Dante
He watched as they drove off, everything in him screaming to snatch her out of the car and toss her into his.
Fucking Evanora, working him up, making him feel… fucking feel anything other than the rage he tried to distract himself from. And to try to push him away after giving him a taste of her addicting affection last night? No. Fuck that.
It seemed every time he let her out of his sight, she nearly died. He wanted to take her to Inferno where he could sit her in a room and shoot anyone who entered. And he did mean anyone.
But she wasn't his prisoner, the very thing she was struggling not to be with her parents.
That realization softened his protective rage and he realized something in him had shifted. A strange gentleness was replacing his darker instincts. He found himself acting strangely tender and making room for awkward chivalry.
Carrying her bag, opening her door? Who was he? He'd never had to do this kind of shit before. But he'd also never wanted to.
No, somewhere in his memory, before all the bullshit that had made him calloused, he vaguely remembered being… loving.
Only to his mother. Because she'd loved him. His chest tightened like old scars ripping open with the image of her kind eyes flashing behind his own. Painful memories swirled before he could slam his mental doors shut.
He exhaled slowly to compose himself, then stepped out into the morning light that felt colder without Eva nearby.
Leaving her unprotected gnawed at him but he had to trust she was safe on her family's property, where she shouldn't have left in the first place.
Instead of following them, he drove to Inferno and descended into the Nether to hunt for answers in the shadows.
Someone somewhere had to know about last night's attack. Serpaxos attacks were legendary for their rarity; they only struck when provoked. Or commanded.
Originating from Aquaria's ancient borderlands, their kind was forged by the Nether's most notoriously noble Primordial. Some found it weak for Leviathan to preach harmony and peaceful coexistence but Aquarian creed had remained unbroken for centuries before his capture.
His Proxy, Delrix, seemed to continue ruling by their honored seal: Power serves wisdom, not bloodlust.
It seemed unlikely the Aquarian Proxy would be commanding the creature but Dante wouldn't rule him or the other Proxy out of his list of suspects.
He set out for the nearest hub of Nether information and trading, the black markets of Umbra in Lilith's former territory.
The Umbra Portal Ring loomed outside Infernia's Blackstone Bridge, a towering archway of twisted iron and pulsing crimson runes.
Guarding the portal were formidable Darkhaven Enforcers, employed by the Proxies, who eyed every passerby with suspicion.
Around them swirled a constant tide of Malevolent. Hooded figures such as demons, casters, and worse all hurrying to Umbra or lugging crates of dark cargo.
Dante moved stealthily through the crowd, easily blending in with his dark leather jacket. Before leaving his drop point, he'd deliberately obscured his appearance. A faded red bandana wrapped loosely around his lower face, covering his mouth, nose, and jawline. And his worn black hood was up, casting shadows over his eyes that remained visible.
He eyed the portal's guards, knowing the usual rules. Passage through the glowing archway typically required either a Netherseal, a magical rune binding one to a Proxies service, or a Trade Chit, a permit issued by their region's High Council.
Neither marked his skin nor filled his pocket.
But there were whispers in Infernia's shadows that spoke of a third, riskier option. A Shadow Toll, or an offering, that might bribe his way through.
Dante walked calmly towards the guards, his trade clenched in his fist, but as he approached prickling sensations crawled up his spine.
He felt eyes on him, though scanning the crowded bridge revealed nothing out of place. Faces of hooded figures and demons blurred together, all of them hurrying to conduct business.
His heart rate remained steady but his instincts screamed he was being followed. Still, he pushed forward, caution only slowing him down a moment. He'd finally reached the Enforcers. Hulking war demons with scarred scales blocked his path.
One stepped forward, voice low and even, “Seal or chit, traveler. Blackmarket access isn't charity."
Dante opened his hand to reveal the yellowed and serrated Serpaxos tooth he'd pulled from his arm and the guard's eyes narrowed. "What in… where did you get this?"
Dante met the Enforcers' gaze calmly, his voice low and even as he lied, “I found it on a dead hunter in Infernia's outer ruins. No mark on him, just this tooth lodged in his armor. Figured it was worth something."
His eyes never wavered and his expression stayed neutral while the guard eyed him skeptically before glancing at the tooth again, seeming to weigh its authenticity.
The guard exchanged skeptical glances with his partner, both their hands resting on their weapon hilts. In his pocket, Dante's other hand gripped his hidden blade as he hoped he wouldn't have to fight his way through the portal.
Finally, the guard nodded curtly at his partner. "This… appears legitimate. Token accepted."
He pocketed the tooth before he stepped aside, gesturing Dante towards the shimmering portal behind them. Hazy purple clouds swirled within its flickering crimson edges and made the air around it ripple with dark magic.
Dante stepped through the Umbra Portal Ring, the familiar sensation of magic dissolving around him as he emerged into Umbra City's Shadowstreet district.
Unlike Infernia, Lilith's region wasn't bathed in an orange haze of flickering ethereal flames dancing across the sky. As dusk crept over Umbra, the twilight shifted like a living entity making shimmering, iridescent colors bleed from the horizon into night. Blackness began to taint the soft blue-purple hues of the retiring twilight and it cast an eerie glow on gothic spires and ancient buildings.
Soft blue lights clung to the architecture like ghostly ivy, their stone walls seeming to absorb the faint light leaving the sky. While faintly lit mushrooms and eerie lanterns, being lit by the Casters of the area, punctuated shadows.
Umbra's beauty was rooted in familiar yet shadowed splendor, echoing Earth's realms Moscow's soaring spires, Istanbul's graceful arches, Tehran's majestic domes, and Paris's elegant facades.
Before the rift, humans sought inspiration in Shadowfolk culture like their captivating fashion, mysterious architecture, and enchanting ways.
Lilith's Shadowfolk stirred as dusk surrendered to night. Strigoi emerged from their estates, eyes aglow like lanterns in darkness.
Above, Stoners descended upon rooftops, broad wings unfolding and then settling against their backs like dark cloaks.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Meanwhile, shops awakened as nightly merchants rose from their daytime slumber, conjuring life into Umbra's streets.
Navigating west through Shadowstreet's narrow alleys, Dante turned North into an abandoned warehouse district after nearly ten minutes of walking.
A few Ghouls huddled in some of the corners of the alleyway, scavenging a trash heap. They rooted through trash with grimy hands, familiar shadows on a well-trodden path where a steady stream of pedestrians had grown blind to their presence.
Warehouse number seven loomed ahead, its crumbling facade hiding the black market entrance.
Inside, Dante scanned the crowded stalls and shadowy figures. He sought out individuals nervous around Umbra guards, whispers about the Serpaxos or Keepers, or even those bearing Aquarian tribal markings for connections to the creature's homeland.
As Dante navigated through the crowded stalls, his skin crawled with persistent unease causing him to cautiously scan his surroundings again.
His instincts screamed louder now than they had before the portal. In this crowded place, being watched likely meant he was being targeted.
One hooded figure caught his eye, though it wasn't the source of his unease. An Aquaria wave symbol was visible on their left hand. Dante drew closer, listening in on their low, raspy conversation, though he quickly realized it was unimportant. They only spoke of the same rumors he'd already heard before shifting to trivial matters.
Moving further into the market, he couldn't shake the unease and after he drifted his gaze back into the crowd, he locked onto familiar piercing purple eyes.
His heartbeat quickened.
Those same piercing purple eyes, uncommon among Shadowfolk, yet characteristic of Caster’s, had followed him from the bridge.
He carefully lost himself in the sea of faces, dodging between stalls and narrow alleys letting the eyes disappear from his view.
Minutes of evasive maneuvering later, Dante doubled back and circled around, using vendor carts as cover. His eyes scanned the crowd once more, locking onto the black cloak he'd glimpsed earlier.
With silent precision, he slid through the throng and emerged behind the hooded figure. His blade pressed gently against their lower back.
"You're following me," Dante whispered low and even. "Why?"
The figure slowly turned their head, her purple eyes glinting up at him as the hood and mask fell away, revealing a stunning face with rosy lips that curled into a sly smile.
“Because, Son of Claudia,” she whispered back. “I come bearing warning.”
The shock was only present in his expression for a moment before his eyes narrowed with distrust as he pressed the blade further to make his point. His voice low and cautious, he questioned, “How do you know that name?”
The woman's sly smile grew wider. "Your mother's reputation precedes you, Dante. And yours… is growing.”
Dante's eyes scanned the crowded market stalls cautiously before gently grasping the woman's elbow, guiding her towards a secluded enclave between two large stone warehouses.
The narrow space was dimly lit, with only faint torchlight spilling in from the market. He released her arm and transferred the blade from her back to her throat.
"What do you know of my mother?" he demanded.
The woman's gaze flicked to his hand holding the blade before returning to his face. “An ancient looms and what you seek is hidden within family lines tied to Caster blood.”
He rolled his eyes, hating when these people talked in riddles. Why could nothing ever be simple?
“Cut the mystic speak.” He snapped, pressing the blade into her flesh. “What family line… and what does this have to do with my mother.”
The woman's gaze locked onto his, voice low and even. "My oath to Chaosia is bound, but–”
The woman glanced nervously around their secluded enclave. Dante’s head spun, but he saw only shoppers and merchants; no one seemed focused on them.
She pulled a small scroll hidden in her cloak and placed it into Dante's free hand.
“What is this?”
“Keepers are bound by ancient chains.” She leaned closer to him, ignoring the blade biting into her flesh. “Their Caster essence is silenced, their blood tied with ancient lies. Your mother, Claudia, knew this of her people.”
"Wait, my mother? Was a Keeper?" Dante's shock was barely above a whisper. “You lie.”
She shook her head slowly before leaning in closer and Dante removed the blade before it cut into her any further.
"I speak the truth, their elders… cannot be trusted.” Her voice was barely audible as she continued to search around herself. “Keepers keep secrets, Dante. In their hearts, and from their own blood.”
"What secrets did my mother keep?” His grip on his dagger tightened, mind racing with her implications.
Her eyes locked onto something behind him, widening in alarm and when he turned to search for what had spooked her, she bolted.
“Dammit,” he groaned, chasing after her.
She wove through the crowd easily with her spry frame, eyes darting back but not looking at him. Dante’s larger frame worked harder to push through the angry merchants. He'd almost reached her before he saw the brief glint of a swift blade flash. Her body collapsed between the creatures rushing past, oblivious of her fall until it was too late.
Someone shrieked at the sight of her body and a crowd formed around her that he had to push through.
“Son of… Claudia–” she rasped with a strained expression, clutching her throat. “–must separate… from– key.”
Her hands went limp with her last breath and bright red blood stained her copper throat while her dark cloak pooled around her like spilled ink.
Dante stood frozen with his blade in hand, staring down at her lifeless body before the crowd stopped its stomping. Strong hands grabbed his arms, pulling at his hood and unmasking him.
“Demon Hunter,” a voice bellowed, and the black market crowd erupted into chaos at the sight of him.
“For fucks sake.” He groaned again as Malevolent surged forward like a dark tidal wave. Their eyes blazed with accusation, glowing embers of yellow, orange, and red in the dim light.
"Flesh of Tartarus bears bloodshed!" another voice barked out as he broke free of the two demons' hold.
With claws extended, teeth bared, and dark magic swirling around Dante's feet, he knew there were too many for him to take at once, so he fled the scene.
He did not have time for this bullshit. He'd come for answers to last night's attack and was leaving with more questions.
The sound of stalls crashing down, splintering their wood, mixed with the vendors screaming in protest as Malevolent caused destruction to block his escape. Gravel and dust danced around his boots as he spun to face the onslaught and assess his routes.
One narrow alleyway sandwiched between two warehouses remained. Their walls towered like giants and a faint glow leaked from its end. His heart raced as he clutched the scroll tightly in his fist and sprinted for his escape.
The distant blackmarket chaos slowly muffled but he could still hear the guards shouting, their footsteps pounding cobblestone behind him.
He burst out into the faint street lamp glow, earning strange looks from some Nymphs and Stagoi out for strolls. He'd nearly sprinted in the direction of home, but the realization hit him like a blow. The Darkhaven Enforcers would be more alert with the chaos from the market, making it near impossible to escape through the portal again.
Dante shoved the parchment into his pocket, muttering a curse. He knew he needed to shift realms, but he was far from Tartarus' territory and his usual drop point.
If he ascended now there was no telling where he'd end up on the Breif’s side of Lilith's territory, let alone how he'd get back to San Francisco.
But there was no time to deliberate with the sound of the guards closing in. He quickly forced his body to begin its ascension and focused his mind on home, hoping to get himself as close as possible. His molecules blurred and the edges of the world around him faded like electric smoke.
There was a brief silence before the crackling sound of his body sliding through the realms.
On Earth, Dante rematerialized abruptly, streetlights casting long shadows around him as he stumbled forward, bumping into startled pedestrians. Gasps and angry Russian curses filled the chilly night air as people recoiled from his sudden appearance. They gave him a confused wide berth, sticking close to the vibrant buildings around them.
He took in his surroundings quickly: snow-covered cobblestone streets, onion-shaped church domes in the distance, and Cyrillic signs.
Moscow, Russia.
He pulled his hood back up and moved to a more secluded area to regroup.
Shifting between realms was easier for him, but shifting within the Earth realm was unpredictable and draining. He could try to jump from Moscow to San Francisco, but chances were he'd end up somewhere else entirely; Chicago, Paris, or even Tokyo. It was something he didn't try often since it left him severely weakened for a while. Though he didn't see much of a choice if he didn't want a nearly twelve-hour trip home.
With the way Eva's nights were going, he didn't trust her out of his sight much longer.
So Dante focused his energy on envisioning the bar, feeling his molecules burn again as he forced his body to bend through this reality. This wasn't an ascension that drew on the power of both him and the Nether; this required all of his strength from his core being, and it was excruciatingly painful.
His vision distorted, the Moscow streets faded away, and he fell to his knees before re-solidifying at his new location with a pained groan.
He stood and concentrated on pulling air into his lungs as he tried not to sway with his blinding headache. His eyes adjusted to bright sunlight rather than the dimness of the previous location.
Disoriented, he took in the unfamiliar surroundings of the beach boardwalk's vibrant chaos swirling around him. This time the area was still crowded, but no one seemed to notice him appearing out of nowhere. Colorful umbrellas danced in the ocean breeze, screams of delight erupted from the rollercoaster behind him, and salty air filled his lungs.
His disorientation faded, replaced first by relief once he saw the sign for the Santa Cruz Pier, and then finally, the exhaustion began to settle in.
"Close enough." He exhaled slowly and began looking for a ride.
His eyes locked onto a sleek black motorcycle leaning against a surf school tent. The keys were still in the ignition, momentarily abandoned by its rider. Seizing it, he roared the engine to life and sped north towards San Francisco's misty skyline.
