Page 16 of To Dwell in Shadows (Shadows of Aurelia #2)

W hen Sam felt well enough to leave the Sanctum, he found himself heading back to the Swamps of Sanctuary. The stillness of the space grounded him. He perched on a rock, lazily tossing pebbles into the water as he tried to sort through his feelings about his first experience delivering vengeance.

His initial thought was that something inside him was broken.

Missing the crucial training he should have received as an adolescent must have damaged some internal mechanism.

His second thought followed quickly: maybe even with training, he would have been an ineffective Vengeance demon anyway.

Perhaps he was just using his lack of training as an excuse for a fundamental ineptitude.

His third thought was imagining the advice Eldridge would give him. He was fairly certain the Goblyn would tell him he was being too hard on himself. Prone to bouts of melancholy, he often needed Eldridge to pull him out of his dark moods with gentle reminders of how unreasonable he was being.

The Goblyn was probably right, even though his advice was only conjured from Sam’s head. It was just his first day in the Underworld, and his first attempt at in the Sanctum. It hadn’t gone as he had hoped, but that didn’t mean he could never improve.

An imp swooping overhead pulled Sam out of his rumination. It dropped down to hover in front of him and said, “King say you must return to palace. They having celebration banquet for you tonight.”

Before Sam could respond, the imp shot back into the sky and flew off.

He rubbed his forehead. Celebration banquet? Why was he constantly plagued by others wanting to hold social events for his benefit? Being the center of attention had never been comfortable for him. What he truly wanted was to take a long nap and then have a quiet dinner alone with Selene.

But as his parents would say: duty calls.

Although it was still light outside when Sam returned to their chambers, Selene was sprawled across their bed, fast asleep. The hem of her dress was filthy, making him wonder how she had spent her first day in the Underworld.

He brushed back a lock of hair from her cheek and said, “Wake up, my darling.”

“Mmm,” she groaned and rolled over. “What time is it?”

“Evening. My parents are throwing a celebration dinner that we must attend.”

“Ugh. Do we have to?”

“I don’t want to go either. But the banquet is in our honor. How was your day?”

Selene yawned, then said, “Vanthee showed me around a little. Saw some demons, saw some hellhounds. Went to the library. I must have fallen asleep when I came back to the room.” She smoothed back her hair as she sat up.

“The Underworld is kind of a mess outside the palace. It seems so, I don’t know, run-down.

Not neat and well-maintained like Aurelia. ”

“Yes, I noticed that, too.”

“What did you do today?”

“I had a long conversation with my father, and then he left me at the Sanctum of Agonizing Rectitude to practice delivering vengeance for the rest of the day.”

“How was that?”

Sam paused, struggling to put the experience into words. “More difficult than I expected.”

“How so?”

“It was draining.” For a moment he considered telling her what Borias had said about Zaybris but stopped himself. She deserved to never hear that fiend’s name again. He gave his mate a forced smile. “I will figure it out, rest assured.”

“It’s a lot to take in. You’re of two worlds now.”

“You are, too. Three worlds, if you include Aurelia.”

“You’re right, I never thought about that.” They sat in comfortable silence until Selene sighed. “I’ll change so we can go to this dinner.”

The celebration was being held in the Underworld’s banquet hall, a space Sam didn’t remember though he must have visited as a child.

Towering columns carved with black goat-headed motifs supported a vaulted ceiling.

Rows upon rows of long tables lined with ornate chairs stretched deep into the hall before an elevated platform reserved for royalty.

Green mist seeped from the stone walls, giving the space an eerie grandeur. But Sam barely had time to absorb the scene before an imp led him and Selene into a hidden antechamber at the back of the hall.

A hairless demon with a skeletal smile ushered them in.

“Good evening. I am Ghar, master of ceremonies. It is an honor to meet you both,” the demon rasped. “Please be seated. The king would like you to wait here until he arrives.”

“What for?” Sam asked.

“That, I don’t know,” Ghar replied .

Sam and Selene sat on metal chairs between stacks of extra dishes, goblets, and folded linens. While they listened to the muffled clamor of demons filing into the hall, Sam jiggled his leg anxiously.

His parents entered a few moments later, looking serious. Their expressions only deepened Sam’s unease.

Queen Thema followed soon after, practically bouncing with excitement. “Our first festive celebration in the Underworld!” she said to no one in particular. She wore a red dress embroidered with gold thread and had a dragon-shaped hairpin tucked into her tower of braids.

“Ghar, please take Selene and Thema to their seats,” Lamia said. “We need a moment alone with Sam before the banquet starts.”

Selene and Sam exchanged a look before she gave him a reassuring smile, which he returned weakly. She and Thema followed Ghar out into the hall, and then Sam was alone with his parents.

The air seemed to grow heavier once the three of them were alone.

Sam waited for his parents to start with some pleasantries—questions about his day or how he was adjusting.

But Asmodeus simply began to pace, his heavy hooves making the floorboards vibrate with each step.

The room was so cramped that his cape brushed Sam’s knees every time he passed. Lamia’s expression was grave.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his gaze darting between them.

Asmodeus ran a hand over his head between his horns. “Son, I didn’t want to put all this on you so soon, but it’s important. Your mother feels we shouldn’t wait.” He pulled up a chair, the metal creaking as he settled across from Sam.

“What’s wrong?”

When the silence stretched, Lamia said, “Tell him, Asmo.”

Asmodeus sighed heavily. “All right.” When he met Sam’s eyes, something vulnerable flickered beneath his powerful, commanding presence. “Son, my time as ruler of the Underworld is coming to an end.”

Sam blinked. “What do you mean? ”

“My powers, they’re starting to fade,” Asmodeus said slowly.

“Fade?” Sam repeated.

“My magick is harder to control, and my summoning abilities are becoming less reliable. It started a few weeks before you arrived.”

Sam’s heart began to thud against his ribs. Asmodeus had always been larger than life, a figure of unyielding strength and authority. The idea of him faltering felt impossible. “Do you need a healer?”

“No,” Asmodeus said. “It is not an ailment.”

“Perhaps an enchantress then to restore your powers,” Sam offered. He glanced at his mother, but she had turned her back to them. “There are some in Aurelia quite skilled in?—”

Asmodeus shook his head. “No. It is the natural way. When a celestial event called The Thronefall Flame occurs, the current ruler’s faculties fade. So that a new Dark Sovereign may ascend.”

“How do you know this?”

“A proclamation etched into the Hall of Demonic Canon commands it.”

“What proclamation?”

“One of the oldest, carved in obsidian under a statue of King Baphomet in the Hall,” Lamia said. She turned to recite, “When the Thronefall Flame burns across the sky, from its dying light shall rise the Dark Sovereign—one destined to rule dominion over life, death, and all that lies between.”

Sam mulled over the words in his head, trying to make sense of them. The dull headache that had started in the Sanctum began to pound. “It sounds like superstition.”

“It’s not. The last sighting of the Thronefall Flame was about two thousand years ago when I ascended,” Asmodeus said.

Sam nodded, struck by the realization that he had never known his father’s true age until now. “And how were you chosen as the Dark Sovereign?”

The king adjusted his crown. “I was born on the day foretold in a prophecy inscribed in The Sovereign’s Reckoning . It was an ancient text my predecessor, Baphomet, destroyed as his reign waned, believing it would keep him in power. But still, I prevailed.”

“Do your subjects know you’re losing your powers?”

“The mystics do. And those on the Council of Legions—Empusa, Blight, Mammon,” Asmodeus replied.

Lamia crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

“Since there’s nothing in the Hall of Demonic Canon that clearly names the next Dark Sovereign, some on the council have already begun scheming to influence the outcome.

This is why we need to crown your father’s successor soon.

We have been desperately trying to find someone to take his place…

” She pinned Sam with her gaze. “And now you have arrived.”

Dread pooled in Sam’s stomach. Muffled shouts from the hall mirrored his own growing turmoil. “You don’t mean… ”

“Fate had a plan all along, it seems,” Asmodeus said, echoing the words he’d spoken to Sam in the swamps.

“We could crown you tonight,” Lamia said.

“But I understand that you need time to integrate back.” Her wings began to quiver with agitation.

“However, it must be done before the Thronefall Flame appears in three months when the season changes. If no successor is crowned when the veil has thinned for ascension, the realm will become leaderless for a century.”

Sam rubbed his hands against his pant legs, trying to ground himself, but his mind was in chaos.

He had always assumed his father’s reign was eternal.

Bearing the responsibilities of prince had worried him enough, but the expectation that he would become king was too much.

“No. I don’t want that. I’m not suited to rule?—”

Asmodeus’s face darkened. He stood abruptly, towering over Sam. “You must be.”

Before Sam could respond, the door to the antechamber burst open. Ghar stumbled in, panting heavily. “Forgive the interruption,” he said, bowing. “But there is trouble in the hall.”

Queen Lamia frowned. “What kind of trouble?”

“The demons of Anguish grew bored, so they began reciting incantations to torment some of the lost souls who wandered into the hall.”

“Harmless fun,” Asmodeus said dismissively.

Ghar winced. “It… escalated. Vanthee objected, as did Queen Thema, which led to a brawl between the Legion of Ruin and the Legion of Temptation. If you don’t intervene, I fear the Aurelian queen will be hurt.”

Without further discussion, Lamia, Asmodeus, and Sam rushed out of the room.