Page 36

Rowen

I tucked the blanket around Sierra's sleeping form, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her silver hair spilled across the pillow like moonlight, catching the dim glow from the embers in the fireplace.

Even in sleep, she wore a slight frown, the delicate lines between her brows speaking volumes.

The weight of our situation had carved itself into her features, aging her beyond her years in moments of vulnerability like this.

Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment to breathe in her scent—wild herbs and something distinctly her. "Rest well, little witch," I whispered against her skin, wishing I could absorb some of her burdens.

I grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and pulled them on, not bothering with a shirt.

The palace corridors would be empty at this hour anyway.

My mind was too full of concerns to sleep, thoughts racing like untamed shadows.

Sierra's words about Archer had only amplified the unease that had settled deep in my bones days ago.

The stone floors were cool beneath my bare feet as I made my way through the dimly lit hallways, the ancient stones whispering secrets of centuries past. Torches flickered in their sconces, casting my elongated shadow against the walls.

Where would Archer be? The library seemed the most likely place.

He'd barely left it since bringing back that ancient tome, emerging only when forced to eat or when Sierra requested his presence.

I rounded a corner and nearly collided with Callum. He stepped back, his pale green eyes glinting in the low light like those of a predator in the dark. The shadows seemed to cling to him even here, wrapping around his tall form like devoted servants.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked, his voice low and melodic in the silence.

I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. "Going to check on Archer."

"I just came from there." Callum ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. The gesture was so uncharacteristically vulnerable that it heightened my concern. "He's still in the library, surrounded by books and looking like hell. Worse than yesterday."

My jaw tightened, muscles clenching painfully. "He's pushing himself too hard." It was an understatement. Archer had always believed self-destruction was a viable strategy.

"He thinks he has no choice." Callum fell into step beside me as I continued toward the library, our footsteps falling into synchronized rhythm. "The prophecy's weighing on him. I've never seen him like this, Callum. Not once in all these centuries."

Callum remained silent, letting me process outloud.

"Fuck the prophecy." The words came out harsher than I intended, echoing off the stone walls with raw fury. I felt my demonic nature stir, the urge to let my horns and claws emerge almost overwhelming. "There's always another way. Always."

Callum's mouth quirked into a humorless smile, the expression not reaching his eyes.

"Is there? Because from where I'm standing, we're running out of options.

The Shadow Beast nearly took Sierra and me last time.

It's growing stronger with each passing day.

We all felt it. Despite me temporarily banishing it, we all know it's just a matter of time before it's back. "

I stopped walking, turning to face him fully, forcing him to halt. "I'm not sacrificing Archer. Or you. Or Sierra. I've spent centuries ruling the Underworld by finding alternatives when everyone else saw only dead ends. This time isn't different."

"And I've spent centuries watching my realm slowly die until Sierra came along." Callum's voice was quiet but firm, a steel edge beneath the velvet tones. "Sometimes, Rowen, there isn't another option. Sometimes fate it written in stone and there’s not a damn thing we can do to change it."

Exhaustion crashed over me in a wave. I leaned against the wall, suddenly too tired to maintain the facade of the unshakeable demon lord I presented to my subjects. With Callum, there was no need for pretense.

"I can't lose any of you," I admitted, the words scraping my throat raw. "Not after finally finding you all. Not after centuries of emptiness."

Callum's expression softened, the hardness in his eyes giving way to something more vulnerable. He reached out, his hand warm on my shoulder, fingers squeezing slightly. "I know. I feel the same way."

We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of our situation hanging between us like an invisible thread binding us together.

"Did you ever think we'd end up here?" I asked finally, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "You and me, actually talking instead of trying to kill each other? There was a time I'd have gladly ripped your throat out."

Callum laughed softly, the sound rich and unexpected in the somber hallway. "Never. But I'm glad we are. And for the record, I'd have done the throat-ripping first."

"Me too." The admission came easier than I expected, centuries of rivalry giving way to something far more precious. "Though I still think you're insufferable."

We resumed walking, our steps echoing in the empty corridor, the sound oddly comforting.

"Sierra's worried about him," I said. "Archer. She sees more than she lets on."

"We all are. He's isolating himself, carrying this burden alone. Classic Archer move, thinking he's protecting everyone by suffering in silence."

"That's Archer. Always taking the weight of the world on his shoulders." I shook my head, memories of countless similar situations washing over me. "He's been that way since he was a kid. Too stubborn for his own good."

"Tell me about that," Callum said, genuine curiosity in his voice. "How did you two meet? Wasn't he promised to your family to serve the throne as payment for a deal with his father?"

I grimaced, hating the facts behind how Archer actually came to me.

The memory still left a bitter taste after all these years.

"His father was a real piece of work. A lower demon who made a bargain with one of my uncles to trap his mother and force her to bond with him and bare his children. In exchange, their first born would be forced into the service of the throne. Once I learned of the bargain, I killed his father, freed his mother and allowed him to work in exchange for protection.”

Archer came to me when he was fourteen. A bitter and mouthy teen. It had taken four of my best guards to get him into Hell.

But there was something about him. His loyalty, his fire, the defiance in those ice-blue eyes even as he knelt bleeding before my throne. I offered him a place in my court instead of killing him. I shrugged, uncomfortable with the memory. "Best decision I ever made."

Callum nodded, something like understanding in his gaze. "He's extraordinary. His angelic heritage... it's beautiful. The way he moves sometimes. It's like watching light itself take form."

"It is," I agreed, remembering the rare occasions when Archer allowed that part of himself to shine. "Though he's always seen it as a burden. A mark of his mother's fall, his father's cruelty and trickery."

We reached the library doors, pausing before entering. The massive oak panels were carved with ancient symbols. Warnings and protections that had guarded my collection for millennia.

"What's our plan for the coming days?" Callum asked, his voice low, serious once more.

I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble that had grown since morning. "We need to prepare for the Shadow Beast's return. Train Sierra to use her powers more effectively. Research alternatives to the prophecy."

"And if we don't find any?"

I met his gaze steadily, letting him see the resolve in mine. "Then we fight anyway. Together. Neither of us kept our kingdoms alive by accepting defeat."

Callum held my stare for a long moment before nodding, something like respect flashing in those pale green depths. "Together."

As we pushed open the library doors, the sight that greeted us made my heart clench painfully.

Archer sat surrounded by piles of books, ancient tomes stacked haphazardly on every surface.

His normally immaculate appearance was disheveled, dark hair tangled as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly as he turned a page, the movement lacking his usual grace.

He looked up as we entered, his ice-blue eyes dulled with fatigue, missing their characteristic sharpness. "Found anything?" he asked immediately, not bothering with greetings.

"No," I answered, taking in the scattered notes, the open inkwell that had spilled onto parchment, the half-eaten food abandoned on a side table. "But we need to talk."

Archer shook his head, already looking back at his book. "There's no time. The Shadow Beast?—"

"Will still be there after you've rested," I interrupted, authority slipping into my tone without conscious thought. "You're no good to anyone like this, Archer. You can barely hold that book steady."

"I'm fine." The lie hung in the air between us, brittle and transparent.

Callum snorted. "You look like shit."

Archer glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it, just exhaustion. "Thanks for the assessment. Very helpful."

I moved forward, clearing a space among the books to sit beside him, nudging aside scrolls and leather-bound volumes with careful hands. "Sierra's worried about you. We all are. She woke crying from a dream about you tonight."

Something flickered in Archer's eyes. Pain, guilt, determination. His daggers lay untouched beside him, not being twirled for once. "I have to figure this out. I have to find another way. There must be a loophole in the prophecy."

"We'll find it together." I placed my hand over his, feeling the coolness of his skin. "But not tonight. Tonight, you rest."

Archer looked ready to argue, his lips parting with what would surely be another protest, but exhaustion won out. His shoulders slumped, the rigid posture he'd maintained crumbling like sand. "I don't want to leave her," he whispered, vulnerability raw in his voice. "Any of you. I can't..."

The words and the force of his emotions struck me like a physical blow. This was my oldest friend, my most loyal companion, reduced to this haunted shell. I pulled him into an embrace, feeling his resistance crumble as he leaned into me, his weight familiar against my chest.

"You won't have to," I promised, meeting Callum's gaze over Archer's shoulder, seeing my own fears reflected there. "We'll face this together, whatever comes. Like we always have."

As Callum joined our embrace, his arms encircling both of us with surprising gentleness, I clung to that promise, even as fear gnawed at my insides like a hungry beast. The Shadow Beast was coming. Sierra had been marked. The prophecy loomed over us all like an executioner's axe.

But in that moment, with my mates beside me, I found a sliver of hope to hold onto in the darkness. A tiny flame that might, just might, be enough to light our way forward.