Unfazed, she continued to stare at him, unbothered by the doubt and venom in his tone.

They want nothing more than to be at peace, Melinoë said with casual ease.

She had dealt with difficult spirits before, those seeking revenge, those filled with anger. They were nothing to her, easily dispatched should they refuse to go peacefully. The ghost realm was hers to rule, to guide. There was no doubt in her about such things.

At his comment about her interest, a ghost of a smile tugged at her maw. No. You are far too alive for me to be of any use to you in that capacity.

Again, it was stated so flippantly, as though it were casual conversation for the wraith. Saffron eyes danced with light amusement. His way of speaking intrigued her. Where had she heard such language before?

Before her thoughts could wander too far, he made a very valid point.

I do not know. This land has been stealing souls, deity and mortal alike. It would seem my corporeal form has been taken from me. Alas, I am as mortal as you are presently.

Any other god might have felt anxiety, panic at that realization. Melinoë, however, felt only curiosity. She had spent millennia among the living and the dead. She had seen much.

The only true adapting she now faced was tending to the needs of a mortal body, something she already found quite tedious and time-consuming.