Darkness.

  Luca drifted in and out of consciousness, his awareness flickering like a candle fme in the wind. Sometimes he sensed hands on his body, voices urgently calling his name, the sting of medicinal herbs on his wounds. Other times, there was only the void—a pce between life and death where pain could not follow.

  In these moments of suspended existence, he tried to make sense of what had happened. The attack. The gods' voices in his mind. His children's cries as they were torn away through impossible portals.

  My family.

  Grief surged through whatever remained of his consciousness. He had failed them. Failed to protect the children from powers beyond mortal comprehension.

  But you did not break.

  The thought came from somewhere deeper than himself, a recognition of truth that resonated through his fading awareness. He had not broken. He had not harmed his children, no matter what torture they inflicted upon him. He had remained defiant to his st breath.

  In his moments of lucidity, he heard the physicians' whispered conversations. Words like "impossible" and "beyond healing" drifted to his ears. They did not expect him to survive until the Queen's return. Perhaps they were right. He could feel himself slipping further away with each passing hour, the tenuous thread connecting him to life growing thinner.

  Lilith will find them, he thought. She will save them where I could not.

  During one of his briefly conscious moments, Luca heard new voices. The royal physician speaking urgently: "We found him in the library, surrounded by the bodies of guards who tried to protect him. Whatever attacked moved through our defenses like they weren't there. Many survivors speak of impossible cold, of shadows that moved with purpose."

  "And the children?" A councilor's voice, strained with concern.

  "No sign. The hidden chamber behind the bookcase was open, but empty. The consort managed a few words before psing into unconsciousness again. He spoke of... gods. Of Eternals who took the children."

  "Delirium from his injuries, surely."

  "Perhaps. But expin the scorched circle on the library floor. Expin how the temperature drops ten degrees when you enter that room. Expin how six ravens died simultaneously in the courtyard at the moment of the attack."

  The voices faded as Luca slipped back into the void. Time lost meaning. He could have been drifting for hours or days.

  In his deeper moments of unconsciousness, he found himself approaching a threshold. The darkness began to shift, lightening at its edges. An ending, then. Or perhaps a beginning. He felt himself expanding, dissolving, the tether to his broken body growing impossibly thin.

  Luca would have flinched if he still possessed a body. What more can you take from me? he asked wordlessly. I have nothing left.

  You have your defiance. Your... pride. Contempt infused the final word. Even in death, you resist the natural order.

  What do you want of me?

  Want? Aurelian's presence expanded, filling the void with cold light. I want nothing. But the bance requires correction. Your obstinance demands... special attention.

  Another presence joined them in the void—the split energy of Maeris, simultaneously radiant and shadowed.

  Brother, is this necessary? Her dual-toned voice carried an unexpected note of hesitation. He has suffered enough. Let his spirit pass naturally.

  He resisted to the end, Aurelian replied. Such defiance cannot go unanswered. The Queen already races home, her fury building with every league. When she finds his broken body, when she discovers their children missing, her rage will require a target.

  And we will be that target, Maeris observed.

  Indeed. But her vengeance will be directionless if she believes her consort simply died. No, Sister. We must ensure she knows exactly what became of him—and that the possibility of rescue remains, however remote.

  You intend to torment her with hope? Even Maeris, embodiment of Discord, seemed taken aback.

  I intend to teach her the consequences of defying the natural order. The consort's soul will serve as object lesson to both.

  Luca felt a ripple of fear pass through his disembodied consciousness. Whatever Aurelian pnned would be worse than death. The cold presence approached, enveloping what remained of Luca's essence.

  Now, broken one, Aurelian's voice reverberated through him, you shall truly learn the meaning of suffering.

  Pain erupted through Luca's consciousness—not physical, for he had no body, but something deeper. The very fabric of his soul seemed to tear as Aurelian's power gripped him.

  You believe yourself strong because you endured a broken body? Aurelian's voice was merciless. Let us see how you fare with one more broken still.

  Luca felt himself being compressed, confined, forced into a vessel too small and damaged to contain him properly. Awareness of a body returned—but not his body. This form was twisted, disjointed, its limbs bent at impossible angles. Pain unlike anything he had known in life coursed through it, a symphony of agony from countless malformations.

  Your blindness was a mercy, Aurelian continued. So first, you shall see the horror of your new form. And then, that sight too shall be taken from you.

  Vision flooded into Luca—actual sight after years of darkness. But the gift was cruel. The first thing his new eyes beheld was his own reflection in a mirror of bck ice: a grotesque figure, limbs askew, spine curved unnaturally, face distorted. Worse than his original disabilities a hundredfold.

  He had only moments to absorb the horror of his appearance before darkness returned—not the familiar darkness of his previous blindness, but a painful void, as if his eyes had been burned away after being forced to witness his deformity.

  Now you carry the memory of your monstrosity, yet are denied even the ability to navigate your new realm, Aurelian said with cold satisfaction. Truly broken in every way possible.

  Welcome to your eternity, broken one.

  The void dissolved, repced by a ndscape of fire and shadow. Heat scorched his new, sensitive skin. Sulfurous air burned his lungs. Distant screams echoed across desote pins.

  The demon pne, Aurelian announced with cold satisfaction. Where the rejected and condemned serve those stronger than themselves. Here you will begin at the lowest rank—a sve. Here you will learn your proper pce in the order of existence.

  Luca tried to speak, but his malformed mouth produced only a gurgling moan.

  Oh, you will learn to speak eventually, Aurelian assured him. You will learn to beg. To plead. To regret your defiance. And when you have been completely broken—in spirit as well as body—perhaps then I will consider releasing you.

  A path of escape fshed briefly in Luca's mind—a memory of the knife he had tried to turn against himself in the library.

  Death will not free you, Aurelian said, reading his thoughts. Each time you die, you will return to this moment, to this body, to this suffering. Only by proving yourself worthy—by rising through the ranks of this realm, by defeating the demon king himself—can you earn release.

  Even through his agony, Luca recognized the impossibility of the task. A broken human sve defeating the ruler of demons? It was a sentence of eternal torment disguised as a chance for redemption.

  Farewell, broken one. We shall not meet again until you have learned humility... or until the end of time. Whichever comes first.

  The presence withdrew, leaving Luca alone in his twisted new body, surrounded by the hellish ndscape of the demon pne. Aurelian's final words echoed in his mind:

  Your Queen may seek you. She may even find traces of your soul. But she will never reach you here. The natural order will be restored, one way or another.

  As consciousness fully settled into his new form, pain overwhelmed him. Luca screamed then—a sound of purest anguish that carried no words but held all the grief of a father separated from his children, a husband torn from his wife, a soul condemned to eternal suffering.

  In the celestial realm, Aurelian turned away from the silver pool, its surface now showing only ripples.

  "It is complete," he said with satisfaction. "The lesson is prepared."

  Maeris studied her brother with her divided face—light half troubled, dark half intrigued. "This punishment exceeds our usual methods. The others may question its necessity."

  "Let them question," Aurelian replied dismissively. "When the Queen's rage manifests, when she turns against the divine order as I predict she will, they will understand the wisdom of my actions."

  From the shadows, Morrin observed in silence. The threads of fate around Luca's soul had not dimmed or broken as expected. Instead, they stretched across the boundaries between realms, connecting to Lilith's own fate-lines with a brilliance that troubled him. Throughout eternity, Morrin had rarely seen soul-bonds of such intensity.

  The paths ahead were obscured, even to his cosmic vision. But one thing seemed increasingly clear: Aurelian had not secured victory. He had merely changed the battlefield.

  On the northern road to Karthia, Lilith rode at the head of her diplomatic party, her thoughts troubled by strange dreams. For three nights, she had awakened gasping, clutching at the blue stone amulet Luca had given her. Each morning, she found it cold to the touch despite resting against her skin.

  They were a day's ride from King Darrhen's mountain fortress when a scout appeared on the horizon, riding hard toward them. Lady Merina noted the queen's sudden alertness.

  "Perhaps news from the king?" she suggested. "An escort to guide us through the mountain passes?"

  "That is not one of Darrhen's men," Lilith replied, eyes narrowing. "Those are our colors."

  As the rider drew closer, Lilith recognized Ron, one of the younger members of the castle guard. His horse was thered with sweat, its sides heaving from hard riding. The young man's face was pale, his eyes haunted.

  He practically fell from his mount as he reached them, dropping to one knee before Lilith.

  "Your Majesty," he gasped, "the castle... attack... three days ago..."

  Ice formed in Lilith's veins. "Speak clearly, Ron. What has happened?"

  The guard raised his face, and she saw then that it was streaked with tears. "The castle was attacked by... something not human. The royal guard fought, but they were overwhelmed. Lieutenant Darian, Sergeant Thorne... all dead."

  The world seemed to tilt beneath Lilith. "My children? My husband?"

  Ron's eyes dropped. "The children are missing, Your Majesty. Lord Luca was found grievously injured in the library. He fought to protect them, they say, but..." His voice broke. "The royal physician has been working day and night to keep him alive. They don't know if he'll survive until your return."

  Master Orlen stepped forward, his weathered face tight with rage and grief. "How many attacked? How did they breach the defenses?"

  "No one knows," Ron replied. "Those who saw them clearly did not survive. They came without warning, struck directly at the royal family, and vanished—taking the prince and princess with them."

  Lilith's mind raced through calcutions of distance and time. Three days by the fastest horse to reach the castle. Luca might already be gone. Her children in the hands of unknown enemies.

  "Did they leave any message?" she asked, her voice unnaturally calm. "Any demand for ransom?"

  "Nothing, Your Majesty. Only..." Ron hesitated.

  "Speak freely," she commanded.

  "Lord Luca regained consciousness briefly," the guard said reluctantly. "He spoke of gods. Of Eternals taking the children to separate worlds. The physician believes it to be delirium from his injuries, but..."

  "But what?"

  "The survivors speak of impossible cold. Of assaints that moved like smoke and shadow. Of voices that spoke directly into their minds." Ron shuddered at the memory. "It was no ordinary attack, Your Majesty."

  The blue stone at Lilith's throat turned ice-cold, as if confirming the guard's words. Luca's warnings about divine interference, Elena's dreams of falling stars—all of it coalesced into a terrible crity.

  "Prepare to ride," she ordered, turning to her escort. "We return to the castle immediately."

  "Your Majesty," Lord Taren protested, "the diplomatic mission—"

  "Is a diversion," Lilith cut him off. "Can you not see? We were deliberately drawn away from the castle. This border dispute, King Darrhen's sudden aggression—all manufactured to separate me from my family."

  Understanding dawned on Lord Taren's face, followed by rage. "Then King Darrhen is complicit in this attack?"

  "Perhaps," Lilith said grimly. "Or perhaps he too is being maniputed. We will discover the truth in time. For now, my family needs me."

  Within minutes, the diplomatic party had reversed direction, leaving behind the formal carriage and supply wagons. Lilith led them at a punishing pace, stopping only when the horses required rest. Through day and night they rode, each hour heightening her fear and dread.

  On the dawn of the third day, they crested the final hill that overlooked the capital. The castle stood intact, its white stones gleaming in the morning light. No signs of battle were visible from this distance—no smoke, no destruction. But Lilith felt no relief. The greatest damage, she knew, would be hidden within those walls.

  As they thundered through the city streets, citizens stepped aside in shock and confusion. Word of the attack had been contained, it seemed, to prevent panic. At the castle gates, guards snapped to attention, their faces solemn.

  Lilith dismounted before her horse had fully stopped, striding into the courtyard where First Minister Aldric waited, his aged face grave.

  "Where is he?" she demanded without preamble.

  "In your chambers, Your Majesty," Aldric replied. "The physician thought familiar surroundings might—"

  She was already moving, taking the grand staircase two steps at a time, her riding clothes dusty and travel-stained. Guards and servants pressed themselves against walls as she passed, their expressions telling her what she would find before she reached her destination.

  The royal chambers were hushed when Lilith entered, the air heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. Five healers surrounded the bed, their expressions shifting from intense concentration to resigned sorrow as they noticed her arrival.

  "Your Majesty," the royal physician began, "we have done everything possible, but his injuries..."

  "Leave us," Lilith commanded, her voice raw from three days of hard riding and barely controlled grief.

  The healers exchanged gnces but obeyed, filing out silently. When the doors closed behind them, Lilith approached the bed.

  Luca y motionless, his broken body barely disturbing the bnkets that covered him. His face, once handsome despite his blindness, was now a map of bruises and cuts. His breathing came in shallow, bored gasps. But as she drew near, his head turned slightly toward her, sensing her presence even in his near-death state.

  "Luca," she whispered, taking his hand gently between hers.

  His eyelids fluttered but did not open. "Lilith?" His voice was a rasp, nearly inaudible.

  "I'm here." She fought to keep her voice steady. "I came as quickly as I could."

  "The children..." His fingers twitched weakly in hers.

  "We will find them," she promised fiercely. "Tell me what happened. Tell me who took them."

  As she held Luca's hand, Lilith felt a chill enter the room—not the natural cold of winter, but something ancient and malevolent. The blue stone at her throat turned to ice against her skin. The candle fmes dimmed, though no wind stirred.

  Luca sensed it too. His body tensed, his blind eyes opening wide with sudden awareness. "They're here," he gasped. "Come to finish..."

  A pressure built in the air, a sense of waiting presence. Lilith felt it pressing against her mind, seeking entry. She resisted, her grip on Luca's hand tightening.

  "Who is here?" she demanded, though she already suspected the answer.

  "Aurelian," he managed. "Maeris. I refused to break. Now they want my soul."

  The temperature in the room plummeted. Frost formed on the windows, spreading in delicate patterns. The mirrors clouded, then cleared to reflect not the room but a realm of impossible architecture and perfect, cold light.

  Indeed, broken one, a voice spoke directly into both their minds, beautiful and terrible in its perfection. We have waited for this reunion. For the Queen to witness the consequence of defiance.

  Luca's body arched suddenly in pain, his face contorting. "Fight them," he gasped to Lilith. "Whatever happens... find our children. Tell them I never broke."

  "I will," she vowed, tears falling freely now despite her efforts to remain strong. "And I will make these gods pay for what they've done. This I swear to you."

  Then his body went rigid, back arching as if in terrible pain. His mouth opened in a silent scream, eyes flying open—not sightless now, but filled with a terrible awareness, seeing horrors beyond mortal comprehension.

  "No!" Lilith cried, clutching his hand tighter.

  But it was not death that took him—at least, not death alone. Something tore from his body, a luminous essence that Lilith felt more than saw. The presence in the room intensified, cold and ancient and profoundly malevolent.

  For the briefest moment, Luca's consciousness seemed to linger, locked in battle with the invisible force. Then, with a sound like shattered gss, his soul was wrenched away.

  His body colpsed back onto the bed, truly empty now. The warmth, the essence, the indefinable quality that had made him Luca was gone. What remained was merely a shell.

  And in that moment of wrenching separation, Lilith heard it—not with her ears, but directly in her mind. Aurelian's voice, cold and perfect and unutterably smug:

  The lesson begins, Queen of Broken Things. This is the price of defiance.

  A brief, terrible vision fshed through her mind: Luca's soul, bound in a grotesquely deformed body, cast into a realm of fire and shadow. His suffering. His eternal torment.

  Seek him if you wish, the voice continued. But know that he exists beyond your reach now, in a pne where only the strongest survive. And he... is anything but strong.

  Lilith's grief crystallized into something harder, colder, more dangerous. She rose from the bedside, her entire body vibrating with barely contained fury.

  "You believe you have won," she said aloud to the empty room, knowing the Eternal could hear her. "You believe you have taught me submission through suffering. But you have made a grave miscalcution, Aurelian."

  Outside the castle windows, clouds began to gather with unnatural speed, darkening the morning sky.

  "You have not broken me," Lilith continued, her voice gaining strength. "You have freed me. From compassion. From mercy. From every restraint that might have tempered my vengeance."

  Lightning crackled across the sky, though no storm had been forecast. The air in the chamber grew heavy, charged with potential.

  "I am not finished," she promised the unseen watcher. "I will find my children. I will find my husband. And I will tear down your divine realm stone by stone until you beg for the mercy you denied him."

  The windows of the royal chamber shattered inward as a gust of impossible wind swept through the room. The blue stone at Lilith's throat glowed with an inner fire, responding to her rage.

  Through her grief, through her fury, Lilith sensed something awakening within her—a power she had never known she possessed. Perhaps it had always been there, dormant until this moment of absolute need. Perhaps it was being born from the intensity of her loss and rage.

  Whatever its source, she welcomed it. Embraced it. If divine powers had taken her family, then she would become something equal to them—or greater.

  She looked down at Luca's empty shell once more, committing his face to memory, feeding the fire of her resolve.

  "Wait for me," she whispered. "This is not the end."

  In the celestial realm, Aurelian turned away from the silver pool with satisfaction, unaware that Morrin continued to watch the threads of fate as they rewove themselves around Lilith—threads that now burned with an intensity that rivaled the Eternals themselves.

  The game of gods had changed the pyers, but it had not determined the outcome. Not yet.