Real, and divinely beautiful. Sleep drags at me, but I struggle to keep my eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of my death. I wonder how the god will summon my soul from my body, and if it will hurt the way it does when ogres steal a soul. I wonder if he will take my spirit to the Land Beyond, curse me to the Pit, or force me to live out another mortal existence, this time as a vulture, or a Carn fish, or a maggot, or something equally miserable in order to pay for the mess I’ve made of my human life. “A fifty-fifty chance and I get the wrong one.” The god laughs bitterly as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “Should have flaming known.” I try to ask what he means, but all I manage is a moan. “Waking up, then, are you?” He glances down at me where I lie, wrists chained to a metal ring the Boughtswords drove deep into the ground. “How you feeling, little man?”
