Page 2

The wind howled with the force of a bellowing god .

A heavy, thick breath rushing over a gnarled realm of skeletal trees and churning up bruise-colored dirt.

A stark contrast against the amber-gold hue of the sky.

The jaundiced twilight remained constant despite a fresh wave of turbulent energy radiating too thick, too adhesive through this sector of the realm.

A foul burst of magic stinking of rot and death, pouring as slow as sap through the mist, sticky and evoking dread.

A snapping wind whipped the edges of my cloak into a frenzy.

I peered over the edge of the jagged ravine stretching toward the horizon.

An unnatural pulse hummed underfoot as the land reacted to the plague of dark magic creeping into Infernus.

Cracks had appeared in the past week, oozing virulent power like festering lesions.

Something wanted in.

Maybe it had already passed through.

“It’s trembling again, master,” muttered the cat-like demon beside me .

“I didn’t ask you to state the obvious,” I snapped.

He didn’t recoil when the other scouts did. Stubborn thing.

“This fissure differs from the last,” he continued, voice lower.

“You think I don’t know that?” He wasn’t wrong, and a soft growl echoed in my chest.

I crouched and pressed my palm to the land.

Where the ground met air, a subtle distortion rippled.

It throbbed with the cadence of a pustule threatening to burst. Cold, angry, twisted.

Foreign magic whispered in the wind, and an illogical chill raced down my spine.

Whatever this was, it didn’t belong in my realm.

My tail whipped over the dirt.

A momentary lull in the wind allowed me to strain my ears in the silence. I closed my eyes and focused on the heartbeat in the ground, thump-thump-thumping beneath my claws. I bared my teeth on impulse, snarling at the force on the other side, battering at the veil between worlds.

Tears between realms were rare. Two in the span of a week should have been impossible. The last had been a hundred years ago, yet I had the evidence of one tear healing in the distant woods and another surging under my feet.

Where the last tear had been softer, lingering in the air between the trees like a cloud of glittering dust smelling of flowers and nectar, this one was vile and full of malevolence.

My scouts hadn’t found whatever slipped through days ago, but I had no fear for my land or my people regarding that wayward creature. But this… this reeked of danger.

And it was increasing in speed. Quickening like an erratic heartbeat or a frenzied pulse. A fleeting pressure clawed at the seam between worlds and my hackles raised.

“Fall back,” I shouted. “Now!”

The scouts obeyed, scattering like insects on command.

A surge cleaved through the heavy air.

A pressure drop, a silent howl, and then—

Red magic exploded from the rift in a brutal wave. It landed like a battering ram, flinging my soldiers across the ridge like broken dolls. Even I had to drop to a knee, fangs bared, cloak snapping behind me in the aftermath.

The magic smelled of sulfur and saccharine decay. Like demon meat left too long in the sun. The rift pulsed once more, a final shudder, before sealing like a slit pulled shut by invisible fingers.

My rage rose with me.

The smoke cleared, revealing scorched rock and a dozen groaning soldiers. I didn’t check on them. I didn’t need to. They’d survive. If they didn’t, they weren’t worthy of serving me.

“Get up,” I snarled. “I’m not dragging your corpses back to the castle.”

Two of the scouts struggled to their feet. One didn’t. His skin had blistered and peeled. His third eye had burst. Weakling .

I strolled past him.

The rift withered, but its echo lingered.

And that was worse. Sickly crimson magic like that didn’t belong to the demon world of Infernus.

It had no smell or signature I recognized.

I knew every sorcerer in this cursed land.

If one of them had tried to rip open the veil, I’d have their skin flayed and bones boiling in oil before dusk.

No. This near breach came from the other side.

Earth. The mortal realm. A land of men and creatures I would never know. Somewhere I’d never been, yet fate would never allow me to forget. Not with her blood in my veins. Not with her face burned into memory.

I shook the thought away. Now wasn’t the time.

I turned back toward my scouts. Most had recovered.

As I approached, the air crackled again. Not a rift, but a memory—residual magic brushing my skin like static. My fur bristled along my arms and down my tail. I smelled it then: ash and decay.

Something had almost come through. Something powerful.

“Prince Mavros, what do you want us to do?” asked a shadowed scout, shoulders hunched, front claws kneading the dirt.

I stared at him.

“I want you to find out what did this,” I barked. “And I want their fucking heart on my dinner plate.”

“But—”

I grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the nearest rock wall. His cloven feet dangled above the ground, rat-tail lashing wildly.

“No excuses,” I hissed. “No delays. You think I don’t feel it? The world shifting beneath our feet? Something’s coming.”

He croaked, nodding rapidly.

I dropped him.

The others didn’t speak. They dispersed without a word, melting into the haze as the wind screamed through the ravine again. One cat-like pair of fiery glowing eyes lingered before melting into the shadows and floating home.

I stood alone, condemned to the darkness.

Infernus was growing restless. As if my spirit reflected the state of the land foisted upon my shoulders, so was I.

Every day, I could feel the beast in me pulling closer to the surface. The part that enjoyed the crack of bone and the scent of blood. The part that didn’t care about duty and only wanted violence and submission.

The part that hungered.

I’d restrained that side of me. Tried to rule with some echo of civility. But the increasing threat of rifts and the unknown forces scratched at the fragile walls I’d built around myself. The beast in my bones prowled under the surface, waiting for the lock to break .

I turned toward the castle in the distance, scanning the crooked towers silhouetted against the burning sky. It looked like a broken fang piercing the clouds. My home. My den. My cage.

Her tomb.

I clenched a fist and snarled.

Something else was coming through. When it did, I would be there to greet it. Teeth bared. Claws ready.

The castle loomed like the carcass of some ancient beast, half-buried in black stone, its crooked towers clawing at the sky. No matter how many times I returned to it, it always felt like stepping back into a grave.

The gates groaned open as I approached, obedient to my presence yet resentful, as if the walls themselves resented sheltering a creature like me.

My boots struck the stone with dull, echoing finality as I climbed the winding stairs to the highest chamber in the tallest tower, far above the rotting bones of the realm.

By the time I reached my study, I was seething.

The doors swung inward with a bang that rattled the panes, flinging loose parchment and dust into the air like startled birds.

The flames in the hearth flared high in response, tongues of red licking the stone, as if preparing to be extinguished by my mood.

I strode in without pause, slamming the door behind me and pacing.

I could still feel it—that pulse of magic beneath my skin, not mine, not born of Infernus. It had struck me on the ridge like a curse. A warning. A challenge.

And no one challenged me without consequence.

Something had clawed at the veil between worlds with such force, it had left scars on the earth and blood in the wind.

I raked a hand through my hair, claws scraping scalp, and growled low in my throat. There was no peace anymore. Not in the land. Not in my subjects. Not in me.

Never in me.

The fire cracked as I crossed the room, throwing my weight into the heavy chair at my desk.

It groaned beneath me, worn from centuries of enduring my temper and that of my forefathers.

I pressed my knuckles against the desk’s edge, staring down at the torn maps and forgotten scrolls, barely seeing them.

My breath came hot and uneven. Rage simmered beneath my ribs, coiling tight, looking for something to devour.

Hungry. Always so hungry.

Infernus had always been harsh, but I had made it mine. I had conquered rival Inferni and upstart demonic wizards. I had silenced uprisings and provided for the people in my charge, despite the stain on my bloodline. I had become the beast that monsters feared.

And still, I was restless.

Still, I hungered.

Something inside me had begun to rot. A part of me—the unwanted part, maybe—had gone too long without light. Without warmth. I had forged a stable kingdom from volatile chaos and ruled it well, but what did I have to show for it?

Domovoy materialized near the window in a ripple of smoke and candlelight, his feline form stretched out along the sill like he owned it. His eyes gleamed and his bottlebrush tail flicked.

“You’re brooding again,” he observed, entirely unimpressed.

I didn’t look at him. “I’m thinking.”

“Loudly,” he drawled.

I glanced at the silver goblet near the edge of the table.

Full and untouched from the night before.

The thought of drinking it made my stomach turn.

“Two portals within the same week are an ill omen. The first had no trace of danger. A magical blip, if anything, but this second one… Whatever tried to come through had power. And purpose.”

“It smelled like madness,” Domovoy murmured, arching his back in a slow stretch. The candles on his head sputtered.

I turned to face the hearth, where the fire crackled as if echoing my thoughts. “It was... hunger. Desperation.”

I would know .

The air tasted strange now. Charged. Like the brittle moment before lightning struck, or the hitched breath before a scream.

I shifted and glanced out the window behind my desk.

The world below was a shadow compared to what I’d read other realms were.

Forests of bone and bark stretched into the haze.

Wraith-like trees dripped black sap. Strange creatures with too many legs crawled in the burrows and skittered through the brush.

Ordinary to those raised in Infernus, monstrous to anyone else. To me, this was just life. Just home. Even beasts knew home meant nothing without peace.

And peace was a lie.

I had no companions, only servants. No rest, only vigilance.

Even my throne felt like a cage. I ruled because I was stronger.

Because I could kill faster. Because no one else dared try.

Because I had to be. I had power, but nothing to soften it.

Rage, but no reason to quiet it. I was a monster forged by necessity.

A creature born by accident then whipped into shape for war.

Domovoy yawned, utterly unbothered by my silence. “You need a distraction. A fresh enemy. Perhaps a lover. Would you like me to summon a harpy?”

I shot him a warning glare, but before I could speak, something in the air shifted.

It was sudden. Subtle. But unmistakable.

A captivating scent curling through the haze of moldering dust. I turned from the window, nostrils flaring. The aroma was faint but distinct, drifting up from the lower halls. My heart thumped hard.

Sweet. Alive. Like the first lavender breath of spring. Like crushed petals underfoot and golden fruit juice dripping from plump lips, and early morning rain on wild grass. It didn’t belong here—nothing that pure could ever belong in Infernus.

My mouth went dry. Every muscle in my body tensed. Heat churned low in my stomach.

Domovoy changed his shape in a puff of shadow, but I didn’t spare him another glance.

The air thickened around me.

My claws scraped the edge of my desk as anticipation sat heavy as lead in my chest. Something had crossed into my land. Something radiating light, which felt… bewitching. I turned to stone.

I didn’t know what had arrived, but they had fallen into a beast’s lair. Prey stumbling into a predator’s den. Impulse commanded me to possess and own. And the obsessive hunger for light demanded that I devour. The hollow in me begged to claim and consume before the light could escape.