His head whipped toward me, eyes opening. “You feel it?” I swallowed, nodding. “I feel death.” A muscle ticked along his jaw. “What you feel are souls separating from their bodies.” Theon swore under his breath, and I stared up at Nyktos, having not thought of the fact that as the Primal of Death he would be able to feel it. Feel death when it happened. As I did.
