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Human sustenance.

I must find more.

My Snow Pea seemed satisfied enough with the odd assortment I gathered, yet her fragile human form continued protesting—quite loudly, in fact.

My shadows lash out in agitation, eager to return to our exquisite Parker. They hunger to feast on her decadent flavor, desperate to wring more of those sweet, intoxicating sounds from her lips. Her lingering scent already fades from my body, leaving me restless and growling with impatience. The need to return to my burrow grows urgent, bordering on painful.

First, food and drink for my mortal. Then, I can bury myself, shadows-deep, in her warmth.

The annoying pink tint of my shadows has all but faded, blending once again with the oppressive darkness of the mortal realm. This only serves to agitate them further.

Idiotic, foolish things.

They preen when Parker turns them that absurdly cheerful pink.. Preen. Like peacocks displaying their feathers.

Ridiculous. We are Death.

We do not preen.

Even for the delicious morsel of snowy white flesh that is my intoxicating Parker.

Yet, even now, as I peruse the aisles of this dimly lit human store, my shadows operate of their own accord, plucking nonsense from the shelves and dropping it into the flimsy basket in my grasp.

I scowl down at the latest offering—a box with garish colors and too many fonts.

“What in all seven hells is a granola bar?” I snarl, holding it between two fingers like it might rot me on contact. “She needs sustenance. Real food. Not… boxed horse feed wrapped in deceit.”

But my protests may as well be spoken to empty air; the shadows persist, defiantly tossing more items in—water bottles, canned fruit, crackers—each clinking sound another grating reminder of their rebellion.

I grumble my discontent, stalking forward in search of something specific—an item I have witnessed Parker use before. An offering. Not a gift—no, something to trade for my own gain.

Spotting the familiar bottle on a shelf, I reach to inspect it, sniffing curiously at its soapy scent. My shadows, however, are faster and immediately toss it into the basket along with five identical bottles.

“Ridiculous, useless—” I start, but a sharp tug at my chest interrupts me, pulling my attention elsewhere.

A presence—familiar and immense—fills the small store, its cosmic power rippling outward, pressing against my own. My shadows freeze mid-spree and stretch defensively around me, bristling in retaliation.

A second familiar aura quickly joins the first—chaotic, boisterous, unmistakably irritating—and a dark chuckle rumbles behind me. It’s enough to make me grit my teeth and slowly turn around.

“Well, well, Steorfan,” the bulky, red-skinned demon drawls, an insufferable smirk stretched wide across his face. “Never imagined I’d see you grocery shopping for a mortal.”

A threatening growl vibrates from deep within my chest, spreading outward until my shadows engulf the entire aisle. The bull demon merely laughs, unbothered by the warning. Beside him, his companion—a dark silhouette filled with shimmering constellations—remains eerily still, eyes luminous and unblinking.

Their power is potent—monsters tremble beneath it. But I am not most monsters.

“I suppose even Death tires of its usual diet,” the red demon continues, folding thick, muscular arms across his chest, tail swishing lazily. “Must get dreadfully bland after an eternity.”

Eyeing them up and down, I decide that I’ve been absent from Parker long enough. Grabbing the basket and gathering my shadows closer, I turn away, fully intent on abandoning these nuisances to their cosmic mischief.

Yet another, stronger tug jerks painfully at my chest and I gasp in surprise.

“We came to warn you,” the constellation demon finally speaks, his voice like a whisper from the spaces between stars. “The Evergloom’s new queen needs you.”

The new queen?

Another rumble starts within my chest but abruptly dies as his words sink in. Disbelief and possessiveness spike like twin lightning strikes behind my ribs.

“New queen?” I ask, my voice a low, dangerous rasp, barely coherent beneath the primal growl accompanying it. The cosmic demon remains impassive, his stare unwavering.

“The human you covet has tamed the Gloom itself, Death Devourer. But she is still mortal, and the power threatens to overwhelm her.”

Before I can demand clarity from their riddles, another painful tug rends through me, a raw, anguished scream echoing distantly—one I recognize instantly.

Parker.

“Remember you must compromise to save her.”

I snarl. Idiotic nonsensical cosmic demon riddles. I should have known better than to question him. His answers are never answers at all.

Without another word, my shadows swiftly pool around me and drag me back to my burrow.

Yet, when we arrive, it is not the comforting dark sanctuary scented with her intoxicating citrus aroma that greets us.

Instead, we step into a nightmare. One we did not create.

Parker stands at its center, the entirety of the Evergloom’s pink-tinted power flooding into her body in waves of crackling energy. Her hair floats ethereally around her head as if suspended underwater. Her chin lifts in a silent, anguished scream, eyes blazing like twin supernovas.

“Parker!” I roar, rushing forward, shadows desperately reaching to absorb the overflowing power.

She is too fragile. Too human. Why has the Evergloom chosen her, so forcefully and without mercy?

“No!” My roar echoes like thunder, resonating to the farthest reaches of the realm. She cannot withstand this. I cannot— will not —lose her. “You cannot have her! She is mine!”

My shadows surge, protective and fierce, wrapping tightly around her body, turning vibrant pink upon contact, pulsing fiercely alongside the realm’s overwhelming power.

I pull at the magic coursing beneath her skin, absorbing every ounce possible, but it’s like draining an ocean drop by drop. The power floods relentlessly into her small frame, threatening to shatter her from within.

The Evergloom has claimed her. It has deemed Parker worthy, blind to the limitations of her fragile mortal form.

I continue to siphon off the power, the energy slithering beneath her skin both familiar and alien, tasting oddly citrusy and deeply satisfying. Yet even as I take it in, she continues to fill with more. I cannot slow it fast enough. My shadows strain under the immense force, becoming saturated and overloaded, yet the flow doesn’t relent.

I cannot save her—not with my shadows, not with all the darkness I command.

Not even with my love.

“Do not leave me, Snow Pea,” I rasp desperately, a plea that feels foreign on my tongue. “Not now, not when I’ve finally realized…”

Parker flares brighter, hotter, her body becoming incandescent. My shadows tighten around her desperately, attempting one final push to contain the uncontainable.

A sudden shout draws my attention to a gaping hole ripped into my burrow wall—revealing R?dslakorcu’s beastly snarl and beside him, impossibly, that infuriating human male my Parker values so dearly.

Rage and possessiveness flare simultaneously. My shadows surge forward instinctively, forming a protective wall around Parker and me, warning them off.

Yet another devastating surge of power drives me to my knees, scattering my shadows into useless pink dust once again. Helpless, I catch Parker’s limp form, cradling her unconscious body desperately. Her pulse thrums erratically, her skin aflame with barely contained power. My shadows are gone, my magic spent, and I—Death itself—am utterly powerless.

She hovers dangerously between life and oblivion, and I am forced to confront the unthinkable.

For the first time in my endless existence, I am forced to confront vulnerability.

I raise my gaze, locking eyes with Rad—stunned, uncertain—and the human, equally shaken. Anguish and desperation shred every ounce of pride I’ve ever held, forcing the single plea from my lips—a plea I never imagined myself capable of uttering:

“Help me.”