“There was no God of Death before him. There was only the Primal of Death.”
I remembered what Nyktos had shared with me. “Did Rhain replace one of the Primals that Nyktos said had become tainted and corrupt?”
“In a way.” Reaver’s head tilted to the side as he looked at the ceiling, his eyes closing. “There was only one true Primal of Death, and that—the storm and the woman—felt like him.”
“Nyktos is both the Primal of Life and Death,” Kieran said.
“Wrong.”
Kieran knelt. “I’m not wrong.”
“You are.” Reaver lowered his chin, his eyes opening. “Nyktos was never the true Primal of Death. There was another before him. His name was Kolis.”
“Kolis?” Naill repeated, stepping around Emil. “I’ve never heard that name.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“Erased history,” I murmured, looking over my shoulder at the others. “Remember what I told you about what Nyktos said? About the other Primals and the war that broke out between them and the gods?” I faced Reaver. “That’s why we wouldn’t know his name, right?”
Reaver nodded.
“I cannot be the only person who’s sitting here thinking that the name Kolis is awfully similar to Solis,” Vonetta remarked.
She wasn’t. It hadn’t passed me by either.
“What happened to this Kolis?” Perry spoke up. The Atlantian had been quiet the entire time as he stood with a somber Delano. “Or the other Primals?”
“Some of the Primals passed on to Arcadia, a place very much like the Vale but which can be entered without death,” Reaver said, and the confusion I felt from the others said they were as unfamiliar with Arcadia as I was.
“Some?” Perry prodded.
“Some,” Reaver repeated. “Others were ended. As in they died. Were no more. A figment of a forgotten past. Dead. No longer—”
“I get it,” I stopped him. “We all get it.”
“Glad to hear,” the draken retorted. “Kolis is as good as dead.”
I didn’t let his tone get to me. He’d just lost sixteen draken—some who had to be friends. Maybe even family. I knew so very little about Reaver—about any of the draken. And now, most of them were gone. A shiver slithered down my spine. “As good as dead isn’t dead, Reaver.”
“He’s been dealt with. Entombed long ago. None of us would be here if he hadn’t been,” he insisted. “And the only thing that could’ve released him is the Primal of Life. That would never happen. They…they were the kind of enemies that go beyond blood and bone.”
My heart rate settled a little. The last thing any of us needed to deal with was a randomly awakened Primal of Death.
“Wait.” Reaver’s brows knitted and then smoothed as his head jerked toward me. “Holy shit, I should’ve caught on to this. Admittedly, I don’t always pay attention. You all talk a lot and do so in circles.”
I started to frown when I heard what sounded like a choked laugh coming from Hisa.
“You spoke of these…creations your enemy has. Ones that can survive any injury?” Reaver asked.
“Yes.” Kieran placed a hand on the floor.
“Do they come back to life?”
Kieran tilted his head. “What else does survive any injury mean?”
“Not the same as returning to life,” Reaver shot back.
“Yes, they come back to life,” I jumped in.
“Are they called Revenants?”
“They are.” I looked around the room. “I’m sure I’ve said that before when you were around. More than once.”
“Like I said, I don’t always pay attention,” he admitted. “Let me guess. They’re the third sons and daughters.”
“Yes.” Emil drew out the word. “That would be correct. You know what these things are?”
“Revenants were Kolis’s pet project. His crowning achievement,” Reaver said. “He used magic to create them—the kind that only worked on them.”
Vonetta straightened as I thought of the ledgers. “Why only them?”
“Because the third sons and daughters carry embers of eather in them.”
“I don’t understand,” Kieran said. “And I don’t think I’m the only one who doesn’t.”
“Everything in every realm descends from a Primal—well, besides the draken. We come from nothing. We just are and have always been,” Reaver said, and I had no idea what to make of that—any of it.