shimmering light that spread out over the Empty Edge. Where once had been ruin and ashes, now splendour replaced it.

The Empty Edge came to life with music, it had a true ruler once more – one with the blood of the gods in his veins. Order and harmony had returned to death. Thorn broke out from the now dazzling caves to enter the theatre that the late Murias had once presented him with.

Now dead, the former warden's soul had flitted lightly to a tower and his body had dissolved into powder before it could even break apart on Skulls bridge. In the end, Murias had lacked much substance – his life had protracted too long. Thorn stood in the theatre, now newly decorated with fine velvet and illuminated by hundreds of candles, and stared up at the screen. He gazed pityingly up at the image of Lauren, reduced to beast – scuttling along deserted streets.

The warden had cursed her cruelly with his kiss. Even as Reaper King, Thorn had no power to help her, yet. But one thing he could do, for Ryder and his lover. Thorn conjured in his hand an orb of light, the size Lux had been. But this ones light was a pearly blend of pinks and soft purples.

"Morpheus," Thorn spoke softly, addressing the orb. "They need you."

                Chloe and Ryder were hiding in the canteen kitchens. The place was deserted but the fridges' continuing buzzing was setting Chloe's teeth on edge. She glanced across at Ryder. He was asleep, his head leant back against the cabinets – a shabby apron draped over him as a quilt. A deep frown had marred his forehead earlier but as she watched, his frown disappeared as a look of utter contentment diffused over his ashen face.

She envied him his dreams, that had transported him far from Gomorrah and from the fear of its trapped citizens.