After spring appeared in the Underworld, Acheron disappeared.

Not physically at first.

He still attended Court assemblies. He still ruled the lower sanctums. The palace guards still froze whenever he crossed the throne hall.

But something inside him had withdrawn completely.

Eva noticed immediately.

Of course she did.

The contract between them no longer pulsed with restless warmth whenever he entered a room. The shadows still followed her through the palace, but now they behaved strangely—hesitant, uncertain, like abandoned hounds waiting for commands that never came.

And Acheron himself stopped looking at her.

Not casually.

Deliberately.

The avoidance became impossible to ignore by the fourth day.

At breakfast, he positioned himself at the far end of the enormous black dining table despite the fact that the room itself practically required architectural planning to cross. During Court meetings, he never once turned his head toward her side of the throne platform.

Once, in the western corridor, Eva caught him stepping backward into shadow the moment he realized she was approaching.

That one irritated her personally.

By the seventh day, she was furious.

Lucien found her in the library attempting emotional violence against an ancient history book.

“You’re glaring at that page like it insulted your family.”

Eva slammed the book shut.

“It probably did. Everything in this kingdom feels emotionally hostile.”

Lucien sat across from her beside the fireplace with the deeply unfortunate expression of someone trying not to laugh.

“He’s avoiding you.”

“I noticed.”

“He looks terrible.”

“That part concerns me significantly less.”

Lucien raised one eyebrow slowly.

Eva sighed heavily and dropped her forehead against the table.

“Fine,” she muttered into the wood. “It concerns me slightly.”

“Tragic.”

“I dislike your personality enormously.”

“That’s fair.”

The library shadows curled lazily around Eva’s chair while silver rain drifted beyond the enormous windows overhead. Since the flowers bloomed at the eastern river, the entire Underworld had started changing in small impossible ways.

The palace no longer felt entirely dead.

White vines spread slowly along ancient stone walls. Pale flowers appeared in abandoned corners overnight. Even the silver river beneath the palace reflected faint traces of blue sky some mornings before fading again into darkness.

The Court hated it.

Eva considered that a personal achievement.

Lucien leaned back in his chair.

“The nobles believe you corrupted the throne.”

“Wonderful. I always wanted political enemies.”

“The lower sanctums disagree.”

Eva looked up immediately.

“What does that mean?”

Lucien’s expression shifted slightly.

“The dead stop screaming when you walk near the gates now.”

Silence followed.

The contract beneath Eva’s wrist pulsed softly.

Not hungry.

Sad.

The feeling unsettled her immediately.

She had noticed it too lately.

Something inside the Underworld reached toward her constantly now. Not the abyss exactly. Something larger.

Lonelier.

And somehow—

Acheron had grown colder ever since the flowers appeared.

No.

Not colder.

Afraid.

The realization settled heavily into her chest.

Lucien stood slowly.

“He’s in the northern tower again.”

Eva frowned.

“How do you know that?”

“He breaks things when he goes there.”

That felt alarmingly specific.

Lucien moved toward the library doors before pausing briefly.

“For what it’s worth,” he added quietly, “I’ve known him longer than anyone in this palace.”

Eva waited.

Lucien’s gaze shifted toward the rain-dark windows.

“I’ve never seen him frightened before now.”

Then he left.

The northern tower looked worse than the last time.

The moment Eva stepped through the ancient iron doors, she understood immediately that something had gone very wrong.

The chamber smelled like burned stone.

Several statues lining the walls had been reduced entirely to rubble now. Deep fractures spread across the floor while silver-black shadows crawled violently through the cracks like wounded things.

And at the center of the destruction—

Acheron stood motionless before the shattered remains of a massive mirror.

Not ordinary glass.

Ancient silver.

Its broken surface reflected distorted fragments of the chamber beneath flickering stormlight.

Eva slowed carefully.

“Acheron.”

He did not turn around.

The silver cracks beneath his skin had spread farther again.

They crawled visibly across his throat and hands now, glowing faintly beneath the darkness like something alive trying to break free.

The contract beneath Eva’s wrist burned painfully the moment she stepped closer.

Wrong.

Everything about him felt wrong tonight.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.

“Well, unfortunately everyone keeps telling me that right before emotionally catastrophic conversations.”

Silence.

The shadows throughout the chamber twisted violently.

Eva moved closer anyway.

Then she saw the mirror.

Or rather—

What remained inside it.

The silver surface reflected Acheron standing alone in the ruined chamber.

Except the reflection moved differently.

Its shadows writhed unnaturally beneath cracked skin while silver-black darkness spread across its face like rot consuming flesh.

And behind the reflection—

Eva lay dead.

Acheron’s shadow-self knelt beside her body covered in blood while black power consumed the entire palace around him.

The image vanished instantly.

Eva froze.

The chamber went deathly silent.

Slowly, Acheron turned toward her.

And for the first time since meeting him—

She looked directly at the thing he feared becoming.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

The hunger inside him no longer looked merely dangerous.

It looked starving.

Acheron’s silver eyes locked onto hers.

“I saw myself kill you.”

The words landed softly.

Quietly.

And somehow far worse because of it.

Eva stared at him.

“What?”

“The mirror shows the truth beneath fate.”

His voice remained calm.

Too calm.

Like someone speaking about their own execution.

Acheron looked briefly toward the shattered silver glass.

“In every future where you remain beside me,” he said quietly, “something inside me eventually chooses you over the balance of death itself.”

The shadows around the chamber recoiled violently.

Eva’s pulse stumbled painfully.

“Acheron—”

“I destroyed kingdoms once.”

The confession cut sharply through the room.

Not loud.

Not defensive.

Honest.

Stormlight flashed across the chamber windows while silver cracks glowed beneath his skin.

“I buried cities beneath the veil because grief made me cruel,” he continued. “I became death because I could not survive being anything else.”

Eva’s chest tightened.

The loneliness in his voice hurt worse than anger ever could.

Acheron stepped backward from her slowly.

Deliberately.

Distance again.

Control.

Except this time it looked less like restraint and more like surrender.

“The abyss recognizes you,” he said quietly. “The throne changes around you. The dead answer your presence.”

The contract pulsed sharply between them.

Pain.

Fear.

Love twisted too tightly into something dangerous.

“And I—”

He stopped speaking.

Not because he lacked words.

Because the truth itself frightened him.

Eva realized it anyway.

The beast beneath his skin was not violence.

Not death.

Not hunger.

It was devotion powerful enough to destroy the world protecting her.

Acheron closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened them again, the silver had gone cold once more.

Controlled.

Final.

“You must stay away from me now.”

The words struck harder than they should have.

Eva stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

The answer escaped immediately.

Instinctively.

Acheron’s jaw tightened visibly.

“You do not understand what I become near you.”

Eva stepped toward him.

The shadows around the chamber surged instantly.

Possessive.

Desperate.

“I understand that you’re terrified.”

“I am not terrified for myself.”

There.

That honesty again.

Devastating honesty.

The storm outside cracked violently across the sky.

Acheron stepped backward once more into shadow.

And for the first time since entering the Underworld—

Eva realized the Lord of Death feared love more than he had ever feared eternity.