POV: VOID
If I had known stepping into the human world would spiral into this madness, I would've stayed home… maybe even fought harder for Ayanda.
But her rejection led me here — to a spicy little pumpkin with sticky fingers and dangerously familiar green eyes that stab straight through my soul whenever they land on me.
She hasn't said a word since waking up.
Maybe I hit her too hard.
Maybe she's given up.
Or maybe… she's just enjoying the view.
Can't blame her.
Leperd isn't like her human world. My kingdom glows — a savanna and rainforest city carved in black and grey crystal, shimmering under an eternal night sky. The towers reflect starlight like obsidian glass, casting reflections as sharp as the people who live here.
But my mind isn't on the skyline.
It's on her.
The faint glow of my mother's necklace pulses beneath her skin — the same ghostly light I saw in my mother's final moments. That relic should've died with her. Instead, it clings to this mortal like she was born to wear it.
Like it chose her.
And that infuriates me.
I clench my jaw, glancing at her again — bruised, defiant, silent. Something about her stirs familiar feelings.
I blame those eyes.
Those green, sharp-edged eyes that always seem to weaken me — when they should make me rage.
She glances at me, her tone cool but edged with something more.
"Do you know how terrifying you are?"
I don't respond. I just stare back, unblinking. Let her feel it.
Let her wonder if I'm the type to kill slow… or quick.
She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath.
"Like a damn predator."
I smirk. She has no idea what kind of predator I am.
Not yet.
My gaze shifts to her friend, sitting beside her like we're on a sightseeing tour. She's practically glowing, marveling at the world outside the window with a dreamy smile.
Humans. So eager to trust. So eager to die.
I look back at the thief — my little pumpkin. She sits there with that scowl on her face like the world owes her something. She reminds me why I stopped dealing with humans altogether.
Entitled. Incompetent. Greedy.
But something about her gnaws at me.
Maybe it's the fire she tries to hide.
Maybe it's the glow of the necklace pulsing faintly beneath her collarbone.
My mother's necklace.
She has no idea what she's fused herself with. No clue what kind of power hums in her blood now — power that doesn't belong to her.
It doesn't matter.
Her fate is sealed.
I'll deliver her to Jeremiah. He'll find a way to extract the relic without damaging it.
POV: ROSE
He looks at me — dumbfounded.
"Excuse me? You want me to do what?"
The man — Jeremiah, I think — turns to Void like he's trying to confirm whether this is a sick joke. His face is caught somewhere between confusion, mild panic, and very reluctant curiosity.
Void doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink.
Just stares him down like he's ordering wine, not someone's body being used as a magical puzzle box.
"You're my symvoulos. My advisor. An angel of great knowledge," Void says, voice smooth but impatient.
"You must know a way to extract the necklace without damaging it."
I blink. Angel?
Did he just say angel?
Where the hell am I?
Because I'm pretty sure when I walked into this crystal-palace-of-death, I was still on Earth. Or at least somewhere close to it.
Jeremiah lets out an exaggerated sigh and finally looks at me — not the cleavage this time, thank God — just me. His eyes are oddly gentle. Tired, maybe. Or maybe that's just what working with Void looks like.
"Fantastic," he mutters.
"You've confused the girl. Again. How do you even end up in situations like this, Void? I thought you hated humans."
Void doesn't respond. His jaw tenses.
Jeremiah folds his arms, muttering something in a language I don't know but instinctively hate.
And I just stand there — in the middle of them both — feeling like a very unwilling prophecy.
Stolen necklace, fused to my chest.
Surrounded by creatures that only look human.
The only comfort I have is knowing Rain is safe with a man I don't know at all… but at least he's smitten enough with her not to be hitting her like some people.
I glance around the room. One wall is an endless shelf of books — beautiful, towering. The other side, where his desk sits, is all glass, stretching so high I can only see clouds from this angle. It gives the illusion we're floating in the middle of the sky.
"This type of knowledge is beyond me, Void. I'm not the maker of this. Ah, yes — speak to the maker. She'll know what to do."
Void sighs, rubs his forehead, and mutters an "okay" before leaving — but not without slamming the doors.
He's gone.
Relief trickles through me.
When I turn back, Jeremiah is staring at me — face blank, completely stoic.
"Do you also want to throw me around? Is that how you guys greet people here or something?" I ask, standing from the floor and making myself comfortable in the chair near his desk. I have no idea where I'm getting the audacity, but I couldn't care less.
I spot a bottle of water on the desk and down it in seconds.
"Now," I say, looking straight at him, "come break down this bullshit I'm in. And I mean from scratch."
He chuckles, making his way to the desk, mumbling under his breath.
"Yes, my queen."