The knock on the door was soft, hesitant, like the person on the other side wasn't sure they should be there at all.
Eva stood up from the floor of the girl zone, her joints popping, her legs stiff from sitting too long. Warden looked up at her, her visible eye questioning. The kid kept drawing, his pencil never stopping.
Eva opened the door.
Shadow stood in the hallway. His human form was still new to him—he moved like he wasn't quite used to having legs, to having arms, to having a face that could show what he was feeling. And right now, what he was feeling was sadness. The same sadness he'd worn since Lily died.
"I want to show you something," he said.
"Okay." Eva's voice was soft. Confused.
Black liquid emerged from the floor—pooling, spreading, rising. It swallowed them one by one: Eva, Shadow, Warden, the kid. The girl zone disappeared. The facility disappeared. The world disappeared.
They emerged somewhere else.
Eva's breath caught.
The sky above her wasn't sky. It was stone—massive, arched, impossibly high, with clouds drifting beneath it. Waterfalls cascaded down from openings in the walls, feeding rivers that wound through fields of glowing flowers. The air was warm and soft and smelled like rain.
"This," Shadow said, "is the Underworld."
Eva turned in a slow circle. "What?"
"This is where Lily kept them. Every creature she ever saved. Every monster she ever tamed. If she needed one, she would call, and I would teleport them to her."
He gestured at the landscape around them.
Eva saw them then—not one or two, but dozens. Hundreds. Creatures of every size and shape, scattered across the fields, the forests, the rivers.
A small, winged thing no bigger than her hand landed on the kid's head. It looked like a sugar glider, but its fur was iridescent, shifting colors as it moved, and its eyes were too large, too bright, too knowing. The kid froze, his pencil hovering over his notebook, then slowly smiled.
"How big is this place?" Eva asked.
"Big enough that even Goliath could live here." Shadow paused. "But he doesn't. He doesn't listen to me. He only listened to Lily."
Eva looked at the beauty in front of her—the glowing flowers, the crystalline rivers, the impossible sky. In the distance, she saw Sentinel walking, his massive body moving slowly through a field of tall grass, his tail dragging behind him like an afterthought.
They walked.
Warden's son still had the sugar glider on his head. It had curled up, apparently comfortable, apparently planning to stay.
They passed the Rotting King. He was old now—older than Eva remembered, his jaw misaligned, his eyes cloudy. But around him, nestled in the folds of his decaying hide, were creatures. Babies. Small and new and utterly unafraid. They squeaked and tumbled over each other, and the Rotting King watched them with something that might have been patience.
Eva's chest ached.
They reached a lake. It was vast—so vast she couldn't see the other side—its surface glassy and still. On a large rock at the edge, Mary sat with her back to them.
Her shoulders were shaking.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Then she stood, walked to the water's edge, and disappeared beneath the surface.
"Sorry," Shadow said quietly. "She's not speaking to anyone. Not even me."
Warden's visible eye narrowed. She felt something—a heartbeat, small and new, coming from beneath the ground. It pulsed like a second heart, buried deep, waiting.
She didn't ask Shadow about it. She didn't know why.
Eva looked around. At the creatures, the flowers, the impossible beauty of a world hidden beneath a world. "Which one is the biggest?"
"Goliath is the biggest. But like I said, he doesn't stay here.He doesn't listen to me. He only listened to Lily."
"Where is he? Right now?"
Shadow hesitated. "Australia. That's where Lily met him. That's where she gained his trust."
"Can you take me there?"
"No."
Eva's jaw tightened. "Why not?"
"Goliath is..." Shadow searched for words. "He's dangerous. Unstable. He's not like the others. He can talk. And it's dangerous to be around him."
"Take me to him." Eva's voice was firm. "Lily's letter said all her creatures would listen to me. I want to talk to him. I want to—" She stopped. "I want to know what Lily saw in him."
Shadow looked at her. Really looked. His eyes were dark and old and tired.
"Listen to me first. This is important." He stepped closer. "Don't, under any circumstances, say anything if he tells you to be quiet. And don't ever tell him to shut up." He paused. "He doesn't fear anything. He only feared Lily. Do you understand? Don't try to command him"
Eva held his gaze. "I got it."
She turned to Shadow. "But first, take us back."
───
The grave was small.
Smaller than it should have been, for someone who had saved so many. The stone was grey, unadorned, the words carved deep into its surface.
Lily Katerina Rostova.
The girl who needed saving.
The woman who saved everyone else.
The Monster Queen who died, blind and burned, apologizing for failing.
Absolute 2 Eva stood in front of it, her mask still on, her hands clenched at her sides. Her breath came faster. Her shoulders shook.
Behind her, Sasha stood silent, watching.
Wolfen had already moved away—not far, just far enough to give her space, to give her the illusion of being alone.
Eva took off her mask.
She let it fall.
It hit the ground with a soft thud, and she was crying—tears streaming down her cheeks, her nose red, her eyes swollen. She sank to her knees and sat there, looking at her sister's grave.
Sasha moved forward. Stopped. Saw the way Eva's shoulders shook, the way her breath hitched, the way she was falling apart and trying to hold herself together at the same time.
Eva wiped her tears with her sleeve.
"Hey, Lily." Her voice was soft. Sweet. The voice of someone talking to a loved one after a long time apart. "Your sister is here."
She reached out and touched the stone. Her fingers traced the letters of Lily's name, slow and gentle, like she was afraid of hurting her.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry I didn't even know—" Her voice cracked. She pressed her forehead against the cold stone. "I didn't even know you were dying. You came to see me, and I didn't notice. You hugged me, and I didn't feel how thin you'd gotten. You smiled at me, and I didn't see how tired you were."
She laughed. It was wet, broken, nothing like happiness.
"You always were a better liar than me."
Sasha stepped forward, reached for her—but stopped. Eva wasn't done.
"Do you remember when we were kids? Before the orphanage. Before everything. You used to climb into my bed when you had nightmares. You'd shake so hard the whole bed would rattle. And I'd hold you and tell you stories until you fell asleep." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I should have been there. When you had your nightmares. I should have been there."
She pulled back, looked at the grave, at the name, at the dirt beneath the stone.
"I miss you." Her voice broke. "I miss you so much."
She started crying again—not the quiet tears of before, but the kind that shook her whole body, that made her gasp for air, that left her breathless and raw.
Sasha couldn't watch anymore. She stepped forward, bent down, and pulled Eva to her feet.
"I'm fine," Eva said. Her voice was still soft, still sweet, still wrong.
"You're not."
"I'm fine."
Sasha looked at her—at the tears still wet on her cheeks, at the smile that didn't reach her eyes, at the way she was holding herself together with nothing but will.
Eva looked back at the grave. At the stone. At the words carved into it.
"I'm fine," she said again.
Sasha didn't believe her. But she let go.
Wolfen watched from a distance, his hands in his pockets, his back against a tree. He didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.
The three of them stood in silence, the grave between them, the weight of the dead pressing down on the living.