Page 45

"Archer?" I snapped, immediately on alert. I'd never seen him react that way to anything.

His face had gone ashen, those ice-blue eyes wide with shock, and unmistakable recognition. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, it can't be."

"What?" Callum demanded. "What did you see?"

Archer swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "The Shadow Beast," he said, his voice barely audible.

Sierra drew in a sharp breath. "You know what it is?"

"I... I thought it was just stories. Nightmares my mother told to frighten us when we misbehaved." Archer ran a hand through his raven-dark hair, visibly trying to collect himself. "But what you saw... it matches the descriptions perfectly. The formless shape, the chittering voices that become one, the promises of possession..."

"What exactly is this Shadow Beast?" I asked, my tail lashing more violently behind me. Anything that could shake Archer this thoroughly was cause for serious concern.

"A legend," Archer said. "An ancient entity that exists in the spaces between realms. Neither living nor dead. Neither demon nor angel nor fae. Something... other. Older than all of us, perhaps older than the realms themselves."

"Your mother spoke of this creature?" Callum asked, leaning forward with interest. He and Archer shared a complicated history, but in this moment, they were united in their concern.

Archer nodded. "She said it fed on fear and chaos. That it sought to break down the barriers between realms, to create asingular darkness where it could reign supreme. But I always thought..." He trailed off, shaking his head again. "I always thought it was just to scare us into behaving. A cautionary tale."

"Clearly not," I growled, pulling Sierra closer protectively. My claws had emerged without my conscious intent, black-tipped and razor-sharp against her pale skin. I forced them to retract, not wanting to harm her.

"But why Sierra?" Callum asked, voicing the question that was uppermost in my own mind. "Why show itself to her now?"

"I don't know," Archer admitted. "The stories never specified how it chose its... targets." He hesitated over the word, clearly not wanting to use it.

"What did the stories say about how to fight it?" I asked, already strategizing. I'd faced countless enemies over my long existence. This would be just one more.

But Archer's expression gave me pause. "They didn't," he said quietly. "The stories never had heroes who triumphed over the Shadow Beast. They only had victims."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Sierra had stopped crying now, though she remained pale and shaken in my arms.

"That's not acceptable." My voice hard with determination. "I don't care what the stories say. Nothing threatens what's mine."

"Ours," Callum corrected softly.

I inclined my head in acknowledgment. "Ours."

Sierra looked between us, some of the terror leaving her eyes, replaced by a fragile hope. "You believe me, then?"

"Of course we do," I said, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "And we will protect you. The beast spoke falsely. Our bond is not weak." To demonstrate, I reached for that glowing thread that connected us, the one forged in our claiming ritual. It pulsed strong and vital between us.

Sierra's shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you," she whispered. "I was afraid... I thought you might think I was losing my mind."

"Never," Callum assured her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Archer remained troubled, his daggers now back in his hands, twirling faster than usual. "We need to know more," he said finally. "If this thing is real—and I believe it is—then we need to understand what we're facing. The stories my mother told weren't exactly detailed battle plans."

"How do we learn more about something that's supposedly just a legend?" Callum asked.

I considered this. As ruler of the underworld, I had access to knowledge most did not. Ancient texts, forgotten lore, souls who had witnessed the birth of creation itself.

"We start in the underworld library," I decided. "If this Shadow Beast is as old as Archer suggests, there may be records of previous encounters. It holds the most extensive records, even more so than that of the Dark Fae."

"I'll consult with the older fae," Callum offered, not rising to acknowledge the implication his library being shit. "Some of our elders remember the time before the split of the realms. If this creature predates even that..."

Archer nodded. "And I'll..." He hesitated, a shadow crossing his face. "I'll try to reach out to my mother."

That was surprising. Archer rarely spoke of his angelic parent, much less suggested contacting her. The fact that he was willing to do so now spoke volumes about the severity of the situation.