slowly over time, until nothing remains but the shades.” I shiver. “Why would they choose that?” I breathe. “They are trapped by the fear of where they would go if they crossed. We’re not talking about people who lived good lives, Damiana. Most of those shades are dark witches or humans who behaved more like monsters than any of the creatures you call your friends.” “So they choose this instead of Hell?” I lean back so I can see his face. “They choose this over the chance of going to Hell,” he corrects with all too knowing eyes.
