Page 48

When we emerged from the bathroom, we found Rowen pacing the length of the floor. "Let's go," he stated simply, then disappeared from view.

I grasped Sierra's hand and snapped my fingers, taking us to Rowen's private glade, a place where we wouldn’t be disturbed and could speak in private.

It was a feature of his chambers that always fascinated me. Somehow, my brother had captured a piece of living forest within the heart of the underworld. Lush grass carpeted theground, and ancient trees reached toward a ceiling enchanted to mimic the night sky, complete with stars and a waning moon.

It was a slice of the Fae realm within the underworld. Something that had always surprised me.

Rowen moved like a caged predator, his tail still materializing and lashing behind him, a sign of just how agitated he truly was. He rarely allowed his demon features to show so obviously unless we were in battle or in bed.

He stopped abruptly when he saw us, his dark gaze sweeping over Sierra with an intensity that almost made me jealous. Almost. The bond between the three of us had rendered such petty emotions largely obsolete.

"Better?" he asked.

Sierra nodded, unconsciously leaning into my side. "Yes. The shower helped."

"Good," Rowen said curtly. "The library is prepared. I've already dispatched servants to pull the oldest texts."

I kept my hand firmly wrapped around Sierra's as we followed my brother through the twisting corridors of his palace. The architecture of the underworld was a study in contrasts. Brutal angles softened by unexpected curves, darkness illuminated by soft, ambient light that seemed to have no source. It was disorienting by design, meant to confuse and intimidate visitors.

But I'd spent enough time here when I was a child and teen to navigate with ease, though I noted with some amusement that Sierra was careful to stay close.

"Have you ever encountered anything like this Shadow Beast before?" Sierra asked Rowen as we walked, her voice steady despite the gravity of her question.

My brother shook his head, the movement sharp and precise. "No. But the underworld has records that predate myfather's rule. If this creature exists, there will be mention of it somewhere."

"And if there isn't?" I asked.

Rowen's obsidian eyes flicked to mine, a century of rivalry and uncomfortable kinship passing between us in that single glance. "Then we create a new record. Beginning with how to destroy it."

We emerged into a vast courtyard, one of the few open spaces in Rowen's realm where the artificial sky stretched wide above us. Instead of the perpetual night that covered most of the underworld, here the celestial ceiling showed the first hints of dawn, a deliberate choice on my brother's part, I suspected, to provide Sierra with some comfort after her ordeal.

"This way," Rowen said, gesturing toward a monolithic structure at the far end of the courtyard.

The Library was impressive. A towering edifice constructed from what appeared to be solidified ash, compressed over millennia into a substance harder than stone. No windows broke the smooth façade, and a single set of obsidian doors marked the entrance. Above them, carved in a language older than time, was an inscription I'd never been able to fully translate, though I recognized warnings about knowledge and power.

Sierra's steps faltered slightly as we approached. "It feels... alive," she whispered.

I tightened my grip on her hand. "In a way, it is. The library contains the collective knowledge of souls who've passed through the underworld. Their memories, their experiences, all preserved."

"Not just any souls," Rowen added, placing his palm flat against the door. It recognized him instantly, the obsidian surface rippling like water at his touch. "Only those with knowledge worth preserving."

The doors swung inward silently, revealing a cavernous space that seemed to defy the physical dimensions of the building. Shelves stretched impossibly high, disappearing into shadows overhead. Books, scrolls, tablets, and artifacts I couldn't begin to identify lined every surface. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient paper and something else – something that reminded me of thunderstorms and ozone.

Several of Rowen's servants, souls who had pledged themselves to his service in exchange for privileges in the afterlife, moved efficiently among the stacks, their translucent forms glowing faintly in the dim light.

"I've instructed them to search for any mention of entities that exist between realms," Rowen explained. "Particularly those that manifest as shadows or feed on fear."

Sierra had begun to look more like herself, eyes widening with wonder as she took in the impossible library. Her natural curiosity was reasserting itself. A good sign.

"Can I help?" She stepped forward. "I might recognize something that reminds me of what I saw."

Rowen nodded, gesturing toward a large circular table at the center of the room where several ancient texts had already been placed. "Start there. The translations appear automatically as you read, a feature of the library itself."

I followed Sierra to the table, never releasing her hand. The protectiveness I felt wasn't unusual. I'd appointed myself her guardian from the moment we'd met, but it had intensified a hundredfold since she'd awakened screaming. The thought of anything threatening her, especially something I couldn't simply dispatch with a blade or spell, filled me with a cold rage I hadn't experienced in centuries.

She must have sensed my thoughts, because she squeezed my fingers gently. "I'm okay," she murmured. "Really. I'm feeling better."

"Good," I said, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. "But I'm not letting go all the same."