Harrow looks down into her cavalier's face. "The Second Death," she says.

"I know what it is, Griddle," she says, discarding a great deal of ambiguity and uncertainty and projecting convinction. "It is the destruction of the soul; the consumption of the spirit."

"I know you do not care to understand my necromantic preoccupations, but it is relevant now. If I fail in the Lyctoral process--at least, as I currently understand it--I could destroy myself. There is no enemy hiding in her words but me."