Page 35 of To Dwell in Shadows (Shadows of Aurelia #2)

T he week after sending Ruth home, Selene found herself squeezed between Queen Thema and Empusa on a bench fashioned from scaffolding along the River of Hatred. Only an hour earlier, she and Sam had been rudely awakened by an imp who informed them that the next trial would take place at the river…

Immediately.

A few days ago, Queen Thema had announced that she was ready to return to Aurelia, and apparently King Asmodeus decided that his sister-in-law deserved a proper send-off. So, in true royal fashion, that meant spectacle. Why not knock out one of the trials at the same time?

Selene glanced around uneasily at the swarm of demons clinging to the scaffolding.

The entire structure looked as though it had been slapped together hours ago—rickety, swaying, and packed with creatures eager for chaos.

Some demons sat shoulder to shoulder on narrow planks; others dangled by their tails or clawed feet.

Although a channel of the River of Hatred ran past the palace, they were gathered in a part of the Underworld where Selene had never ventured into before.

Having grown up near the Cumberland River—a body of water about a mile wide that wound through Nashville—she had expected the trial would take place near something similar.

But this was no ordinary river. The widest part of the River of Hatred was so vast she could only see the far shore if she strained her eyes.

The waters were also heavily polluted with discarded metal, torn netting, and other debris.

Empusa, seated to Selene’s right, poked a finger beneath her eye patch to scratch an itch.

Selene had come to realize that all demons had their own peculiar scents, but Empusa’s was perhaps the strangest yet—an odd mix of patchouli, rusted metal, and the faintest trace of bourbon.

When she let out a thunderous burp, Queen Thema, sitting on Selene’s left, pinched her nose in disgust.

“Oh, do pardon me, Aurelian queen,” Empusa chirped in a high-pitched voice, thick with mockery.

Queen Thema gave her a withering look. “I will certainly not miss the lack of manners in this realm.”

“Empusa,” Selene asked, tucking back the strands of hair that kept blowing in her eyes, “do you know what the king wants the competitors to do for this trial?”

“Traverse the river, I imagine.”

“You mean like swim?”

Empusa chuckled darkly. “Only if they want to become a part of it. The waters are poisonous. If anyone falls in… ” Empusa snapped her fingers. “Gone! Dissolved into nothing.”

“They die?”

“Yes. But also no. Their body perishes, but their spirit becomes part of the river. If you look closely at the currents, you can see the faces of those it has claimed.

Selene’s throat tightened. She watched the competitors pacing along the riverbank, noting how carefully they avoided even getting their feet wet. Sam stood apart from the rest, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the river.

“How are they supposed to cross it, then?”

Empusa gave her an exaggerated wink. “That’s the challenge! See that demon with the lesions on his skin? That’s who I’m cheering for.”

Selene spotted a short demon below them with tiny holes scattered across his body like coral. “Oh?”

“My nephew. He’s a demon of Mishap. He doesn’t have much chance at outshining your mate, of course, but competition builds character!”

“Uh… yes.”

“No one is strong enough to beat our Samael, are they, Selene?” Queen Thema interjected.

Selene smiled weakly, remembering how Queen Thema still didn’t know the true purpose of the trials.

The three of them watched as Ghar performed his duties as master of ceremonies, crossing off the names of competitors on a parchment scroll while new arrivals streamed in. The last one to arrive was Drath, looking like the Grim Reaper in a long black cloak, rubbing his six arms together.

When all thirty contenders had gathered, Asmodeus began to climb up one of the scaffolds. It was a windy day, and Selene held her breath as the structure swayed under his weight.

She was surprised by how sluggish the king’s movements were. Deliberate, heavy. Was his physical form decaying along with his power? Below, she caught a flicker of concern on Sam’s face and knew he had noticed it, too.

Once Asmodeus was in sight of all the spectators, he addressed them with excitement.

“Welcome, everyone! The last trial tested the strength and ferocity of our competitors. This trial will determine which among them is cunning, but also favored. The stakes are much higher, for if you fail this test, you’ll become one with the river. ”

A cheer rose from the crowd. Empusa nudged Selene excitedly, which only made Selene’s stomach churn harder. Queen Thema clapped delicately.

“Turn your gaze toward the horizon. In the distance, you can see the Purgatory preparing to dock,” Asmodeus said .

Selene followed the others’ demons' gaze, squinting to see through the mist that hung in the air. After a few moments she made out a massive, dark shape moving through the water. A sudden gust tore the mist apart, unveiling a sailing vessel like nothing she had ever imagined.

It was a monstrous fusion of Viking longship and antique steamboat, as long as a river barge and towering ten stories high. A wooden figurehead of a hooded ferryman jutted from the prow, its outstretched hand turned upward as if demanding payment.

“What is that?” Selene whispered.

“The great ship Purgatory!” Empusa said. “Any demon who spends time outside the Underworld must purify themselves by sailing home on the Purgatory. There, they can spend time in reflection, rid themselves of any mortal attachments, and catch up on the news of the realm.”

Selene could see demons hanging off the ship, hooting and waving to the crowd. Misty white shapes darted around the black sails and smokestacks frantically. “Are there souls aboard as well?”

Empusa’s laugh wheezed like a lifelong smoker. “Oh, yes. Servitude can be an effective punishment.”

Selene was about to ask what she meant, but Asmodeus’s voice stopped her.

“I have placed ten coins inside the ferryman’s hand. Those who can cross the river to retrieve them will advance to the next round. Those who fail? Well, they will truly understand the river’s hatred. May the first contender step forward!”

The moment the trial began, Selene wished she had just stayed in their chambers like Sam had once suggested.

Instead of having the competitors try to reach the Purgatory all at once, the king had them each compete individually.

It was more entertaining for the demons, but gut-wrenching for anyone with human sensibilities to watch .

The first demon, clearly not the brightest, thought he could swim across the river. He strutted forward smugly draped head to toe in spider webbing, seemingly certain it would serve as armor. Or maybe floatation?

With a triumphant battle whoop, he leapt into the River of Hatred. Just as Selene—and probably everyone else—had suspected, the spider webbing offered no protection. His cry dissolved into a gurgling silence the instant he hit the water. A few bubbles rose.

Then nothing.

The second competitor, also brimming with misplaced confidence, believed he could launch himself across the river by having a few friends hurl him like a javelin.

Four demons each grabbed one of his limbs. Then the crowd went quiet as the demon counted down.

“Three! Two! One!”

With a grunting heave, his friends hurled him skyward. He soared about ten feet before plummeting into the river with a spectacular splash. His scream was cut off mid-note, swallowed whole by the water.

And so it continued.

For what felt like hours, Selene watched demon after demon try and fail to cross the river.

Some attempted to ride makeshift rafts of bones or barrels, others tried clumsy magick or charms to carry them across.

One attempted to part the river like Moses, only for it to swallow him whole when he set foot on the exposed riverbed.

Eventually, a demon of Vanity became the first to succeed.

Small and wiry—probably eighty pounds soaking wet—he had bribed a group of imps to fly him across.

He snatched the coin from the ferryman’s wooden hand with such exaggerated flourish that he immediately fumbled it, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.

But with a swift recovery, he caught it midair, making him one of the winners.

Another demon succeeded by managing to float across on a waterlogged armchair.

A third demon, clad in leather armor and a steel helmet etched with a flame, used his wings to fly across the river and back.

Though simple, it was an impressive feat, considering most winged demons were too weak to cover such a distance or were immediately thrown off course by the wind.

When it was Drath’s turn, Selene cheered alongside the other sadistic demons that he would fail miserably—and fatally.

But he successfully crossed the river on enormous iron stilts, sealing his place among the handful of victors.

After him, another demon failed to cross, stumbling over a levitation incantation.

The next one, however, recited it correctly and made it across.

The longer the trial dragged on, the more Selene’s distress grew. The absurdity of it all—the pointless deaths, the howling laughter at each failure—made her hands curl into fists. What was supposed to be a contest of wits and competence had become cruelty parading as destiny.

A few scaffolding rows down, she saw Borias spring from his seat in a burst of anger. He was shaking his head with what looked like disgust. Selene watched him leave, grateful that she might not be the only one struggling with this spectacle.

“I hate this,” Selene muttered under her breath.

A nearby demon with double rows of teeth like a shark turned to hiss at her, but when Selene quickly slammed down the pyramid of her mind, he backed off.

Then a thought came to her suddenly:

We should go back to Aurelia early.

She was surprised by the idea, but she didn’t immediately dismiss it. If she wanted to, she could walk up to Sam right now, take his hand, and transport them back to Snowmelt. No more trials. No more worrying. Whoever became the Dark Sovereign wouldn’t be their problem anymore.

But Sam would never forgive her. That was one of the things she loved about him, his relentless sense of honor. Running away from something hard wasn’t in his nature. She might find relief in the moment, but for him, it would be a deep betrayal.

Then if I can’t take him home, I have to get him out of the trials .

Determination burned in her chest. Tomorrow, she was going to find something—anything—to give them a clue about who the next Dark Sovereign should be.

She would study and read until her eyes crossed.

Turn the entire library inside out and upside down if she had to.

And if the answer wasn’t there? She’d ransack the Hall of Demonic Canon, interrogate every elder demon she could find, and search every ancient building in the Underworld until she did.

Because this was going to be the last trial Sam ever faced.