Page 5

Chapter Three

A s much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t avoid this any longer.

I needed sleep. My body was like lead, every limb weighted down by exhaustion.

A dull, insistent ache throbbed in my head, never fading, and my eyes burned from countless sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in fear of my dreams. Weeks had passed without a full night of peaceful, uninterrupted rest and I couldn’t spend the rest of my life surviving on limited hours of sleep.

If Clay’s visit had proven anything, it was that I couldn’t keep going like this.

It was only a matter of time before everyone else noticed how much I was crumbling apart.

I needed to rest—even if it meant seeing him. Hyrax.

With a resigned sigh, I pulled back the duvet on the plush mattress in my bedchamber.

Nessira had brought in heavier bedding to ward off the encroaching chill of winter, and the weight of it was almost intoxicating as I settled beneath it.

The familiar scent of lavender clung to the fabric, a quiet reminder of home, and it was enough to coax me into loosening the tension in my shoulders.

I sank into the pillows, my head falling back as if the mattress itself were cradling me. Above me, the shadows of the candlelight flickered and danced along the ceiling, a silent performance that demanded no audience. I watched them until, eventually, the flame guttered out.

Darkness enveloped the room, and the silence pressed close around me .

Finally, I closed my eyes, and it took only a moment before sleep found me.

E ven though it had been weeks since I’d last stepped foot in the winding, maze-like caverns of the Underworld, I found my way effortlessly. My memory held the paths as if I had walked them every day of my life.

Honestly, I should have realized the truth about this place sooner. I had no one but myself to be angry at.

Well, myself—and Hyrax.

I was furious with Hyrax.

And now that I’d finally allowed myself to return, I would not be leaving without some answers from the God of the Dead. After all this time, and after all the lies, he at least owed me that much.

I stormed through the caverns, ignoring the ever-present chill in the air until I reached the massive steel doors that led to his throne room. With a sudden strength that surprised even me, I ripped them open and stepped inside.

Hyrax’s throne room had always been where we met during my visits, though he rarely occupied his throne of skulls. More often, I’d find him lounging at the dining table, sipping wine and listening to melancholic music while the black onyx fireplace burned warmly. Today, though, was different.

Today, he sat atop the dais on his throne, draped in black robes, radiating authority.

Beside him stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp features, his long dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders.

He gestured to a stack of papers, drawing Hyrax’s attention as the God of the Dead scanned them diligently.

The moment I threw open the doors, the stranger's dark eyes locked onto mine—steady, unflinching. The air between us crackled, and my magic coiled beneath my skin, reacting to him before I even knew who he was.

“Theadora,” Hyrax’s deep voice carried across the room, tinged with surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

I scoffed, my tone sharp. “Am I only permitted here when you allow it?”

A grin spread across Hyrax’s face as he waved the man aside, gesturing for him to leave the papers on the table. The man stepped back, but his gaze didn’t waver, still assessing me with an intensity that sent a slow, involuntary shiver down my spine.

Hyrax stood, descending from the platform with a lazy stretch of his neck. “Of course not, my dear. It has been some time since you’ve visited, though. I had hoped to hear what became of you after our last meeting, but you never returned.”

His words hit a nerve. The last time I’d been here was during the height of Camilla’s attack.

I had traveled between the battlefield and the Underworld as my consciousness wavered, hovering dangerously close to death.

Camilla had flushed Mortal blood through my veins to strip me of my powers, and it had been Hyrax who had helped me reconnect with my magic, guiding me back to life. Hyrax had saved me.

And yet…

“You lied to me,” I spat without hesitation, the accusation venomous.

His eyes narrowed, and from the corner of my vision, I saw the man at the dining table turn away slightly to hide his soft chuckle.

“I did no such thing,” Hyrax replied coolly, his voice betraying the slightest flicker of irritation.

“I never pretended to be anything other than what I am. And what I am has always been rather obvious, Theadora. You’ve explored my realm, sat at my table, drank at my side.

If you refused to see the truth, that willful blindness is not my fault. ”

My stomach twisted, his words sinking in like barbs. He was right. It had been so painfully obvious, the truth of it laid out on a platter for me. He could have been more upfront with me, yes, but he was also right. I should have known better.

“You could have told me,” I insisted, my voice cracking slightly.

He scoffed. “And would you have wanted to hear it? Look at you now—disapproval etched across your face.”

"Of course I’m disapproving! You were banished for a reason, Hyrax!”

The man beside the dining table stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate—like a predator deciding whether I was worth his time. His gaze flicked over me, assessing, calculating, lingering just a beat too long before he spoke.

His voice, when he finally did, was low and controlled, yet it carried an undeniable weight. "You are speaking to a High God, Theadora. I would caution you to mind your tone.”

Magic rippled through me, rattling the ground beneath our feet. This was a private conversation between my ancestor and me. I didn’t need input from a stranger I had never even seen before.

“And you are?” I said, hostility rolling off of me. Hyrax chuckled, summoning a chalice of wine with a flick of his hand and taking a leisurely sip as he approached the man. He clapped him on the back with a somewhat surprising air of paternal pride.

"Forgive me, my dear,” Hyrax drawled. “Allow me to introduce my right hand. This is Caldrius Dagon, Supreme Lieutenant of the Underworld.”

The name struck me like a blow, fragments of memory surfacing.

The name sent me back to Hyrax Estate, to the Archives where Clay had recounted the tale of Caldrius stealing Hyrax’s Bident.

Zion had allowed him to keep it, but the Bident’s magic had poisoned Caldrius, leaving him as nothing more than a murderous shadow of himself.

It was Caldrius’ younger brother, Ennoss, who had taken the Bident from Caldrius, fled, and founded Athenia.

“Caldrius,” I echoed, my voice tinged with disbelief. “As in the Descendant—”

“Of Zion?” Caldrius finished for me, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Perhaps, in life. In death, I am loyal to his highness.” He inclined his head respectfully toward Hyrax.

"Most loyal,” Hyrax confirmed, that same odd pride gleaming in his eyes.

“But why?” I pressed, my mind reeling. “Why would you serve Hyrax if you’re descended from Zion?”

Weren’t the two brothers known to be at odds with each other?

Caldrius laughed, a rich sound that echoed through the room. His eyes gleamed in the flickering firelight, alight with dark amusement. “And why would you shun Hyrax when you’re descended from him?”

Hyrax clapped his hands together, a delighted grin spreading across his face. “I can already tell the two of you will get along famously.”

I frowned, the weight of his assumption settling uncomfortably on my chest. “You think I’ll be returning here?”

Hyrax and Caldrius exchanged a look, their expressions identical in their smug certainty.

Caldrius tilted his head slightly, studying me as if I were some riddle he’d already solved. “You will,” he said—not a question, but a promise.

I didn’t answer.

I woke feeling uneasy. My trip to the Underworld was supposed to bring clarity, to explain why I could do the impossible and what Hyrax truly wanted with me. Instead, I left with even more questions.

In all my prior visits to the Underworld, I’d only ever seen Hyrax. I had assumed—obviously—that his realm held other souls, but actually seeing one was… shocking. And that someone being Caldrius made it worse.

Caldrius’ life was legend. During my written trial, I had to memorize the tale of how he stole Hyrax’s Bident, a relic of immeasurable power.

He had been one of the first Descendants of Zion, chosen by the King of the Gods to aid in banishing Hyrax to the Underworld during the Second War of the Gods.

Of all the souls to stand as Hyrax’s right hand, Caldrius was the last reasonable choice.

So how had he found himself in such a position?

Then again, Caldrius’ greed for power had driven him to madness when he tried to wield the Bident’s magic. Perhaps that madness had forged a bond with Hyrax—an understanding deeper than lineage.

A knock at my door pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. Rising from the bed, I wrapped my robe tightly around my shoulders and padded through my suite to pull open the tall wooden door.

“My Lady,” Emeryn greeted me, dipping her head respectfully. “You look well-rested.”

I doubted that. The shadows under my eyes and the unease in my chest begged to differ. I may have slept, but it certainly hadn’t left me feeling any better.

“I wasn’t aware of any engagements this morning.”

“You have none,” she confirmed, her tone brisk. “However, the Royal Council is meeting this afternoon. They have requested your presence.”

“For what purpose?”

“Council matters are confidential, my lady. I am not told such details.”

Right. Of course .

“Very well,” I said, suppressing a sigh. “I intend to have breakfast with Iris this morning. Ensure the Council knows I will attend promptly.”

Emeryn nodded in approval but paused, her mouth opening as if to say something and then shutting as she decided against it. I watched it all with raised brows. Finally, she turned, ready to leave, and a wave of guilt washed over me.

“Emeryn!” I called after her. She turned, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“Please instruct Nessira to evaluate the potential Ladies-in-Waiting and employ whomever she sees fit.”

Her brows lifted slightly in surprise, but she recovered quickly, dipping her head once more. “At once, my Lady.”

Iwatched her retreat, her footsteps fading into the quiet corridors.

Nessira would be happy to receive that message, happy that I was returning to my senses.

It’s not that I felt particularly confident about my next steps in this castle, but even I could recognize that I needed to stop avoiding reality.

Ignoring the court, refusing sleep, and avoiding the sting of Geia’s betrayal wasn’t sustainable.

It was over now. Camilla was locked up, Geia was gone from my life and Lorelai wasn’t coming back.

I needed to accept those things and start moving forward with my life.