Sacred, ancient words flowed through me—the Rite of Endings, a forbidden prayer from the ancient mortal religion. “End be your time, a trade in kind, a life well-lived for peace to find.” As the prayer tumbled from my lips, the man’s feet shuffled over dusty stone. He sauntered closer, and my words quickened with my racing heart. “Be not afraid, as shadows fade, all pain and woe shall be unmade.” “A blasphemer,” he sneered. “Good. I’ll sleep easier knowing you earned your death.” “Now fate well-sealed shall be revealed, for those whose worthy souls shall yield.” “Your mortal gods can’t help
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