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against the outside wall. Then he wrapped his arms around her.
    “Laylah . . . it’s me . . . it’s all right. I heard your call and came as quickly as I could. I’ve built a fire, though you can’t see it from here. Jord is roasting venison. Are you hungry? Thirsty? There is also wine.”
    “We’re . . . I’m  . . . very hungry and thirsty,” Laylah said.
    “Come then, my love. I will show you the way.”
    He took her hand and led her into the abyss.
    Eventually, they found light again. Jord, adorned in alabaster robes, stood near the spitted carcass of a large buck suspended over a fire that illuminated a circular area about ten cubits in diameter. The Faerie’s welcoming smile appeared genuine.
    “Trials are yet to come, Laylah, but for now you are safe in the house of Jord,” she said.
    “Are any of us safe?” Laylah said.
    Torg answered. “We are what we are—living beings doomed to suffer and die. But we are not without the ability to end our suffering. And as you now know firsthand, death is nothing to fear. You also are a Death-Knower.”
    Laylah looked into his deep-blue eyes, which were as beautiful as diamonds. The first stirrings of her former adoration emerged from the horror of her sufferings.
    “How did you manage all this?” she said, gesturing toward the darkness.
    Torg grimaced, but then his face softened. “As you might guess, it was not just me. Peta, Jord, and Vedana played roles even larger than mine.”
    Then he briefly explained to her what had occurred since Invictus had taken her from the Green Plains, though the expression on his face became filled with anguish when he described Rathburt’s selfless act of heroism.
    Laylah listened intently, then nodded. “And Peta is gone?”
    “Yes . . . it appears so.”
    “Did she tell you how long the darkness will last?”
    “No. But I would guess several more days.”
    “And Invictus?”
    “Dead.”
    “You are certain?”
    “Aren’t you?”
    Jord stepped between them. “Invictus’s body is no longer. Of that there is no doubt. But as I said before, trials are yet to come.”
    “Tell us,” Torg said.
    “I cannot,” Jord said.
    “I don’t want your help, anyway,” Laylah said, her voice as cold as the icy wind. For reasons she could not define, she wanted to slap Jord in the face.
    “Do you want mine?” Torg said.
    After a long pause, Laylah said, “Yes.”
    The wizard smiled with apparent relief. “Much has occurred. It is no wonder that you are confused. In fact, you are alive only because of the energy you consumed in the Realm of Death.” Then he smiled again. “Together, you and I will face whatever trials are laid before us. And whatever has happened to your child, I will be there for both of you.”
    Then he took her in his arms. This time, she did not resist. When he held her, she felt blue-green power surge from his flesh into hers. But around her abdomen, there was a separate golden glow, dense and foreign. If Torg sensed it, he did not say.
    Laylah drank water instead of wine and eventually ate far more than was typical, her hunger as intense as the darkness. Torg used Obhasa to guide them both back to the hut, and they lay down together and wrapped themselves in the deerskin blanket. Jord did not join them.
    Torg was tender with her. He did not attempt to even kiss her. Instead, he just held her, his hard stomach pressed against her buttocks, and he placed his hand lovingly on her belly and left it there. Though the air in the small hut remained stale, Laylah could smell his sweet breath, pleasant and intoxicating. Her earlier anger began to take on a sense of irrationality. Of course it wasn’t his fault that the baby had been harmed. How could he have known? And of course Invictus had to be destroyed. Laylah put her hand on his and sighed.
    “Beloved . . .” she purred and then fell into a deep sleep. She dreamed of the silence of death and was comforted.
    From then on, time passed