The Underworld's gates loomed like the teeth of some great beast, black stone arching high into a night without stars. A river of molten silver ran beneath the drawbridge, casting a cold light over Kaelreth's shadow-wolves as they paced restlessly.
Seraphira stood at his side, the borrowed face of the merchant's ward still strange to her, like wearing a cloak stitched from another's skin. The disguise held, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her true self was watching from somewhere deep inside, waiting.
Kaelreth's gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the mortal realm lay hidden beyond the Veil, the invisible barrier between life and death, magic and dust. The crossing is simple in theory, he said, tightening the black leather gauntlet on his right hand. But the Veil resists those who do not belong. If it senses your blood is royal, it will try to push you back.
And if it succeeds? she asked.
He looked at her then, the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. It won't.
The gates groaned open, spilling a gust of air that smelled of iron and rain. The bridge trembled under the wolves' steps as they led the way, each one silent save for the whisper of claws against stone.
The Veil shimmered ahead, a wall of pale light rippling in the darkness. To mortal eyes, it would look like nothing, just a breath of cold wind. But here, in the borderland between realms, it blazed like a living thing. Seraphira's heartbeat quickened.
Kaelreth dismounted, his shadow following him like a second body. He extended a hand to her, the gesture half-command, half-invitation. You'll feel it try to strip away what you are. Let it take the mask, not the truth.
She placed her hand in his, the contact sparking through her like lightning. They stepped forward together.
The Veil struck instantly, a pressure at her temples, a burning at the back of her eyes. Her lungs seized as invisible fingers clawed through her, seeking the thread of her curse. She clung to Kaelreth's hand, focusing on the heat of his grip and the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing.
Push back, he murmured. It's only light. You are fire.
The words kindled something inside her. The shadows around them coiled tighter, wrapping her in Kaelreth's power until the burning eased, and the Veil shuddered… then parted.
On the other side, the air was heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. The night sky here was scattered with stars, brighter than any she'd seen in the Underworld.
Kaelreth released her hand, though his gaze lingered. Welcome to the mortal realm.
Seraphira looked around, noting the distant torchlights of a village, the faint call of an owl. Somewhere out there, the mortal king slept, unaware that his enemies had crossed his threshold.
She smiled, not the smile of the princess she had been, but something sharper. Let's find him.
Kaelreth's answering grin was pure darkness. We will.