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“I am.” The words reverberated through the air. “And you are trespassers. You do not belong here.” The being paused as he continued to watch them, almost as if in thought. “That’s not entirely correct,” it amended. “One of you could belong here. But she is”—there was another pause—“wrong.”

Jewel frowned. It had to be speaking of her mother, or the spectrum that masqueraded as her mother. The shadowy figure before them was correct. Jewel’s ghostly mom was not right.

Andora stepped forward, nearly aligning herself with the alpha, but Fane held out his arm, stopping her from passing him. The sprite queen’s hand tightened on the hilt of her blade. “We are seeking answers. We didn’t come to fight. In fact, we didn’t come here at all. We were sent here.”

“Answers,” the ruler repeated, the word dripping with disdain. “You enter my—Raja, the Ruler of the Realm of the Dead—domain, disrupt the balance, and now you dare to ask for answers?”

Jewel’s heart pounded as the figure’s gaze shifted to her. It was like a physical weight, pinning her in place.

“You,” it said, the voices growing quieter, more focused. “You reek of the living and the dead. You are a contradiction, an abomination. Something pure that has been tainted by the defiled.”

Jewel flinched, her arms wrapping tighter around herself.

Her stomach twisted painfully at its words.

“I—”Her voice faltered. She didn’t know what to say, how to defend herself against something so ancient, so powerful.

And it wasn’t like the being was wrong. Jewel was tainted, made a witch by an evil fae.

Her hands were covered in the blood of the innocent people taken by them.

She’d betrayed her mate and her pack, and conspired with a deranged sprite.

Even if she’d done it because of her love for her mom, what Jewel had done was wrong.

Fane growled, stepping in front of her as if to shield her from the ruler’s gaze. “She is none of those things.” His voice was low and dangerous. “She’s here because she has no choice. We all are.”

“No choice?” The ruler’s laughter was a thunderclap, shaking the ground beneath their feet. “You always have a choice. You chose to enter my realm. You chose to disturb the dead. And now you will face the consequences.”

The shadows around them surged, writhing like living things. Jewel’s pulse raced as the ground beneath her feet shifted and twisted, as if it were alive. Her mother’s ghost reappeared suddenly, standing between her and the ruler, its translucent form flickering like a dying flame.

“Stop.” The ghost’s voice, soft but firm, sent a chill down her spine.

If they weren’t standing before a being that might be able to smite them, she would have let her shock come to the forefront.

But she needed to keep her focus. So she just listened as the ghost of her mother spoke again, and more than that, Jewel could see the woman her mother had once been.

Fierce and loving. “She is not your enemy. None of them are.”

The ruler’s burning eyes narrowed. “You defend her, even though she is the reason your peace has been disturbed? This gypsy healer, wrapped in darkness and deceit. I can see what you have done, Jewel Black. I have heard, even locked away here, about the gypsy healer turned witch, tainted with dark magic by a fae who gave into the darkness, answering the call of greed and power.”

Jewel wanted to be swallowed up by the ground beneath her to escape his scrutiny.

His words were like knives being stabbed into her flesh, leaving gaping wounds.

He only spoke the truth, and yet the truth hurt worse than anything she’d ever experienced.

Even the first time she’d been torn from Dalton hadn’t hurt like having her transgressions thrown in her face, hitting her like a freight train going a hundred miles an hour.

The massive being looked back at Jewel’s ghost of a mom. “You are dead. Why do you care for the living?”

“She is my daughter,” the ghost replied. Its form trembled as if the effort of speaking was too much. “And you will not harm her.”

There was a long, tense silence. The ruler stared at the ghost, its crimson gaze unblinking. Then, slowly, it turned back to Jewel.

“You carry the weight of the dead,” it said, its voice quieter now, almost curious. “And yet you are tied to the living. You do not belong here.”

“I know.” Jewel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But we need your help. Please.”

The ruler tilted its head again, considering her. “Help? You seek my help? What could you possibly offer me in return?”

Jewel’s throat went dry. She didn’t have an answer.

What could she possibly offer to something so ancient, so powerful?

She didn’t even have anything to offer her mate , her pack, her dead mother.

She glanced at Fane, at Andora, and then Heather, but none of them spoke.

The weight of the moment fell squarely on her shoulders.

Because it was her fault they were here.

No matter Fane’s words, Andora’s ancient wisdom, or Heather’s wisecracks.

This burden fell on Jewel. Whatever it took to get them out of this situation, it was her sacrifice to make.

“I…” she began, her voice trembling. “I don’t have anything to offer.

But if you don’t help us, something worse is coming.

Something that will destroy not just the living, but the dead as well.

The balance you speak of is already being screwed to hell in a handbasket back in the human realm.

There will be no coming back from the chaos that Celise is planning.

So you won’t just be helping us. You’ll be helping your own realm and all supernaturals. ”

The ruler’s eyes flared brighter, and the shadows around it seemed to ripple with anger. “You presume to threaten me and my realm?”

“No!” Jewel said quickly. “Listen, dammit.” Maybe it wasn't the smartest move to lose her cool with an omnipotent entity who appeared indifferent to their reasons for entering his realm; to him, their mere presence was sufficient grounds for punishment. But, whatever. Her life was a shitshow, and she frankly didn’t care if he killed her where she stood, as long as he would help her friends.

“I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you.

The sprite I mentioned is Celise. She has something called the Book of the Dead.

Maybe you’ve heard of it?” The sarcasm wasn’t necessary, but Jewel was getting pissed.

“And she’s using it to do all sorts of messed up stuff.

She wants to open your realm to the human realm.

She’s letting demons out of hell. She’s spreading darkness like it’s seeds on fertile ground, and if she isn’t stopped, she’ll tear apart the balance between life and death.

Your realm won’t be safe. None of us will be. ”

“Okay, when you lay it out like that, I really feel like it’s more serious than you first let on,” Heather muttered as she stepped closer to Jewel, reaching out until she rested a hand on Jewel’s arm.

“How on earth could you possibly think it wasn’t serious?” Jewel hissed. “We’re in a forgotten realm without our mates.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t just say that to the Lord of the Underworld. You gave a Braveheart speech basically telling him the apocalypse is coming.”

Jewel’s gaze stayed on the massive ruler as she responded to Heather. “For all intents and purposes, it is.”

The ruler was silent for a long moment, its gaze boring into her. Jewel felt like it was stripping her bare, peeling back every layer of her soul to see the truth of her words. Finally, it—he or

whatever—spoke.

“Celise. I have heard whispers of this name, of her so-called power. ” The words were laced with something that might have been fear or fury—maybe a little, or a lot, of both. “She still holds nothing on me.”

“Are you sure about that, Rajy-boy?” Heather snapped.

“Because you sound a little shaken to me, and I hear all the things. Like any little tone you don’t want someone to hear in your voice?

This girl”—she pointed to herself—“hears it. And what I hear is you shaking in your Dead Realm boots.” She shrugged. “I mean, just saying.”

Jewel’s eyes were wide as she stared at the other healer. “What in the actual hell, Heather? Are you trying to get us killed?”

Heather frowned. “No. If I wanted to get us killed I would have pointed out that he sounds like a wuss, and because he’s a wuss, this is really all his fault.

You’ve taken on so much of the blame for this.

And you shouldn’t. If we just need to lay blame somewhere, then let’s make sure at least some of it is dropped at the feet of the correct candidate. ”

“Now would be a good time to stop talking,” Andora hissed.

“Then help us.” Fane ignored all three of them, Jewel included, and stepped forward. “Tell us how to get out of your realm and share with us what we need to do to stop her.”

The ruler’s gaze shifted to him, then back to Jewel.

“The living have no place in my realm. But now that you are here, I cannot release you. I am trapped in this place and do not hold the power to open the veil.” Jewel realized that the voice had become distinctly male the more they spoke to the ruler, and it reeked of bitterness.

“But blood magic reveals many things. The greater the sacrifice, the better. If you want to leave the Realm of the Dead, you will each need to be willing to make such a sacrifice.”

“Dammit,” Heather spat out. “Why does it always come back to giving shit up? Haven’t I given enough up already?

Haven’t we all? And”—she tilted her head slightly as she looked in the direction of the ruler despite not being able to see him—“why do you suddenly sound much more male and less, well, all the things?”