Page 28

The shadow path wasn't what I expected. Rather than the cool mist Archer had described, it felt like stepping into a dream. Weightless. Timeless. With whispers at the edge of my consciousness. Darkness pressed against me from all sides, not threatening but curious, as if the shadows themselves weresentient and wondering what living thing dared to walk among them.

I couldn't see Archer or Rowen, but I felt their hands clasping mine, anchoring me as we moved through the nothingness. Occasionally, glimmers of light would appear in the distance. I felt the souls pulsing from the lights. But they felt like nothing I'd ever encountered.

A rich blue light illuminated, and I felt drawn to it. But before I could think about my actions, Rowen stopped me. Whispers reached my ears, the language ancient and foreign.

"Sierra," Rowen's voice cut through the shadows, sharp and commanding. "Focus on me. On us."

I shut my eyes, though in the absolute darkness it made no difference, and concentrated on the feel of their hands in mine. The voices faded.

After what could have been minutes or hours, Archer slowed.

"Here," he said softly. "This is the entrance to Callum's private sanctuary."

Before us, a doorway of silver light shimmered into existence. Unlike the lights, this one seemed to ripple and shift, like sunlight on water.

"It's beautiful," I whispered.

"Like calls to like," Archer replied cryptically, then stepped forward, pulling us through.

The transition was jarring—from absolute darkness to brilliant light, from weightlessness to solid ground. I stumbled, my eyes watering as they adjusted to the change. Then I gasped.

We stood in what could only be described as a living cathedral. Towering trees formed natural pillars, their trunks wider than I could have encircled with my arms, rising hundreds of feet into the air where their branches wove together to create a canopy roof. Sunlight filtered through in dappled patterns, highlighting the riot of flowers that carpeted the forest floor injewel tones—sapphire blue, ruby red, amethyst purple, and gold so bright it seemed to glow from within.

"This is... incredible," I breathed, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. The air itself seemed alive, laden with fragrance and a subtle hum of magic that vibrated against my skin.

Yet beneath the beauty, I sensed something else—a faint undercurrent of wrongness, like the lingering scent of smoke after a fire has been extinguished. Through my tenuous bond with Callum, I could feel it more clearly—this place was healing, recovering from a long illness that had nearly destroyed it.

"It wasn't always like this," I murmured. "It was dying while the old king was sick, wasn't it?"

Rowen's jaw tightened. "Yes. The Fae realm is directly tied to its monarch in ways even the Underworld is not. When my father died, it nearly took this place with him, even though he was a demon. But since he was bonded to the King and Queen, it did severe damage. But losing Maxiun had to be devastating for the realm, even though Callum was right there to take over.

"It's healing now," I said, reaching out to brush my fingers against a nearby flower. It seemed to lean into my touch, its color intensifying. "I can feel it through Callum."

Archer moved ahead of us, his posture alert, fingers constantly drifting toward the hilts of his daggers. His eyes never stopped moving, scanning the trees, the shadows, even the seemingly innocent flowers at our feet.

"It's beautiful, yes," he said, noticing my appreciative gaze. "But don't be fooled. The Fae are masters of creating deadly beauty. That flower you just touched? In the wrong season, its pollen can paralyze a full-grown man within seconds."

I snatched my hand back, eyeing the innocent-looking bloom with new wariness.

"The people here are the same," Archer continued as we followed a winding path deeper into the forest. "Exquisite,alluring, and absolutely lethal when they wish to be. Trust no one except Callum."

"Especially not the court ladies," Rowen added darkly. "They'll smile while sliding a knife between your ribs."

"Charming," I muttered. "Remind me again why we're so eager to reach this place?"

"Because Callum needs us," Archer replied simply. "And because you need him."

As if on cue, a wave of heat rippled through me, making me stumble. The bond with Callum pulsed, stronger now that we were in his realm. I could feel him more clearly. His pain, his determination, and underneath it all, a fierce longing that mirrored my own.

Suddenly, a rustle from the trees ahead had Archer stepping in front of me, daggers appearing in his hands so quickly I hadn't seen him draw them. Rowen's stance shifted as well, his human appearance flickering as his more demonic aspects threatened to emerge.

A Fae sentry stepped onto the path, his armor gleaming like liquid moonlight. His face was inhumanly perfect, with high cheekbones and eyes the color of spring leaves. Those eyes widened in shock as they fell on Rowen.

"Lord Rowen," he gasped, immediately dropping to one knee in a formal bow. "My lord, we—we had no word of your arrival."

"That was the intention," Rowen replied coolly.

The sentry's gaze darted between the three of us, lingering on me with obvious curiosity before snapping back to Rowen in poorly concealed fear.