The mortal world smelled wrong.

That was Eva’s first thought the moment she crossed back through the veil.

Not unpleasant.

Not corrupted.

Just unbearably alive.

Sunlight spilled across the city streets in soft golden waves while distant traffic hummed somewhere beyond rows of crowded buildings. Wind carried the scent of rain-soaked pavement, bakery bread, flowering trees, and human life moving endlessly forward without noticing eternity had nearly collapsed beneath it.

Eva stood motionless at the edge of the veil crossing with one small travel bag hanging from her shoulder.

And for the first time in weeks—

No shadows followed her.

The absence hit harder than expected.

The contract beneath her wrist pulsed faintly.

Distant.

Muted now.

Like the bond between worlds strained painfully through separation.

Eva swallowed carefully.

The morning sunlight hurt her eyes.

That felt ridiculous.

She used to love sunlight.

Didn’t she?

The thought unsettled her immediately.

Memory loss had become crueler lately because she could no longer trust which parts of herself were still real. Some emotions remained vivid while details around them disappeared entirely.

She remembered loving summer.

But could not remember why.

She remembered laughter.

But not whose.

The emptiness left behind those missing pieces felt larger here somehow.

The mortal world should have comforted her.

Instead it felt unfamiliar.

Too loud.

Too bright.

Too temporary.

Eva crossed the crowded street slowly while humans moved around her without noticing anything strange. Office workers carried coffee cups. Children laughed near a bus stop. Somewhere nearby music drifted through an open apartment window.

Normal life.

Ordinary life.

She should have wanted this.

Instead all she could think about was how quiet the Underworld gardens sounded at night.

The realization irritated her deeply.

A black car slowed beside the sidewalk.

Eva froze instinctively before realizing no shadows surged toward the vehicle.

No danger.

Just human.

The passenger window lowered slowly.

A woman leaned out immediately afterward.

“Eva?”

Recognition struck seconds later.

Clara.

Her sister’s neighbor.

Or perhaps friend.

The memory arrived fuzzily now, blurred around the edges like old photographs left too long in rain.

Clara’s expression shifted from surprise into concern almost instantly.

“Jesus, what happened to you?”

Eva forced a small smile.

“Long story.”

That answer turned out to be incredibly effective because normal people generally stopped asking questions after hearing it delivered with visible emotional exhaustion.

Clara stepped out of the car immediately.

“You vanished for weeks. Your landlord thought you disappeared completely.”

Weeks.

Interesting.

Time moved differently beneath the veil again.

Eva tightened her grip slightly around the travel bag hanging from her shoulder.

“How’s Sofia?”

The question escaped instantly.

Automatically.

Clara’s expression softened.

“She’s recovering.”

Relief hit Eva hard enough to weaken her knees briefly.

Good.

At least the contract had not taken that yet.

Not her sister.

Not completely.

Clara continued watching her carefully.

“You look pale.”

You should see the people I’ve been living with lately, Eva almost answered.

Instead she simply nodded weakly.

“I’m tired.”

That part, at least, remained true.

The apartment felt unbearably small after the palace.

Eva noticed it immediately upon stepping inside.

Not because it lacked comfort.

Because it lacked eternity.

The ceiling suddenly seemed too low. The walls too close. Mortal silence too fragile compared to the endless breathing shadows of the Underworld palace.

Even the air felt thinner somehow.

Clara left after helping her settle inside with groceries and worried glances. The moment the apartment door closed behind her, silence flooded the tiny rooms completely.

Real silence.

Not shadow silence.

Not palace silence.

Ordinary human quiet.

Eva stood motionless in the middle of the apartment for several long moments.

Then slowly crossed toward the windows overlooking the city.

Sunlight warmed the glass beneath her fingertips.

Nothing answered her touch.

No shadows curled instinctively around her wrists.

No contract warmth pulsed stronger in response.

Nothing.

The emptiness inside her chest widened painfully.

No.

Absolutely not.

She was not going to miss the Underworld.

That sounded psychologically catastrophic.

Eva turned away from the window sharply and unpacked her small belongings instead.

The process lasted less than ten minutes.

Because most of what mattered remained below the veil.

The realization settled heavily into the room afterward.

By evening, the silence had become unbearable.

Eva tried distracting herself.

She showered.

She attempted reading.

She even turned on the television for background noise before realizing modern commercials felt surreal after surviving gods, corpse tides, and ancient abyssal entities.

Nothing worked.

Because every quiet moment left space for the same terrible awareness:

Acheron was gone.

Not dead.

Worse.

Absent.

The contract beneath her wrist pulsed weakly sometime after midnight.

Eva froze instantly.

Warmth spread softly beneath her skin.

Familiar warmth.

Lonely warmth.

Her chest tightened painfully before she could stop it.

“Acheron?”

The name slipped quietly into the empty apartment.

No answer came.

Of course not.

Still, the contract pulsed again afterward.

Faint.

Distant.

Like a heartbeat echoing through deep water.

Eva closed her eyes briefly.

This was ridiculous.

She had spent her entire life fearing monsters beneath the dark.

Now she missed the one wrapped in shadows.

The realization felt humiliating.

And worse—

It felt true.

The following days only made everything harder.

The mortal world continued moving forward around her while Eva remained trapped slightly outside it.

Sunlight still felt strange.

Food tasted dull.

Human conversations exhausted her almost immediately.

People complained about traffic and bills and terrible coworkers while part of Eva kept thinking:

The abyss beneath death itself once spoke directly into my mind.

Nothing felt proportioned correctly anymore.

Three days after returning, Eva stood in a crowded grocery store staring blankly at rows of cereal boxes because she suddenly could not remember which one Sofia liked best.

Panic hit instantly.

The contract.

Another memory gone.

Not huge.

But personal.

Eva gripped the shopping cart tightly while fear crawled through her stomach.

No.

No, no, no.

She forced herself to breathe slowly.

Think.

Chocolate cereal.

No—

Strawberry?

The harder she tried remembering, the more the memory dissolved.

Tears burned sharply behind her eyes.

Right there between canned soup and breakfast food.

Gods.

This was becoming unbearable.

A shadow moved beside her.

Eva looked up instantly.

Nothing stood there.

Only an exhausted man reaching for coffee.

Still—

For one impossible heartbeat—

She could have sworn she smelled winter smoke and black roses.

Acheron.

The absence afterward hurt almost physically.

That night, Eva dreamed of the Underworld again.

Not the abyss.

Not the Court.

The hidden garden.

White flowers drifted softly through silver moonlight while shadows moved quietly beneath ancient trees. Acheron stood near the fountain dressed entirely in black, watching her with that same unbearable expression he always wore right before admitting truths he wished he could survive denying.

“You are unhappy here,” he said quietly.

Eva looked down at her hands.

“I thought this was supposed to save me.”

The shadows around the garden stirred softly.

“And did it?”

She opened her mouth.

No answer came.

Because somewhere along the way, the mortal world had begun feeling emptier than death itself.