Welcome to DragonLance Saga Readings. Today I am reading Love’s Remains by Adam P. Campbell from Dragons of Ash and Twilight. Originally distributed on May 6, 2026. You can pick up a copy here: https://dlsaga.com/dragons-of-ash-and-twilight/
About Dragons of Ash and Twilight
Step into a world where the echoes of ancient wars collide with the desperate struggles of a new age. Dragons of Ash and Twilight is a pulse-pounding anthology of original short stories, exploring the raw edges of a realm defined by high stakes, dark magic, and the heavy price of destiny.
From the embers of a broken pantheon to the frontlines of a world at war, this collection pushes the boundaries of the DLSaga. Experience the grit of legendary battles, the brilliance of forgotten sorcery, and the untold stories of those living in
the shadow of giants.
Epic in scope. Uncompromising in spirit.
Whether you are a devoted chronicler of high fantasy or a newcomer drawn to the flame, this is where the saga continues.
Short Story
Love’s Remains
By Adam P. Campbell
39 Prae Cataclius
Somewhere West of the Midrath Mountains
“I love you,” Amara whispered, slowly sliding her hand up Darian’s bare spine, burying her fingers gently into his hair. In response, he pushed his mouth even deeper against hers, playfully letting his tongue explore the tip of hers, then parted. He glided his hands down from framing her face, past her neck, across her shoulders and down to her arms. He lifted her arms as he slid down her body, impossibly slowly, leaving delicate kisses from her neck to her breasts, and then to her stomach. Her barely audible moans were all he needed to hear, reaffirming that he was headed in the right direction. He used his right thigh and knee to press between her legs, parting them as his hands slid down her sides. He caressed her breasts slightly on the way to her thighs, pressing them up and outward, opening her to him completely. His tongue began to explore her as he was shaken awake to the sound of screaming all around him.
Darian’s eyes darted open, breathing heavily from the dream. The softness of Amara’s skin was replaced by the frozen mountain beneath him. Cassian Morvek was hovering over him, a slight smile on his face belying the stress evident in his eyes.
“Having another one of your wet dreams again, Darian? I swear I can always tell by your damn moaning. You should really put a lid on that—you’re going to give away our position one of these days.”
Cassian grabbed Darian’s breastplate about the shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position as Darian Volkar assessed this new reality around him.
“Perhaps you should try minding your own business, you son of Morgion’s whore.”
“Oh now, don’t get nasty, you know I like that filthy mouth of yours.”
Darian smiled at his friend and battle buddy. Their Icodio—the Knight Banneret of their Ina, or squadron—walked among the ruins where they had camped the night before, on their long march to Vsule.
“Get up you lazy bastards, you need to thank Paladine that I don’t whip every one of you for insubordination for making me wait! Your rations are getting cold; get up and prepare to move out!”
Tiber Kaelos, their Icodio wasn’t a cruel man, but he had a turn of phrase when they were on a mission. Hell, they all knew the gravity of their assignment. Handed down directly from the Kingpriest Beldinas Pilofiro himself. It was part of his declaration of Manifest Virtue. Freburmo Tavarre of Luciel, the Grand Marshal of the Order of the Divine Hammer, was given a mandate to locate and eliminate all traces of the evil gods in the Empire of Istar. The past seven and a half months had been pure hell as they sent one cult after another screaming into the Abyss with a greeting to their dark gods: Never step foot on Krynn again.
You would think the gods would have received the message loud and clear by now, and yet there were still cults that refused to leave of their own accord; and some even had the temerity to strike back. Such was the destination of Darian’s Ina. The infamous Arkhavel, Bone-Seer of Chemosh, had been active in this area, turning innocent, Paladine fearing villagers into undead soldiers. All Darian could think of at this moment was how close he felt to Amara just a few heartbeats before, and how desperate he was to stop the cult before they reached his home of Zathraas. He rolled up onto his feet, and began packing his things in his backpack, convinced he could smell Amara’s breath lingering on the cool brisk morning breeze. He pulled his backpack up and onto his back as he surveyed the early morning sky. It was near cloudless. The winter storm the night before had cleared out, the constellations still faintly visible as Lunitari dipped near the horizon.
His breath was visible as he pulled on his gloves, turning to Cassian. “Can you believe how cold it is?”
“Yea, you know how? My balls are rock solid… frozen. That’s how cold it is. I’d go take a piss if I thought it wouldn’t turn into a piss-cycle and stick to my leggings.
Come on, let’s get some grub, I heard Chios made porridge this morning.”
“I love his gruel.” Darian sarcastically replied as they moved off to the central fire.
“Now listen up, knights.” Icodio Kaelos called out. “We are moving out shortly. Our scouts have found evidence of the cult’s migration toward Vsule. If Paladine favors us, we will intercept them before they reach the town.
“I know it’s not pretty, but it’s our privilege to execute the Kingpriest’s orders and bring peace and justice to Istar.”
Some of the knights responded heartily to the statement with a “Hail!”
“If we don’t stop these devils, their vile cult will spread into every town, warren, and hill around these mountains, and then we’ll never get ‘em out. We have a chance to end this conflict once and for all. Our spies have informed us that the Bone-Seer Arkhavel has charged his Hierophant, a vile beast of a man named Caldris Ossian, with leading their effort of recruiting more souls into their ranks. And you know what that means… the murder of women, children, and any man they can get their claws and teeth into.”
“Do you really think we can stop them, Icodio?” One of the knights called out.
“You better pray to the Light Bringer that we can Knight, or we’ll all be the target of our Freburmo’s next Birafas.”
Freburmo Tavarre had an entire Droma, or division, of Birafas, the regiments of Istar. They were a new order on Krynn, formed by the Kingpriest after the Twice-Born, Cathan MarSevrin, the Kingpriest’s closest ally, had a vision of a golden hammer falling from the sky over Istar. The Kingpriest declared this vision a divine mandate, and formed the Order of the Divine Hammer, anointing MarSevrin the first Divine Hammer. For the first few years of the order’s existence, their ranks swelled. First from those able bodied true-believers in the Kingpriest. Even some Knights of Solamnia forsook their order and joined up in the ranks of the Divine Hammer. Finally orphans all around the empire, who had no other place to go, and no other mission but to serve. This is where Darian saw his opportunity.
The only thing that stopped him initially was that he was a married man. Three years before both he and Amara Kesh decided to marry themselves in the ancient way of their forefathers. They swore themselves to each other in the foothills south of the Midrath Mountains. They found each other in the streets of Zathraas, both of their families having been killed, much like every other orphan in the city, but this was not a rare circumstance. It seemed with the rise of the Kingpriest, there was an equal and opposite rise of darkness, and with that darkness came death, starvation, disease, and suffering.
Amara and Darian found solace in each other’s company. Their friendship in survival turned to affection, then love. They swore to always be true to one another in Zivilyn’s sight. The thought of Amara is enough to make Darian’s heart skip a beat. It clouds his mind, dulls his focus, and holds back his sword arm from doing the work he had sworn to do. Work he has to do in order to be with her again. Some would call it murder, others, a knight doing his duty. Darian saw it as a means to an end. But every man or creature Darian was forced to kill, felt like one more step away from Amara, from his humanity. And everything in him ached to be in her arms again. Their love was pure, true. A love like that comes around only once in an age, or so they said. But love alone is never enough. Love needs support, a means by which to exist and grow. This is why Darian swore his life to the Divine Hammer. For the promise of a future for his one true love, Amara Kesh.
Darian’s shoulder jerked forward with a slap on the back from Cassian, waking him from yet another reverie. “Are you ready Darian?”
“What? Oh, yea, let’s go.” Darian stood, refocusing himself on the task at hand. These ‘mind-slips,’ as he called them, were growing more frequent. He hadn’t expected the shame of lying about his marriage to gnaw at him, nor the weight of risking his comrades because of it. He thought he could live the lie he needed to, but as he fell further away from the man he was with Amara into the knight he was in the Divine Hammer, the regret and shame of the lie had grown in his mind, and his ‘mind-slips’ had grown in frequency. He sauntered over to his squad as his Icodio called for the Ina to form up. Traversing these mountains would have been much easier with the horses, but the horses were the first to go after their initial run in with Chemosh’s devotees. The horror of watching a ghoul leap on the face of your mount and begin to consume it alive is more than most knights could bear. You get attached to your mounts. You look after their welfare and they look after you. That is, unless the cursed undead make an appearance.
That first engagement was enough to raise the bile from most knights’ stomachs. And the screams of the horses, hell, it was more than some knights could take. The ambush caught the Ina by surprise. They were a week into the Midraths. That damn Bone-Seer must have spies in the Lordcity. It’s the only reason his Icodio could figure they knew about the path they were taking. But spy or no, it didn’t change the fact that the Divine Hammer was a force to be reckoned with. Once the majority of the horses were under assault by ghouls, their pale gray flesh hanging off their lifeless corpses, and their crazed yellow-rimmed eyes fierce with purpose; the knights responded in kind, and quickly. Yes, a few fell under their mounts as they reared in shock and panic, but many more knights leapt off their mounts’ back with practiced skill and engaged the dead with expert training.
These undead beasts turned a few of the horses, but to the last one, they all died–again. Cassian was convinced they intended to only take the horses, forcing the Ina to finish the passage over the Midrath range on foot through the already dense snow. If that was the case, they succeeded. This slowed their progress to a crawl, but if the Bone-Seer thought to end them by freezing them to death, he didn’t take into account the fire that was lit within each Knight of the Divine Hammer; a fire that burned with the purpose granted by the Kingpriest himself. They made short work of the ghouls, but the toll was taken. So now, nearly a week and a half later, the Ina saw neither hide nor hair of the cult or their undead. Some troops secretly wished the ghouls had been the entirety of the enemy, until this morning’s briefing by their Icodio. They wished it were true, but they were not foolish enough to truly believe it.
Darian and Cassian fell in line as the Ina formed up and began marching out. The Scatas, or troops from Istar, were assigned to scout ahead and clear the way for the knights. With the frozen and freezing snow knee-high at this point, their job was understandably not completed. The few clerics that were assigned to the Ina were hard at work, protecting the entire squadron from the elements as they made their way down the mountain. An hour into the day’s trek they made their first contact.
Bears do not generally confront an entire Ina, even if starved, but this mother grizzly and her two cubs were not in a state to be mindful. They had been turned, and they were hungry. They attacked the end of the line, Darian heard the deafening roar as did everyone else, but he was the first to react. “By the Kingpriest’s holy light, they’re turning beasts now!” The vile undead beast charged and lunged at one of the clerics, Lance, Darian believed; by the time Darian broke ranks and ran to the rear of the line, the cleric was face down in the snow, painting the freezing white snow red with his blood. The snow initially started to melt from the heat before refreezing into a gore-fueled liquid mess.
Breathing heavily, Darian unsheathed his two-handed sword, a gift from the order, and called to the other knights to form a perimeter and drag the corpse behind them. Cassian wasn’t far behind when the bear took a swipe with its mighty paws, striking Darian across his armored cheek which protected him from its razor sharp claws. The sheer force of the blow threw him to the ground. As the bear began to leap forward Cassian stepped over Darian and placed his shield between himself and the beast, digging his feet into the snow and leaning forward with his full weight. Whatever Cassian believed this tactic would do, it didn’t, as the bear clenched its terrible jaws on the edge of the shield and tossed it to the side with Cassian attached.
Darian, shook his head to get the snow out of his eyes, and tried to pull his sword up between himself and the undead bear, but the bear landed heavily on his chest, twisting the straps of his armor, and pinning him into the snow as its fetid breath consumed his world. Darian was certain that this was his end. But his fellow knights reacted with skill, striking with spears, swords, and pics. The creature’s attention was driven away from Darian as Cassian got back up, unsheathed his sword and buried it into the monster’s back. A roar that threatened an avalanche shook the mountain as the bear reared back onto its hind legs. It stood twelve feet high if an inch, looming over everyone present. Its cubs were rushing other knights in the distance, causing minor damage, but they were faring infinitely better than Darian and company. Darian finally got to his feet, intending to bury his blade into the undead bear’s chest, but the great beast swiped with its paw to bat away the sword, and instead, the massive paw fell to the earth with another deep roar.
The knights quickly formed up and attacked in ranks and within minutes that seemed like hours, the undead bear’s vile unlife faded from its eyes, as its gore painted the mountain and snow. Icodio Kaelos called for everyone to form up, knowing the scavengers of the range would surely come to the scent of fresh blood. The Scatas made a stretcher and loaded the cleric onto it. Darian’s guess was right, it was Lance that fell. May the Light Bringer guide his soul home, he thought. They had no time to mourn however, they had to move on and get off the mountain as quickly as possible. Funerals for the dead were a luxury, a luxury the Order could ill afford.
Breathing heavily Cassian turned to Darian. “Do you believe that thing? Why are they turning the animals? By Chislev, is nothing sacred to them?”
“You know better than to think they hold anything sacred Cassian.” Darian responded, adrenaline slowly draining him of his will to continue trudging through the snow. “As long as we find this damn coven soon, we can put an end to this heresy once and for all.”
“May Kiri-Jolith guide our blades.”
“Stifle that chatter men!” Icodio Kaelos called out. “Our voices carry on the back of this wind, alerting everything in a mile or so of our presence. If you knights want to make it home in one piece, shut your traps!”
Everyone followed the order, and all dialog turned internal. Darian’s focus returned to fonder memories.
He stumbled into the empty shack he and Amara were squatting in just after their union. It was freezing outside, and the snow was being whipped up and stormed through the door as he entered. The small fire they had in the fireplace was little comfort to the couple, but Amara’s smile at his return was enough to push it out of his mind.
“What took you so long?” she wondered aloud.
“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to make a deal when you have nothing to barter with but your back. I cut a few cords of wood for Mr. Handers for this feast.” Darian held out a small parcel containing a half a loaf of bread and a few slices of salted pork. This was a feast for the two. The impoverished had to make do with what they had, and this was more than they’d had most nights.
“It looks wonderful. Here, come sit next to me and warm up. You’re shaking.”
“It’s nothing, my love. We’ve seen worse winters.”
They sat next to their dwindling fire and ate their modest meal, dreaming of a better future in the dancing flames. Amara whispered “Will it ever get easier for us?” She quickly put on a smile and wiped the moisture from her eyes in the hopes Darian wouldn’t notice, but he did. He always did.
“I know this is not what you imagined when I told you that I would take care of you forever.”
“It’s not that…”
“I understand Amara. I want to lift us out of this state as much as you do, and I think I have found an opportunity.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Kingpriest is accepting orphans into his militia.”
“The Divine Hammer?”
“Yes. I could join up, I’m strong. I would send my monthly allowance to you and in a couple years, we would have enough to leave the Empire for good. We could start anew in Ergoth, as a Lord and his Lady.” It was a dream, he knew, but it could happen, couldn’t it? Amara stared deep into his eyes, the amber hue of her eyes reflecting his desire and her pupils dilated in response.
“I thought they didn’t allow married men into the order?”
“Well… they don’t, but they don’t have to know…”
“You mean, you would live a lie?” she pulled back.
Rushing to ease her concern Darian said “It’s only a small lie to them, what does it matter? It would mean we could have a future.”
“But it means you would have to deceive them for years. Could you live with that lie in your heart, for years?” Amara asked.
“The only thing in my heart is you. I would do anything for you. I would burn this entire town down if you only asked me to.” Darian’s certainty in his statement scared Amara. She was sure he didn’t truly mean it.
“But what am I to do without you?”
“Mistress Farns was looking for a seamstress, perhaps you could help her.”
“What do I know about that?”
“You could try… couldn’t you?” His eyes pleaded with her as his hands met hers in her lap. She turned toward the dying fire. “Yes, I am a fast learner.”
“That’s the spirit!” Darian replied, “I will leave on the morrow, and our lives will change, I promise. It will only be Khurish roast duck and Silvanesti Cabernet from now on.” He wanted to believe it. He wanted his belief to overpower her rational mind. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, turning toward him again with that beautiful smile of hers. “Yes. You’re right, of course. I will miss you.”
“I’m not gone yet.” Darian leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. Their eyes met and passion welled up within them. Their meal forgotten, they embraced each other forgetting all about the raging snowstorm outside.
The wind had picked up on the mountain and Darian was pulled back to his reality to the calling of his name. Looking around he found himself in a near whiteout. The wind must have picked up in his reverie. Dim shapes of men in the distance called out to him. Damn, I must have wandered off. I have to focus, these mind-slips will be the death of me. He began to move toward the sound of their voices when he saw what looked like a cave overhang obscured in the mountainside. Their descent on the south eastern side of the Midraths had proved fruitless as they searched for the rumored Ruins of Garzine–the ruins where the Cult had taken residence to engage in their hit-and-run tactics turning the nearby towns residents into the walking dead. Slaves in their war against the Divine Hammer.
Darian called back to the shadows shouting his name in the distance. In time, they materialized through the snow and Darian pointed to the overhang. The clerics confirmed they were in fact ruins, possibly from some long dead ancient race. Icodio Kaelos asked Darian “How did you know it was here?”
Without missing a beat, Darian responded. “I just saw something in the distance.” A miracle in the whiteout, but no one cared, for the entrance to the cult stood directly in front of the Ina, and they hoped a possible end to this campaign now lay within their grasp. Staging their gear and their fallen a quarter mile up the mountain, concealing it as best they could, the Ina descended the mountain again and entered the ruins. They lit their torches, one for every two knights, and slowly made their way inside.
The cavern looked to be cut from forged tools rather than a natural cavern made from erosion. Every movement seemed to announce themselves to the possible inhabitants as they slowly made their way down the initial steps, fanning out at the landing and exploring every hallway on their way inexorably deeper into the ruins. How the cultists saw in this dungeon was beyond Icodio Kaelos’ reckoning. The overpowering scent of death and decay, mixed with a healthy dose of mold, was a deterrent that caused more than one of the knights to lose their morning meal.
What seemed to be an hour of exploration led deeper down into the mountain. The sound of running water and chanting drew the Ina’s attention. Clerics whispered to the Icodio that these were prayers to Chemosh, the god of death, and the Icodio turned to his Ina whispering. “Knights. This is our chance. We will enter the chambers ahead and you will strike down every body that twitches. Do not wait to hear a response. Do not ask anything of them. Just cut these unholy monsters down before they can turn their vile spells of Death against you. Do you understand?”
Fear filled every knight’s eyes as they stared back, understanding full well what it would mean for them to follow that order out. They had seen the women and children the cult turned before–wasted and rotting, they charged with fury in their eyes and deadly purpose in their nails and teeth. The horror was more than most could bear. But they had no idea if there were any down here. Perhaps they were simply worshiping. Perhaps it was only cultists.
No one truly believed that, but each knight tried to convince themselves of the possibility as they slowly unsheathed their swords and doused their torches. The clerics cast spells of sight on the knights so that they could see in the darkness without alerting their enemies. As they moved forward, the drone of the prayers increased. It was more of a chant than a traditional prayer, and it rose in pitch and ferocity as they drew nearer. They entered a vast, dimly lit chamber, held aloft by giant pillars supporting the ceiling at two dozen foot intervals. The wasting cultists looked like bags of skeletal bones in their robes as they prayed on their knees, and then the sounds of crying broke the silence between their chants. The crying of children as their endless hunger drove them to the scent of oil from the knights armor and weapons. The chanting ceased immediately as the Hierophant at the far end of the chamber turned from his altar, smiling at the knights’ shadowy forms as they raced into the dimly lit room, striking the adherents at the back of the congregation beside the braziers. These braziers not only provided scant light, but also the scent of frankincense to conceal the smell of death all around them.
The crying children surrounded the Hierophant as he began to call out to Chemosh, summoning a spell that could only mean doom for the knights. “Hrac-dain Sziiri Quor…” Darian and Cassian moved to the left side of the chamber, Darian knocked over a brazier which threw coals onto a couple of the still kneeling cultists. They screamed as the coals burned their clothes and bodies. The cultists threw off their robes and pulled small rusted sickles from their belts. Charging forward with curses flying from their mouths, Darian cut the first cultist down as the second sliced his hand. Darian forced his shoulder into the second man and he stumbled back from the blow. He turned his blade on him, slicing his stomach open. The cultist fell muttering something about rising anew.
The knights were fighting against the priests, and though they were outnumbered, they seemed to be making quick work of them. Suddenly a magical darkness covered the entire room. Plunged into blackness, many knights called out for their Icodio, who only told them to keep fighting. This led some knights to fall under the swords of their brothers before their clerics could dispel the darkness which shrouded them. But that darkness was innocence incarnate, for when it lifted they saw the mess they had made of their brothers first hand. And then the children rushed forward. Rage filled their little eyes, pain wracked their tiny bodies, and the knights couldn’t help but stagger back a few steps at the horror of the sight.
The screams of the children were silenced by the casting of a spell by the Orders’ clerics, trying to prevent further spells from being turned against them by the Hierophant. But the frenzy of the children’s faces as they leapt at the knights, and the tears in the knights eyes as they had to cut the children down, was made all the worse for the silence of it all. Darian was silently screaming, lost in battle lust as he kicked one child in the face, bringing his sword down onto its tiny, twisted body. The gore splashed on Cassian who winced at the silent horror of it all. Cassian was staggering, open mouthed, silent cries of shock escaping his lips at the sight of his brothers slaughtering the children. The silent black mouthed guffaws of the Hierophant at the end of the hall made the scene all the more terrifying. He was actually enjoying this.
As the knights were turning the tide against the children attacking them, the fallen cultists bodies began to spasm on the floor. The deep shadows cast visible motion against the pillars and floor of the vast chamber, drawing the attention of the knights, distracting them from their awful duty. The dead were returning to life! A young girl leapt at Darian, impaling herself on his blade with the act, but she just pulled herself closer to him gripping his armor. Her other hand, filthy and diseased, shot forward like a spear, digging into his right eye through his helmet, and a silent scream escaped his lips.
Cassian saw this out of the corner of his eye, and as Darian fell underneath the vicious assault, Cassian ran to him, filling his fist with the child’s hair, and pulling back with all of his might. A snap was felt, but the silence buried the sound, and the child was flung to the floor. Cassian instantly dropped a knee onto the chest of this undead girl and began to punch her, making a mess of her face, as she continued to claw at him well past the point she should have stopped from death. Darian staggered to his knees, crawling over beside Cassian. He pressed a hand to his friend’s shoulder. Cassian blinked, regaining some composure. Darian grabbed a rusty scythe from the floor—and with grim determination, severed the girl’s undead head.
Tears flew from his eyes and a silent moan escaped his lips. He could deal with killing evil men, they made their choices. He could live with lying to his superiors and the Kingpriest about being married, it was truly none of their business. But this? This was too much to stomach. Darian turned to look at his friend, and Cassian was holding his face in his hands, rocking back and forth, his chest heaving through stifled sobs. The chamber filled anew with the risen cultists.
Cassian was tackled by two of them as Darian quickly scanned the vast chamber. The knights were all doing their best to manage the newly risen dead and the children still assaulting them. His Icodio was screaming something but the magical silence concealed his words. Darian’s eyes followed the line of Kaelos’ arm and he saw the Hierophant slinking off into an adjoining room. As more undead crowded the space between them, Darian stumbled his way toward the Hierophant, cutting down cultists and children with renewed rage. He began whispering a silent prayer to Amara as his mind separated from the brutal actions of his body. The prayer died on his lips as he entered the room and saw and heard the Hierophant commanding even more undead into the fray.
With fists pumping into the air in defiance, his thin voice screeched out with a delayed and haunting echo. “Your mighty lord Chemosh commands you to destroy the holy knights of self deceit! Tear them limb from limb and indulge in your eternal hunger!”
Darian’s eyes scanned the crowd of desiccated faces, landing on one that even in its horrifying recognition brought a twisted memory of love to his mind.
Darian flashed to his youth where an amber eyed girl smiled at him after he gave her the apple he stole only moments before. This little freckle nosed girl quickly leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Darian knew at that moment he wanted to marry Amara; this simple gift cemented itself in his heart.
His mind couldn’t distinguish that memory from what was happening now, as his beloved Amara, now dead, lunged at him with her arms outstretched. Darian dropped his sword as tears flowed anew. He cried out a single word—“Amara!”—and her body hit him.
He fell back to the ground too weakened in disbelief as she ripped his helmet violently from his head. Blood, sweat and tears stained his face as Amara sank her teeth into his cheek. Darian flashed back to their wedding night.
He and Amara lay in the darkness under a gifted fur blanket. Their naked bodies kept them warmer than the furs ever could. They stared into each other’s eyes and the sheer passion, the true love they felt for each other brought tears to their eyes, and they lay there, silently crying while meeting each other’s loving gaze.
He slowly wrapped his arms around her as she tore the flesh from his face with her teeth. Darian’s last words were an affirmation, a mantra that kept the lie he was living at bay—words that, in and of themselves, would be meaningless to anyone else, but meant everything when spoken to Amara. As the last seconds of his life fled from him, obscured by the violent tugging of his remains and the screams of the hungry dead all around him, Darian whispered “I love you.”
