Damsul rose only when permitted. He never met Rezok’s eyes unless commanded.

  “They survived,” Damsul continued. “The boy. The dragonborn. The falcon. All of them.”

  “I know,” Rezok replied.

  “You sound… pleased.”

  Rezok finally turned.

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  “Tell me, Damsul,” he said, stepping closer. “Do you know why death exists?”

  Damsul swallowed. “To end suffering. To balance life.”

  Rezok laughed softly. “No.”

  He raised a hand, and the space between them distorted—visions flashing. Births. Wars. Civilizations rising, then rotting from within.

  “Death exists,” Rezok said, “because some things refuse to end on their own.”

  Damsul’s voice trembled. “And Danny Demon?”

  Rezok’s smile widened.

  “He is one of those things.”