Qebhet bit her lip. She'd seen no trace of Ronan's akh, though she'd looked for it when she'd gone to collect the body, and again when she'd tended to his open wounds, after she'd learned who he was. "I don't know where he is," she said apologetically. "Not every soul lingers after death. It depends on... belief, mainly."
If Ronan hadn't believed in shades, he probably wouldn't have become one. There were rare exceptions – the convictions of the bereaved, if they were especially strong, could be enough to tether even an unbelieving soul to the world – but that was usually how it worked.
If he had believed in the Greek afterlife, he might have descended at once to Hades and the banks of the Acheron. Or he might have fought the inexorable pull of death – the belief in spirits with unfinished business was fairly widespread. Perhaps he was following Kaden's journey even now, a watchful presence, unable to help, unwilling to leave.
But she didn't want to burden Marcie with that kind of speculation. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more."