Page 1

Chapter 1

Aaliyah

D eath always wins.

Those were the cursed words that brought me back to consciousness.

They were subtle, like a breath, almost nothing more than wind against busted shutters that could be played off as a voice. But they didn't feel like sound; they didn't ring in my eardrums or make me turn to search for them. They echoed, as if they'd been played directly into my head, and when I opened my eyes, nothing greeted me.

Not the frigid dark or the harshness of overhead lights that used to glare down at me from the ceiling at Ascension Rising. Nothing but an endless floor of rolling silver that stretched around me as I stood on what should have been shaky legs. Nothing but an obsidian sky littered with millions of pin-prick stars, and when I opened my mouth to scream …

Nothing greeted me then either.

It only took a second for me to realize where I was, the Void greeting me with all the softness of an old friend, picking at my soul as if reaching a hand out to shake. That was where my recognition ended, my memory a haze as I took a stumbling step forward. There were hints of what brought me here, hints of people that became blurred in my mind's eye, before the subtle plucks of the Void stole them from me.

My name was Aaliyah, and someone had taken me from … from who again?

I wasn't breathing, but that didn't stop my chest from heaving like I was. The names and the faces of men I knew were important but couldn't quite grasp slipped by. There one second, gone the next, the memories so distant I could no longer reach them.

An overwhelming feeling of dread surged into my chest, grabbing my heart and squeezing it. Though, it didn't beat. Another pluck, another memory gone. I needed to leave, needed to get home.

But what was home?

The endlessness of the silver room was a daunting feature, and unsure what to do, I walked, one step after the other, faster and faster, until I was running.

I had to get out. That was the only thing I knew. Those faceless men, they needed me. I was …

What was my name again?

"You seem to be in quite the bind," a voice echoed, sounding off like a cannon and bringing my hopeless run to a stop. A chill filled the air, the bitter cold the first thing that had felt real since I'd opened my eyes. "I wasn't expecting to find anyone else, well, here . It's not what you would call an ideal vacation spot. Considering you're dead and all."

I turned, looking back at where I'd just been running from, and found a man, much closer than he should have been. He had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, standing only a couple of inches taller than me. There was a familiarity in the cock of his hips and the way his head tilted. He had striking white hair that was broken only by a small patch of black in his bangs that laid over his forehead in a soft wave; the end twining toward one of his slightly pointed ears.

Then there was the lavender of his eyes, swirling with patches of gold that clashed with the vibrancy of rich violet, and when he smiled, it was another's face I saw. I wasn't sure how I knew, but that face was ingrained in me, one I shared.

My mother. He looked just like my mother.

I opened my mouth to speak on instinct, but nothing came out like it should.

"This is supposed to be my getaway spot, you know, and I'm not much a fan of sharing. Do me a favor and pass on, would you?" the man pressed with a callous wave of his hand and a souring to his thin lips.

The silver under my feet shook, vertigo sending me into a tailspin of dazed confusion, much like the taste of iron that suddenly flooded my mouth. The Void flexed, as if the ground just below it had fissured, and for a moment, surprise replaced the mirth in the unknown man's eyes.

"Well, this is interesting. Seems the Void has picked a favorite Reaper," he mused, setting his chin in an open palm. The Void pulsed at his words, as if gleeful to hear them. Was that what I was? A Reaper ? "Guess it's your lucky day. Do try not to get killed out there again. Would be a shame if we couldn't talk next time."

I got no more, just his smile and the brush of his final parting words, before the ground fell out from under me, and I plummeted.

"And remember, baby Imperial. Death always wins."

* * *

I held on to those words for as long as I could. They were a serenade, a subtle nothing that pulled me away from what I could hear, smell, and taste. They were the peace of quiet.

But I'd never liked the quiet.

Never make noise.

The breath that seized my still lungs was brutal, and I choked on the metallic liquid that was forced down my throat, thick like a viscous syrup, clogging my airway as my body tried to register life again. It was rotten and ancient, smelling sharply like bottled fury, a potent mix of magic and decay.

My sight came next, then the ache, and the pressure .

I jolted, another mouthful landing in my stomach like a rancid weight. Useless thoughts rattled my brain as my memories filtered back painfully slow. I tried to focus on what I remembered last, on the hazy thoughts of a dusty piano, and a man's gentle voice … until eventually, brutally , a face came into view.

They get more violent when you make noise.

It was the sharpness of his features, the deep red of his eyes, and the chaotic frizz of his ink-black hair that finally chipped through the haze. It was the face of a man that had gotten me through more experiments than I could count. My heart jolted as I reached for him, desperate for the comfort of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart under my ear. I waited, eyes clouding with tears, for him to call me his ab like he had when I was a child, to remind me I was always safe when he was nearby.

Only the hair on my arms stood, my heartbeat quickening, as if my body knew instinctively that whoever I was seeing wasn't what he seemed. He was feral, his lips and chin covered in his own blood, from where he'd ripped out a chunk of the arm he'd held to my mouth. There was an eerie silence to him that matched his lack of breath and the haunting whites of his wide eyes.

Sebek, my mind finally supplied, and my hand dropped. My uncle by blood, the man who'd turned the Vivas Crypt into the Vampires they were now. The man who'd been my ruin.

This wasn't my father, even if he shared his face.

This was a monster .

The lingering traces of his blood were like sour soot on my tongue as I stared up at the gray sky. I couldn't avoid the memories forever, even as I tried to fight them. It was too much, too painful to come to terms with.

Who he was, really was.

The leader of Ascension Rising.

The doctors and scientists that had torn into me and destroyed any semblance of peace I'd had in my life had done so at his whim. He was behind my endless torment and years of pain. That realization, that this man who'd populated my father's stories with such grace and heroics was nothing more than the demon that haunted my nightmares … broke something in me.

The frost-bitten rocks dug into my back, and Sebek hovered over me, a freshly bloodied hand cupping my cheek. For a second, I could have sworn he looked worried, beyond the crazed fire in his eyes and the blood that still ran down his neck and arm. I should have been panicking, thrashing, and trying to run, but my mind was still catching up, and I didn't want to leave the fog that cradled me, didn't want to see what was beyond it.

He was my uncle, and he'd done this. Stole me, tortured me … and snapped Osiris's neck.

Oh God, Osiris.

"No—" I started, the word drowned out as my eyes rolled back, and the pressure behind them stole my voice, never leaving me a moment of peace, even now. My body bowed, darts of fire racing from my head to my fingertips. The Rends that had fallen into little more than forgotten history came rushing back to me. The pull, the Void, the memory. The brutality of the last one had ripped me clean from my body, torn me into the Void.

The last one should have killed me.

Being away from the Vivas Crypt before had already brought them back once … and it'd taken everything my guys had to bring me back. The taste of Osiris's blood still lingered if I thought hard enough.

I could only wonder, in horrified silence, how Sebek's blood did the same this time.

The need to run, to do anything to get away, was so strong I nearly pushed my way up, regardless of the weight that still held me down. Osiris was hurt, and we'd just left him there. On the floor, alone. "Osiris?—"

"You're fine. You're fine ," Sebek whispered, carefully brushing the hair away from my face, across the chilled blood that stained my cheek. His expression contorted when I didn't give some affirmation back. "I won't let you die again, Glass."

His nickname made me flinch. I didn't have any words for him, nothing that could escape the crushing pressure in my skull and the taste of blood in my mouth. There was only the Rend .

My last sight, before it pulled me unwillingly into it, was his red eyes. So familiar, yet so lost to me. So filled with a rage that should have been foreign to them. But this monster wasn't my father, even if they shared a face, and with each savage breath, that only became clearer.

Before the memory took over.

Red eyes.

That was what I was supposed to see when I looked at the man in front of me, whose powerful arms were crossed defiantly over his chest, as if he were unmovable. Red eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, shining with the barest hint of mischief and love.

In the world of ghosts, color wasn't something we had. This place, between the living world and the Void, was a blank slate. Just like my father's eyes and my mother's usually flushed cheeks.

Why'd they show up now, when I couldn't tell them how much I'd missed them? Why now, after Donavan and Nilus had already finished burying me, before my body was even cold?

My mother's soft smile stretched her slightly pursed lips, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. She didn't attempt to say anything, likely because she already knew nothing would happen if she tried. Her appearance was exactly as I last remembered it. From her soft flowery dress to her cooking apron, which was still stained with whatever she'd been making that night. I imagined her hair vividly, long white and down to her lower back, the silky strands wrapped around my fingers as she hugged me tightly.

I'd thought about her hugs a lot, the warmth of her arms and the strength they used to give me. I wanted to be hugged again, to hear my mother's soft voice as she sang her foreign melodies to me. To listen to one of my father's epic tales, of knights and princes, of war and love.

I took a tentative step toward them, as though I still needed to walk. It brought me some comfort, made me feel alive, even though I knew I no longer was. I was afraid to blink. If I did, they might disappear, and this fever dream would fade.

A new brush of emotion filled the air, this time the distinct warmth of love. My mother and father stood like sentinels, waiting for me to process.

Another step.

I was eager for the touch I knew I wouldn't feel. I wanted it, if only to imagine them close to me again.

My mother's trembling hand slipped into my father's own just as I reached them, an arm's length away. A pulse echoed as their hands touched, skimming over my skin. It was strange when the pull wasn't originating from me, almost like I was an onlooker in a game I'd made. Their emotions flickered, fear and uncertainty slipping through the cracks, burning me down to my core. I dropped my arms and took a hesitant step back.

Would they disappear? A tremor forced its way through my frozen limbs as I stared at them, their sunken expressions that suddenly mirrored mine, but that didn't stop them from following my retreating step.

I lifted my hand, trying to ward them off. I didn't want them to leave me. Not yet. I needed more time. I could survive if I got one more second; I was sure of it.

Just a second longer.

My words were empty on the wind, never breaching my lips, no matter how loudly I screamed them.

They reached me before I could back up again, their arms circling me in a tight hug, their hands still firmly clasped together. If I could breathe, the pressure would have pulled the air from my lungs. Inaudible sobs filtered through me, and my body trembled. It was too late. I could feel the pull more clearly now, the familiar tug at my soul breaking down every barrier I had. I clung to them as tightly as I could, surprised my limbs didn't fade right through them.

"No." The word was sharp in the air, my lips forming it as it resounded through the forest like a demand spoken by the trees themselves. It took me a moment to register that I heard it.

"Please." Another whisper. My parents relaxed against me, as though they were hoping for the sound. Then, far too soon, they faded from my view, their souls finding their way past me. To the place they belonged.

The Void didn't take prisoners; it didn't discriminate. It took, and it took, and it took .

Because death always wins.

It felt final, the Void uncaring as it claimed them. I fell to my knees, unable to stop the soundless scream.

Only it wasn't soundless.

The violent, hoarse noise echoed through the trees, ripping its way through me. I couldn't stop the shudder that racked my limbs as my eyes landed on the mound of dirt that held my body. I reached out hesitantly to the pile, my right hand grazing over the top. My mouth dropped open, but I was afraid to try to speak.

"Please." I mouthed the word, and the body beneath the disturbed soil responded with the sound. A crisp chill gripped every exposed nerve I had, and all at once, it hit me again. I could feel the earth on my skin. The sting of my lacerations as the dirt dug into them. Even the rich scent of the forest washed over me, settling on my tongue.

When the pain overwhelmed the awe, I closed my eyes, falling forward into the earth where my body resided. I could no more stop the scream than I could stop myself from pulling in a first, rasping breath. Unconsciousness licked at my mind, though I tried desperately to stop it. I wanted to hold on to this feeling because agony aside …

I was alive.