A tiny chessboard has been carved into it. As my eyes narrow, Raz points to the left corner, where another board has been carved. Then he nods at a tomb four rows over. A large, intricate board has been painted over the center of this one, the name of the deceased worked in among the black and white squares.

“The Boards are key to the process,” Raz says. “We created them out of material drawn from the Crux. Modeling them after the Kah-Gash, we created mini-universes of sixty-four zones. Once a species evolves to a certain point, we isolate their souls and take them into a Board, so that they can develop at an accelerated rate. We also teach them about the origins of the universe, the Kah-Gash and the Demonata, the need to reach for the stars, to fight for the future of the universe.”

“How come I don’t know all that?” I ask.

“You have an undeveloped brain,” Raz says, then raises his hands as I bristle. “I mean humans in general. You have not evolved to the point where you can make sense of all that we taught you. Every species is the same. It takes time to work your way through the mysteries of life.” Raz grimaces. “Humans will never complete that journey. The Demonata will cut short their growth. Universal understanding is not to be yours.”

I blink and look away, stomach tightening. I spot something far overhead. I think it’s a falling star, but as I focus I realize it’s a spaceship. Unlike the floating city, this looks more like the rockets I’ve seen in movies and on the covers of science-fiction books.

“A glorified hearse,” Raz says.

We watch in silence until the ship settles out of sight beyond the ranks of tombs. “Can we go and see the burial?” I ask.

“No,” Raz says. “I have something else to show you.”

He leads me through a maze until we come to a black, round stone. Its edges are as smooth as a polished gem’s. It’s set in a small pit, circled by a number of large tombs. Candles burn around the edges of the pit, but they’re not normal candles—the wick doesn’t burn down and the flames never flicker in the soft wind.

There’s a magical buzz coming from the stone. My fingers curl inwards and my nostrils widen. Magic floods my pores.

“It’s another lodestone,” I note.

“Yes,” Raz says. “Beranabus thought the stones were of our making but they are actually the remains of planets from the original universe. Most were reduced to dust, but fragments of some survived and drifted through space, sometimes burying themselves in the fabric of freshly forming worlds.

“The stones were charged with the magic of the original universe. We used them to travel swiftly from one planet to another. They acted as universal markers, guiding us, allowing us to cross vast expanses of space swiftly. Unfortunately the lodestones could be used to serve the forces of evil as well.” Raz laughs bitterly. “We never guessed that the species we assisted might prove as vicious as the demons we hoped they would fight.”

“Mages used lodestones to open windows to the Demonata universe,” I groan.

“We assumed this universe’s creatures would care primarily for their own,” Raz says. “But many craved power. Each world produced individuals with magical talent. Most used their power to do good, but some became tyrants. They crushed their enemies and ruled with a monstrous authority.”

“You could have stopped them,” I growl.

“And replaced them?” Raz asks wryly. “Established our favorites as rulers? No. We were determined to guide, not rule. We looked on with despair as the rotten few caused misery for millions. But we never intervened. Every species must be free to make their mistakes, enjoy their triumphs, lament their catastrophes. That is our fundamental belief.”

Raz sighs again. “The windows were bad enough, but then some used more powerful lodestones to create tunnels and entire civilizations fell. We realized more would follow, that the Demonata would cross in greater numbers and spread. We thought about shutting the project down.” He chuckles humorlessly.

“Why didn’t you?” I frown.

Raz shakes his head. “You don’t realize what that would have entailed. We had visited millions of worlds. There were billions of intelligent beings scattered through the universe. We’d have had to—”

“—kill them all,” I finish hoarsely.

Raz nods. “That was not an option, so we dismissed it. Besides, the demons could not ruin every world or kill every living being. It was physically impossible. The Demonata might destroy much, but not all. Life would continue, even when we were gone.

“That changed sixteen hundred years ago.” Raz’s features darken. “We had pressed on with the program. All looked positive. But then, on your world, an insignificant, unremarkable girl altered everything. She turned the laws of life on their head, and introduced a new player to the game, one who could guarantee victory for the Demonata.”

I gulp. “You’re talking about Bec, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Raz says angrily.

“And the new player?” I ask.

He stares at me heavily, then says, “Death.”

“What are you talking about?” I mutter. “According to Art, death always existed, even in the original universe.”

“As a force,” Raz says. “Death was like time or gravity. It was simply a thing that happened. Bec changed that. First she stole a piece of the Kah-Gash from Lord Loss. Then—”

“From Lord Loss?” I interrupt, startled. “Art said the pieces never turned up in demons who were alive before the Big Bang.”

“They don’t,” Raz says.

“Then Lord Loss isn’t one of the major demons?” I whisper. The demon master is by far the most powerful foe I’ve ever faced. If there are others even stronger than he…

“There are many greater than he is,” Raz says gloomily, “but he has a unique power. The piece of the Kah-Gash nestled within him for thousands of years. That’s why he alone of the masters is able to cross freely between universes.

“When Bec unconsciously stole Lord Loss’s piece of the Kah-Gash, it was cause for wonder—that had never happened before. But then she did something even more incredible. When Lord Loss killed her, her soul remained.

“Death has always meant the end. When a body dies, the soul moves on, maybe to another realm, maybe to be reincarnated, maybe to nothingness—we can only guess. But no soul ever cheated death.”

“Bec was just a ghost,” I mutter. “Ghosts are nothing new.”

“Ghosts are shadows of the living,” Raz says. “They’re after-images of people, like the temporary glow a light leaves when it’s quenched. Bec was different. She was fully conscious, memories intact, a complete spirit.”

I shrug. “She’s part of the Kah-Gash. She used her power to stay, just as Lord Loss used it to cross universes. What’s the big deal?”

“Death was an absolute,” Raz snaps. “The Kah-Gash had no control over it. All beings had to answer death’s summons. Until Bec.”

The rocket we saw touch down rises with a roar that shakes the tombs around me. I think the structures are going to shatter, but as the rocket parts the clouds and powers away from the planet, they settle down again.

“We don’t know how Bec cheated death,” Raz says softly. “We’re not sure if she chose to remain, or if the Kah-Gash kept her, aware of the side effects.”

“What side effects?”

Raz is silent a moment. Then he moves away from the lodestone, through the tombs, back to the chamber. As I follow, he speaks.

“Death was a force, but when Bec defied it, that force developed a mind. It became aware of itself, the universes, its role. And unfortunately it reacted with anger.”

“This is madness,” I grumble. “Death’s not a person. It can’t react.”

“It can now,” Raz disagrees. “It constructed a body. Prior to Bec, beings died and souls passed on. But the new Death has the power to harness souls. It can deny them passage to whatever lies beyond. It built a huge, shadowy body out of—”