“That was a brilliant decision, young one,” Dorin Sen said, clapping Yechvan on the shoulder. “You executed your plan to perfection. Leaving the bantax in reserve, sending your best soldiers to the left flank and then cutting the Perysh force in twain and rendering their shield guard useless. You have a gift for seeing the battle before it plays out. You truly are a marvel.”

  “Where am I?” Yechvan replied, raising a hand to his throbbing head. From the flat of his back, he stared up at an endless, colorless void. The world was veiled in grey, as if a fog had crept in and taken root. “What are you doing here, shudo?”

  “I am here to test you.”

  “Test me?”

  The old human’s salt-and-pepper hair was tied in a topknot. He wore his usual garb and terse expression. He even sat as he always had, legs folded beneath him. But he had been mortally wounded in full armor, so why was he wearing robes? Where was the gaping wound in his breast from Zu’s yari, the ethereal blood that dissipated when it touched the ground?

  “Your goddess, she asked if I would do her a favor,” he said.

  “Koruzan? Why? What favor?”

  Dorin Sen winked. “She asked if I would do what I’ve always done. Show you the way.”

  Yechvan had a hundred hundred questions. He wanted to ask where he needed to go, but his Five Nations mentor enjoyed being cryptic. Instead, he settled on, “You still haven’t told me where we are.”

  “What did I teach you about questions that aren’t readily answered?”

  “You most likely don’t have the answer yourself.”

  Yechvan dragged himself into a sitting position with Dorin Sen’s help. More spirits than usual buzzed around the drab land, busily going or coming. What in the hells did ghosts need to do that was so pressing? Beyond the sea of spectral bodies, sparse pecan trees dotted the hills. A rock outcropping in the distance resembled a wyrm with its wings folded into its body. Solonia was nowhere to be found, nor was Hlenice for that matter. The sky was the color of stone dust, a chalky, dull grey sprinkled over the heavens.

  The northern general studied a Thrice board, thumb and forefinger straddling his broad chin. His tanned skin had taken on the same lifeless hue as his surroundings, but his eyes remained honey brown, intense and keen. He leaned back and yawned loud and deep before returning to his repose. “I think red takes it in three moves.”

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  Yechvan studied the board. “I agree. Was that my test?”

  Dorin Sen shrugged, tearing his gaze away to meet Yechvan’s.

  “You were sent here to test me, but you don’t know?”

  “Perhaps this is a test for me as well.”

  Yechvan struggled to his feet and looked around. His head swam as he was met in every direction with images of men and women who had died following his orders, friends, family, Dorin Sen, all dead. Exhausted, he rubbed his temples with gentle fingers, but his mind railed against the idea of rest. Little jolts of nervous energy jittered through his arms and legs, and yet he felt strangely removed from his body. There was no pain from the countless injuries he’d sustained. Nothing felt real. Nothing looked real. He stepped toward an open door. Had it been there this entire time?

  Dorin Sen clicked his tongue like he used to when he disapproved of a decision Yechvan was about to make.

  Yechvan turned to him. “Should I not go through?”

  “I am not here to tell you what to do.” His shudo smiled.

  Yechvan’s focus drifted again to the door. From the void beyond, something beckoned him to join. A finger, a voice—he couldn’t be sure. The space teemed with familiar people, but no one looked the same as he remembered. All the life had drained from their faces, all the light disappeared from their eyes.

  “Am I supposed to stay here with you?” Yechvan’s said. His irritation mingled with the stale air and caused sweat to bead on his brow.

  Again, he shrugged. “We are not given instruction on how to live this life, are we, Yog?”

  “Why would you call me that?”

  “It is a term of endearment and respect. Why do you dislike it so?”

  “Because I don’t deserve such praise. I never have. I never will.”

  “Why do you believe that?”

  “So many have suffered and died under my command. Gru,” Yechvan said, his longing gaze wandering to the door once more. He yearned to set down the weight of his guilt, his exhaustion, his defeat.

  “Do not give up, young one,” Dorin Sen said. “Never give up.”

  Yechvan’s bitter laugh was mocking, derisive. “How can you tell me that? You sacrificed yourself to end the Great Northern War. How can you be here, giving me advice? You are dead because of me. Don’t you understand? You are dead because of me.”

  “I am dead because our people went to war. You just happened to be on the other side.”

  “But I gave the order to—”

  “You cannot take all the credit,” Dorin Sen interrupted. “Or the blame. I chose to duel your friend. I knew I would lose. Though, I honestly thought I would prove to be more of a challenge.” A weak smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “But I would not have put any of my soldiers in that position. Zu is touched by the gods. There is no single person alive who can best him. I saw him fight in our final battle, saw the way he moved. I watched as he cut down dozens of my people, risking danger but for a second. No matter who among my men fought that fateful day, Zu Bu would not have lost. I chose to stand against him because I was disgraced. It was the only way to surrender with my honor intact. Zu told you it is folly to shoulder all the responsibility, all the blame. He is wise.”

  “I know he is right, but it’s easy for him to say when I am the one haunted.”

  “Then perhaps you are meant to travel the more difficult path. The treacherous path. The spiritual path. That does not mean your friend will not walk in stride beside you. If a true friend he be, your path is his path.”