The first sign that something was wrong came three nights later.

Eva woke to screaming.

Not the distant kind drifting endlessly through the Underworld.

Real screaming.

Close.

The sound ripped violently through the palace corridors, followed by a shockwave strong enough to rattle the windows in her chambers.

Eva shot upright in bed immediately.

“What now?”

Blue fire burst suddenly across the hearth.

The shadows beneath her door twisted violently.

Then the palace bells began ringing.

Low.

Heavy.

Urgent.

The sound echoed through the entire fortress like a warning dragged from the throat of something ancient.

Eva stumbled out of bed, pulling a dark robe tightly around herself.

The moment she opened the chamber doors, chaos slammed into her.

Servants raced through the corridors carrying silver weapons and black lanterns. Guards sprinted toward the lower staircases with drawn blades while distant explosions shook the palace beneath them.

One terrified servant nearly collided directly into Eva.

“My lady!”

“What happened?”

“The southern sanctums were breached!”

Wonderful.

That sounded horrifying immediately.

Another violent tremor shook the corridor.

Black dust drifted from the ceiling overhead.

Far below the palace, something roared.

Eva froze.

That sound—

She recognized it.

A Devourer.

Or something worse.

The servant looked moments from collapse.

“The Court was attacked,” she whispered. “The dead are breaking containment.”

Excellent.

The Underworld apparently had prison riots.

Eva grabbed the nearest terrified guard by the sleeve as he rushed past.

“Where’s Acheron?”

The guard looked genuinely confused by the question.

Then another explosion shook the palace hard enough to crack one of the corridor windows.

“…Right,” Eva muttered. “Of course he’s where the disaster is.”

The lower sanctums were worse than anything she imagined.

The deeper she descended beneath the palace, the colder the air became. Silver alarms pulsed through the walls while shadows whipped violently through the corridors like living storms.

The scent hit her first.

Blood.

Not human blood.

Something colder.

Stronger.

Divine.

Eva slowed instantly.

Every instinct in her body reacted sharply.

Then she heard fighting.

Not ordinary fighting.

The sound of stone shattering.

Metal screaming.

Magic tearing reality apart.

The final staircase opened into the southern sanctum—

And the world exploded.

A massive chamber stretched beneath the palace foundations, now half-collapsed into ruin. Black pillars lay shattered across the floor while silver fire consumed entire sections of the walls.

Creatures poured from a fracture in the far side of the chamber.

Not souls.

Not guards.

Things.

Long skeletal bodies wrapped in black smoke, crawling across walls and ceilings with too many limbs and glowing blue mouths.

Several palace guards already lay dead.

Or worse.

And at the center of the destruction stood Acheron.

The Lord of Death looked terrifying.

Not calm terrifying.

Not controlled terrifying.

Violent terrifying.

Shadows erupted around him in enormous waves as silver-blue fire spread beneath his feet. Every movement shattered stone. Every gesture destroyed something.

One creature lunged toward him.

Acheron caught it by the throat one-handed and crushed it instantly into ash.

Another attacked from behind.

The shadows impaled it before it reached him.

Eva stared openly.

“…Well,” she whispered faintly, “that’s upsetting.”

Then she saw the blood.

Black.

Silver-lit.

Running slowly down Acheron’s side.

Eva froze.

No.

That could not possibly be right.

Gods were not supposed to bleed.

Acheron staggered slightly as another creature slammed into the protective barrier surrounding the sanctum. The entire chamber shook violently.

The guards looked terrified.

Not of the monsters.

Of him losing control.

Interesting.

And deeply concerning.

One of the creatures broke through the shadows suddenly and lunged toward a wounded palace soldier trapped beneath fallen stone.

The guard screamed.

Acheron turned instantly—

Too late.

Eva moved before thinking.

Which, admittedly, explained most of her recent life choices.

She grabbed a fallen silver spear from the floor and drove it directly into the creature’s side just as it reached the trapped guard.

The monster shrieked violently.

Eva nearly lost her grip.

“Oh, absolutely disgusting—”

The creature whipped toward her immediately.

Blue jaws opened.

Sharp teeth.

Far too many eyes.

And then—

The chamber went silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

The creature froze.

Every shadow in the sanctum stopped moving.

Eva looked up slowly.

Acheron was staring at her.

Not the creature.

Her.

The silver in his eyes had become terrifyingly bright.

The heartbeat beneath the contract slammed hard enough to hurt.

Then the Lord of Death moved.

The shadows exploded outward across the chamber in a violent black wave.

Every creature touching the floor disintegrated instantly.

Ash flooded the air.

The remaining monsters shrieked and retreated toward the fracture.

Acheron crossed the sanctum in seconds.

One moment he stood across the chamber.

The next he stood directly in front of Eva.

His hand closed sharply around her wrist.

Heat exploded violently through both of them.

“What,” he said dangerously quietly, “are you doing here?”

Eva blinked at him.

“Oh good, you’re alive. That’s apparently becoming emotionally inconvenient for me.”

Blood continued running slowly down his side.

The sight felt wrong.

Impossible.

Acheron followed her gaze downward.

His expression darkened immediately.

“It is nothing.”

“That is objectively blood.”

“It will heal.”

“Yes, well, currently it’s leaking all over your terrifying coat.”

Another tremor shook the sanctum.

The fracture in the far wall continued pulsing violently with silver-blue light.

Guards scrambled around them carrying wounded soldiers while shattered shadows crawled across the ruined floor.

But somehow—

Despite all of it—

Acheron’s attention remained fixed entirely on Eva.

Like the fact she stood there unharmed mattered more than the war happening around them.

Interesting.

Terrible.

Very interesting.

Eva looked again at the wound along his ribs.

The black fabric beneath his coat had been torn open. Silver-black blood glimmered beneath the fractured armor beneath it.

Without thinking, she reached toward him.

Acheron went completely still.

Every shadow in the chamber froze again.

Eva grabbed the torn edge of his coat and pulled it aside slightly.

The guards nearby immediately looked horrified.

Apparently touching the God of Death during combat violated several laws of existence.

“Well,” Eva muttered, studying the wound, “this is unpleasant.”

Acheron’s voice came low and dangerous above her.

“You should not touch me.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I am aware.”

“You’re also impossible.”

The silver in his eyes darkened sharply as her fingers brushed near the wound.

Heat surged violently through the contract.

The heartbeat beneath it became unbearable.

Acheron’s grip on her wrist tightened.

Not enough to hurt.

Enough to warn.

Eva ignored it completely.

“Sit down.”

Silence.

One nearby guard looked seconds away from fainting.

“My lady,” he whispered hoarsely, “you cannot command—”

“Be quiet,” Eva said automatically.

The guard obeyed immediately.

Interesting.

Acheron stared at her for several long seconds.

Then, impossibly—

The Lord of Death sat.

The entire sanctum froze in shock.

Eva tore a strip from the edge of her robe without hesitation and pressed it carefully against the wound beneath his ribs.

Acheron inhaled sharply.

Not from pain.

Something worse.

Something that made the shadows around them shake violently.

Eva frowned upward.

“…You do realize this is the least intimidating anyone has ever looked while being bandaged.”

His silver eyes locked onto hers.

The hunger there nearly stole her breath.

And suddenly she understood something dangerous:

The Underworld had feared Acheron for thousands of years because he was death itself.

But no one—

No one—

Had ever cared whether he bled.