After the Court froze, the palace stopped pretending Eva was ordinary.

Not publicly.

No one openly bowed to her. No one called her queen or spoke her name with reverence.

But the fear changed.

Before, the Court feared what Acheron might do because of her.

Now they feared what she herself might become.

The difference settled quietly into every corridor she walked through afterward.

Servants no longer met her eyes for long. Guards stepped aside before she reached them. Even the shadows throughout the palace behaved differently now, lingering around her feet with strange awareness.

Like the Underworld had started recognizing her.

Eva hated it immediately.

Mostly because she was beginning to recognize it too.

Three nights after the throne hall confrontation, she woke from a dream she could not fully remember.

Not unusual lately.

The contract still consumed memories slowly, though the process had become inconsistent. Some mornings she lost only tiny details. Other days entire conversations blurred at the edges before she could hold onto them.

But this dream felt different.

Important.

Eva sat upright in bed breathing hard while darkness pressed heavily against the palace windows.

Something remained.

A sound.

Not words exactly.

A voice beneath water.

Calling her name.

The contract beneath her wrist burned sharply.

Not warmth.

Direction.

Eva frowned immediately.

“No,” she muttered aloud. “Absolutely not. We are not doing mysterious magical visions tonight.”

The feeling intensified.

Something beneath the palace was pulling at her.

Not physically.

Anciently.

Like recognition.

Eva stared toward the chamber doors while unease crawled slowly through her chest.

Then, against every surviving instinct she possessed, she got dressed and followed it.

The lower palace corridors remained nearly empty at this hour. Silver fire drifted silently through black stone halls while distant thunder rolled somewhere beyond the Underworld sky.

The contract guided her deeper.

Past the throne sectors.

Past the sealed sanctum gates.

Past areas even the palace servants avoided mentioning.

Interesting.

That generally meant horrible things.

The deeper Eva traveled, the stranger the palace became. Ancient carvings spread across the walls here, older than the Court symbols above. Unlike the elegant silver architecture of the upper halls, these markings looked rougher.

Older.

More primitive.

Not symbols of gods.

Warnings about them.

Eva slowed near a massive iron gate at the end of the corridor.

The shadows beneath the doorway twisted violently the moment she approached.

Then the gate opened on its own.

“Oh, that is never comforting.”

The chamber beyond swallowed light.

A vast stone staircase spiraled endlessly downward into darkness while cold wind rose from somewhere impossibly deep below.

Not ordinary cold.

Living cold.

Eva stepped carefully onto the stairs.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the palace sounds vanished entirely.

No whispers.

No thunder.

No movement.

Only silence.

The staircase continued downward for what felt like hours.

The contract beneath her wrist pulsed steadily now, pulling her deeper with every step. Strange symbols appeared carved into the stone walls beside her, glowing faintly silver beneath the darkness.

She recognized none of them.

But somehow—

Part of her understood them anyway.

The realization unsettled her more than the darkness.

Eventually, the stairs ended.

Eva stepped slowly into an enormous underground cavern and forgot how to breathe.

The abyss stretched endlessly beneath the palace foundations.

Not metaphorically.

Actually endlessly.

The cavern walls disappeared into darkness so deep her eyes could not follow them. Black water churned far below while silver mist drifted across ancient stone bridges suspended over nothingness.

And at the center of the abyss—

A mouth opened in the world itself.

Not a cave.

Not a tunnel.

A wound.

Massive black fractures spread outward from the opening while silver light pulsed slowly beneath its surface like something alive breathing under skin.

Eva stared at it in horror.

The contract beneath her wrist burned violently.

The abyss answered.

The silver light deep inside the fracture brightened instantly.

No.

Not the contract.

Her.

The realization struck hard enough to stop her moving entirely.

Something beneath the abyss recognized her.

Ancient whispers drifted upward from the darkness below.

Not language.

Memory.

Images crashed suddenly through Eva’s mind.

A burning city.

Silver crowns shattered across black stone.

A woman screaming beneath falling fire.

And somewhere inside the chaos—

Golden eyes identical to hers.

Eva staggered backward sharply.

Pain ripped across her skull.

The visions vanished immediately.

“What,” she whispered breathlessly, “was that?”

The abyss pulsed again.

The silver mist throughout the cavern began moving toward her.

Not randomly.

Intentionally.

The shadows surrounding the bridges recoiled violently from the mist as though afraid.

Eva’s pulse stumbled painfully.

No.

No, absolutely not.

The contract burned hotter.

The abyss answered faster this time.

A voice rose faintly from beneath the fracture.

Not spoken aloud.

Inside her mind.

Child of the veil.

Eva froze completely.

The cavern shook violently.

Stone cracked somewhere deep below while black water surged against ancient pillars.

The voice came again.

Not mortal.

Not human.

Older than gods.

You were never meant to cross into death.

Fear crawled sharply down Eva’s spine.

She stepped backward instinctively.

And the abyss moved.

The silver fracture widened slightly beneath the darkness while ancient symbols ignited across the cavern walls all at once.

Then someone grabbed her wrist.

The entire cavern exploded with shadows.

Acheron.

The Lord of Death appeared beside her in a violent surge of black power, silver eyes blazing dangerously bright beneath the darkness.

And for the first time since meeting him—

Eva saw genuine fear on his face.

Not for himself.

For her.

“What did you hear?” he demanded sharply.

Eva stared at him breathlessly.

“The abyss spoke to me.”

Silence crashed through the cavern.

The shadows around Acheron froze instantly.

His grip tightened painfully around her wrist.

“That is impossible.”

“Well,” Eva snapped shakily, “it apparently disagrees.”

The abyss pulsed again beneath them.

This time the entire cavern trembled.

Acheron looked toward the fracture slowly.

And Eva realized something terrifying.

The Lord of Death was afraid of it too.

Not merely cautious.

Afraid.

The silver cracks beneath his skin glowed faintly beneath the darkness while the abyss continued pulsing like a heartbeat beneath the world.

Then the voice returned one final time.

Louder now.

Close enough to hurt.

Bring her deeper.

Acheron moved instantly.

The shadows exploded violently around them while the cavern shook hard enough to split stone bridges apart. Without another word, he pulled Eva sharply against him and opened a rift of black shadow directly through the air itself.

The abyss screamed.

Not metaphorically.

Actually screamed.

The sound followed them into darkness as Acheron dragged her out of the cavern.

And the last thing Eva saw before the shadows closed completely was the silver fracture below beginning to open wider.