The hospital shadows screamed because Acheron had entered the mortal world fully.

Not partially.

Not through dreams or weakened veil crossings.

Fully.

And reality itself hated it.

The lights overhead burst one after another down the corridor outside Sofia’s room. Nurses shouted somewhere in the distance while black frost spread silently across the hospital windows.

Eva stared at him in shock.

Acheron stood motionless near the far corner of the room while shadows poured around his boots like smoke escaping a wound. The silver cracks beneath his skin glowed brighter here beneath mortal air, spreading visibly along his throat and hands as though this world rejected his existence.

Or perhaps he rejected it first.

Sofia looked between them weakly from the hospital bed.

“…You know him.”

Eva opened her mouth.

No answer came immediately.

Because how exactly did one explain:

This is the god of death currently destroying reality because he’s worried about me.

Acheron solved the problem himself.

“Yes.”

His voice rolled softly through the room like distant thunder beneath winter ice.

Sofia blinked slowly.

Interesting.

Most mortals should have been terrified instantly.

Instead her fever-bright eyes narrowed slightly.

“You’re the one from the dreams.”

The shadows around the hospital monitors twisted sharply.

Acheron’s gaze shifted toward her carefully.

“You can see me clearly.”

Not a question.

Observation.

Sofia frowned faintly.

“Shouldn’t I?”

The silence afterward turned dangerous immediately.

Eva noticed it.

So did Acheron.

Because ordinary mortals were not supposed to perceive death gods properly once the veil weakened.

Something about Sofia remained wrong too.

The realization settled coldly into Eva’s stomach.

Acheron crossed slowly toward the hospital bed.

The shadows followed him instinctively through the sterile white room while frost crept across the tile floor beneath his footsteps.

Every machine nearby began malfunctioning immediately.

Wonderful.

Excellent medical atmosphere.

Eva stepped directly into his path before he reached Sofia.

“What’s happening?”

Acheron looked at her.

And suddenly Eva realized something horrifying.

He looked worse than before.

Much worse.

Crossing fully into the mortal world had damaged him somehow. The silver cracks beneath his skin now spread visibly beneath one side of his face while the shadows around him behaved less like servants and more like starving creatures barely restrained.

But his attention remained entirely fixed on Sofia.

“The plague changed,” he said quietly.

Eva’s chest tightened.

“How?”

Acheron’s gaze shifted briefly toward the hospital corridor beyond the door.

“Because the abyss found a path into the mortal world.”

The sentence hollowed the air from the room.

No.

Absolutely not.

Eva shook her head immediately.

“That’s impossible.”

“The impossible ended the moment spring entered death.”

The contract beneath her wrist burned violently.

Truth.

The Underworld and mortal world were no longer separating cleanly.

The boundaries had started bleeding together.

And somehow—

She was standing at the center of it.

Sofia stirred weakly against the hospital pillows.

“The dreams are getting worse.”

Eva turned instantly toward her.

“What dreams?”

Her sister hesitated.

Then quietly:

“There’s a city under the earth.”

The shadows in the room froze.

Acheron went perfectly still beside her.

Sofia’s fever-glazed eyes drifted toward the dark hospital windows.

“Everything there is broken,” she whispered. “And something keeps calling your name.”

Eva felt the blood drain slowly from her face.

Because she knew that city.

The abyss.

The fractured kingdom beneath death itself.

Sofia should not have seen it.

Unless—

No.

No, that thought was too impossible even now.

Acheron moved suddenly toward the hospital window.

The shadows around him surged violently outward while silver light flashed briefly beneath his skin.

Eva followed his gaze.

And her stomach dropped.

Outside the hospital, the city had gone unnaturally dark.

Cars sat abandoned across the streets below. Streetlights flickered violently while black mist drifted slowly between buildings like smoke rising from invisible fires.

People wandered through the roads aimlessly.

Not dead.

Not alive properly either.

The plague had spread.

No.

It had awakened.

The contract beneath Eva’s wrist pulsed harder than ever before.

Then pain exploded through her skull.

Eva gasped sharply and stumbled backward against the hospital bed.

Another memory vanished instantly.

This one enormous.

She forgot her mother’s face.

Not entirely.

Just enough to hurt.

The outline remained.

The warmth remained.

But the details disappeared into emptiness.

“No.”

The word escaped brokenly.

Acheron crossed the room instantly.

His hands caught her before she collapsed fully against the floor.

Fear flashed openly across his face.

“What did it take?”

Eva pressed trembling fingers against her temple desperately trying to hold onto fragments already dissolving.

“I can’t remember her eyes anymore.”

The silence afterward nearly destroyed him.

Eva saw it happen.

Something inside Acheron cracked visibly beneath the grief on his face.

The shadows around the room surged violently while frost exploded across the hospital walls.

And then—

The world stopped.

Not metaphorically.

Actually stopped.

Every sound outside the hospital vanished completely.

The traffic.

The alarms.

The city.

Gone.

Even the shadows froze.

Acheron looked up sharply toward the ceiling.

The expression on his face turned instantly dangerous.

The air in the room distorted.

And suddenly—

Someone else stood there.

Not entering through the door.

Appearing.

A woman draped in ancient silver robes materialized beside the hospital windows while divine light bent unnaturally around her.

One of the elder gods.

The same goddess from the judgment hall.

Her gaze settled immediately on Eva.

Cold.

Ancient.

Knowing.

“There it is,” she whispered softly.

Eva’s pulse stumbled painfully.

The goddess stepped closer slowly.

“The thing hidden beyond death.”

The shadows around Acheron exploded instantly.

“Leave.”

The single word cracked the hospital walls.

But the goddess ignored him completely.

Her eyes remained fixed entirely on Eva.

Then quietly—

Almost reverently—

“She remembers the world before endings.”

The sentence hit like lightning through Eva’s skull.

Images exploded violently behind her eyes.

A burning golden kingdom.

Ancient gates beneath white suns.

A little girl laughing beside black water while stars fell from the sky.

And a voice—

Not human.

Not divine.

Calling her another name.

Not Evangeline.

Older.

The vision shattered instantly.

Eva staggered sharply against Acheron’s chest while panic ripped through her ribs.

“What is happening to me?”

The goddess finally answered.

Not cruelly.

Not kindly either.

Like someone speaking a truth buried too long.

“You were never mortal.”

Silence crashed through the hospital room.

Even the shadows seemed afraid afterward.

Acheron’s arm tightened protectively around Eva instinctively.

The goddess looked at him with something almost resembling pity.

“The gods feared this long before your kingdom existed,” she said quietly. “A soul untouched by death itself.”

Eva’s breath shook.

No.

Impossible.

The contract beneath her wrist burned white-hot now while ancient whispers rose faintly through the room again.

Child of the veil.

The goddess took one final step forward.

And in a voice soft enough to break worlds apart, she revealed the truth the abyss had waited centuries to awaken:

“Evangeline… you are something that should never have survived creation.”