I knew we were lost when the trees started bleeding sideways.
Not a metaphor. The bark in front of me split open like a slit eye, and thick black sap ran upward, defying gravity, sliding into the branches above instead of the ground below. It steamed in the cold air, filling the forest with a sweet, rotten smell.
"Pretty," Veyra said behind me. "If this place doesn't try to eat us in the next few minutes, I might actually be offended."
Her laugh was low and musical, the kind of sound that would make a normal man's heart stutter. The Demonwood didn't care. The branches above us groaned, twisting, leaves like torn bat wings rustling in a wind I couldn't feel.
I rested Eclipsera on my shoulder and watched the miasma leaking from the blade curl through the air. It rolled off the orange metal in lazy streams, black with faint streaks of ember-bright orange, drifting down to the forest floor like smoke that had gotten bored.
Where it touched the ground, the red moss went gray. The roots beneath us shriveled. The Demonwood was strong, old, poisonous—and even here, my weapon chewed through it without effort.
"We're not lost," Kaen said from behind me. "You just don't know where we are."
"That," I said, "is the definition of lost."
I didn't turn to look at him; I didn't need to. I could picture him perfectly: tall, broad-shouldered, arms crossed over his chest, the faint glow of his looping flame mark visible through the open collar of his coat. His hair was dark, his eyes ember-bright. Heat rolled off him in waves even when he wasn't burning.
He was taller than me.
Most of them were. Only Sareth and Kaen beat me by much, standing like pale statues and living flame at the back of the group. I stood near the front—third tallest—with my long golden-orange hair brushing the middle of my back every time the wind tried to pick a fight.
A drop of black sap floated past my face. I watched it climb upward, then flicked it away with the blunt side of Eclipsera's handle.
"It's a lower world," Alinor murmured. Her voice drifted like smoke from somewhere to my left. "Thin walls. Soft sky. Too much fear in the ground. I can taste it."
I glanced sideways.
Alinor walked barefoot over the twisted roots, white skirts trailing through the dust, hands loosely clasped behind her back. Her eyes were half-lidded, irises a pale silver-blue, like she was never entirely awake. The Sin Mark above her ankle glimmered faintly beneath the fabric—a fractured eye wrapped in a crescent.
"Try not to fall asleep standing up," Cirel said. "If you dream too hard here, the world might tear."
"Would that be so bad?" Veyra asked. "We just got here. It would be impressive."
"You say that like it's a joke," Sareth said quietly.
He rarely raised his voice. He didn't need to. It seeped into the bones. Sareth moved near the rear, cloak dark against his almost colorless skin. The Crumbling Triangle on the back of his hand—his Sin Mark—flickered as he brushed his fingers over a nearby tree.
The bark decayed under his touch, collapsing into dust before my eyes.
The Demonwood shuddered.
I smiled a little.
"If we break the world in the first hour," I said, "we won't have time to play."
"That's the problem?" Cirel asked.
She strode ahead to walk level with me, shadows pooling at her heels even though the light in this place didn't seem to have a source. Her hair was short and dark, eyes a sharp, unsure yellow. The Broken Frame on the back of her neck peeked out from under her collar when she tilted her head.
Her entire race, the Noctarii, could unmake things by doubting them. Cirel was very good at doubting.
"I wouldn't mind breaking things early," she said. "This forest is ugly."
"It's supposed to be," Lyra said. "It's called the Demonwood."
Lyra's voice was sharp and clean, like a blade sliding back into its sheath. She walked with her hands folded behind her back, head slightly tilted, eyes cataloging everything. The Spiral Needle symbol along her forearm gleamed faintly as she traced its lines with her thumb.
Her race—Nixarel, mirror-born soul thieves—always felt like they were about to take you apart and reassemble you better. Or worse. She hadn't decided with most of us yet.
"We're in a lower world," Alinor repeated, softer, as if reminding the forest instead of us. "We fell further than usual this time."
"We didn't fall," Kaen muttered. "We jumped."
"You pushed the rift open too far," Cirel said, pointing a thumb lazily over her shoulder. "He walked through it first, like always. Then Veyra, then Lyra, then Alinor, then Sareth, then me, then you. It's your fault."
"You still followed," Kaen shot back.
I let their bickering blur into background noise for a moment and focused on the feel of the world around us.
She was right. Alinor always was, when it came to worlds.
This place was weak.
Even in its silence, I could feel the strain where we'd torn our way in. The air carried a quiet whine at the edge of hearing, like glass under pressure. The magic was thin. The demons here would be smaller. The sky layer above us would be close.
Perfect for a vacation.
I rested Eclipsera flat across my shoulders, hands draped over the shaft. The long scythe blade curved out to my right, a perfect arc of molten-orange metal edged at absolute black. The miasma leaking from it curled back over my shoulders, drifting through my hair.
The Shattered Crown symbol over my heart burned with a lazy, content warmth.
"Since we're lost," I said, "we might as well find something interesting."
"You mean someone," Veyra said, smiling.
She skipped forward, steps light. The Smiling Tear symbol at her throat flared as she breathed in deep, like she was tasting the danger.
"Someone," I agreed.
— • —
In another part of the Demonwood, someone else was already looking for us.
Princess Seraphine of the Third Infernal Court did not like forests.
They were messy. They stained. They clung to her boots and hair and clothes like needy, dying things. The Demonwood was the worst of them all—overgrown, toxic, crawling with beasts that barely counted as sentient.
She would much rather have been seated on her bone-and-gold throne, overlooking the obsidian spires of the capital.
But a thing had fallen from the sky.
Her father had said it was nothing.
Her father was an idiot.
Seraphine walked at the front of the hunting party, red cloak drawn tight over her armor, tall horns sweeping back from her forehead in smooth black curves. Her eyes glowed an ember-red in the half-light, pupils slit like a serpent's. Her black hair tumbled down her back in thick, straight strands, brushing the edge of her hips.
Around her, a dozen demon knights marched in formation—towering brutes with charred armor and long, jagged spears. Their steps shook the ground. Their breath fogged the air with heat.
"The trees are wrong here," she said.
The captain to her right shifted uncomfortably.
"Your Highness, the Demonwood is always—"
"I know what it is," she snapped.
He flinched.
Seraphine stopped walking and turned slowly in place, scanning the forest with narrowed eyes. The Demonwood had never been welcoming, but today it felt different.
The sap in the trees wasn't flowing properly.
The roots hummed.
The air…sang.
Something had cut this world and climbed inside it.
Priests in the Court had whispered about "upper tears" for centuries—fractures in the sky where higher realms bled downward. She hadn't believed them. Their prophecies were always wrapped in song and flame, never concrete.
But she had seen it this morning.
A line of white light, tearing across the horizon like a screaming wound, briefly visible over the Demonwood. Then—a fall. A streak. A distant impact.
She'd mobilized a hunting party before the priests had even stopped staring.
"Your Highness," the captain tried again, more careful this time. "We're near the heart of the wood. The beasts are restless. And the Court does not permit royal blood to—"
"The Court doesn't permit me to do many things," Seraphine said. "And yet I do them."
Her lips curled.
"This thing that fell," she said. "It shook the entire southern sky. If it is a weapon, we take it. If it is a beast, we tame it. If it is a god—"
She smiled wider, showing teeth.
"—we kill it."
The captain swallowed and nodded.
"Yes, Your Highness."
She took a step forward.
The trees ahead of them sagged, bark turning gray, leaves shriveling. For a brief moment, she thought it was just the natural rot of the Demonwood.
Then she saw it move.
Decay spread across the trunk in a crawling line, like a shadow made of disease. The bark crumbled to powder. The roots beneath her feet twitched, then fell still.
The forest died in a circle, ten paces wide, without fire or frost.
Something was coming toward them.
Seraphine's eyes narrowed. Excitement flared.
"Shields up," she said softly. "Spears ready. We do not retreat."
— • —
We heard the demons before we saw them.
Their footsteps weren't subtle. Heavy boots grinding into dead roots, metal brushing metal, the low growl of voices that had forgotten how to whisper.
I stopped walking.
The others fell silent behind me, almost at the same time. We'd done this long enough that we didn't need to say anything. When one of us listened, the others listened too.
"There," Cirel said.
She didn't point. She didn't need to. Her eyes went distant for a moment, then refocused.
"Thirteen of them," she added. "Big. Armed. One's different."
"Different how?" Lyra asked.
"Less afraid."
Veyra smiled slowly.
"Royalty?" she asked. "Or just stupid?"
Alinor closed her eyes.
I watched her chest rise and fall in one slow breath. Then the Fractured Eye at her ankle flared bright under the hem of her skirt. A faint shimmer rippled outward from her feet, spreading through the air like invisible water.
She opened her eyes again.
"They're moving toward us," she murmured. "They smell like ash and old blood. The different one smells like polished metal."
"Armor, then," Kaen said.
Sareth's fingers flexed once at his side, the Graveveil Chains coiled around his forearms clinking softly as they brushed together. Each link was etched with tiny numbers only he understood.
"Demons," he said. "This whole layer is them."
"You sound disappointed," I said.
He shrugged one shoulder.
"Demons are predictable."
"That can be fun too," Veyra said.
I rolled my shoulders and stepped forward, letting the miasma drifting from Eclipsera thicken slightly. The blade hummed in my hands, resonating with a pitch I felt in the bones of my teeth.
The Shattered Crown over my heart burned steady.
"Let's introduce ourselves," I said.
"We're not supposed to leave witnesses," Lyra reminded me, though her eyes were already bright.
"Yes," I said. "But until we kill them, they're still useful."
"Pets?" Veyra asked immediately.
"Maybe."
Her smile turned sharp.
We walked.
The Demonwood parted around us like it had decided we were too much trouble. Branches bent away from Eclipsera's blade. Roots recoiled from Sareth's steps. The miasma curled in front of us, eating the red moss in slow, satisfied swirls.
We stepped into a clearing like that.
The air opened, the trees pulling back to form a rough circle of space. The sky above was a low, oppressive smear of dark red, clouds hanging like bruises. The ground was black and cracked.
And the demons were waiting.
They were tall. Not as tall as Sareth or Kaen, but close. Horns, black armor, spears of jagged obsidian. Ember-bright eyes. They were powerful by this layer's standards, each one a walking furnace.
They froze when they saw us.
I couldn't blame them.
Seven strangers stood before them where no gateway should have opened.
I wore a long coat the color of dusk, opened at the front, shirt too light for the cold, pants tucked into black boots. My golden-orange hair drifted in the slow wind, the strands catching what little light existed and setting it ablaze. My eyes—pure black, red inverted crosses burning in the center—met theirs.
Behind me, the rest of The Eclipsed Seven fanned out lazily.
Veyra with her lazy, dreamy grin and eyes too bright. Lyra with her cold precision, fingers flexing as if weaving invisible thread. Cirel with shadows coiling under her boots. Alinor drifting, skirts skimming dead roots, gaze unfocused. Sareth looming, cloak shifting around his pale frame, chains heavy on his arms. Kaen radiating heat without even trying.
We were all beautiful in our own ways.
We were all wrong.
One demon stepped forward, armor more ornate than the others'. Her horns curved back like polished blades, catching the dim light. A crimson cloak flowed over her shoulders. Her eyes were a deeper red, hotter.
She held no weapon. She didn't seem to think she needed one.
Royalty.
"Lower-borns," she said, voice cool and sharp. "You walk in the Demonwood without permission of the Court. State your origin. State your purpose."
Veyra's grin widened.
"Oh, I like her," she murmured.
I let my gaze run over the princess slowly, like I was inspecting a new toy. She noticed. Her jaw tightened.
"Origin?" I repeated.
"Yes," she said, chin tilting up. "Which court do you serve? What gate did you open? Which demon lord claims you?"
"None," I said.
Lies would have been pointless.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Everyone serves someone."
"Not us," Cirel said softly.
My eyes didn't leave the princess.
"What's your name?" I asked.
The captain at her right bristled.
"You will address her as—"
"I wasn't talking to you," I said.
I swung Eclipsera down from my shoulder with a slow, lazy motion. The blade whispered through the air, leaving a trail of miasma that glowed faintly as it curved around us and sank into the ground.
The captain's spear lifted.
Roots under his feet turned gray, then white, then brittle. He faltered, boots cracking the ground beneath him.
The princess watched the decay spread, then looked back up at me.
Her eyes flicked to my scythe, then to my face, then to the Shattered Crown mark faintly glowing through the fabric of my shirt.
"Princess Seraphine of the Third Infernal Court," she said at last. "Blood of Lord Vaedros, heir to the southern spires, keeper of—"
"That's a lot," Cirel muttered.
Seraphine's gaze snapped to her, full of offense.
Kaen chuckled once under his breath.
I stepped closer. One, two slow strides. The demons tensed, spears lifting as one, heat building in the air like a wall.
I didn't draw power.
I didn't need to.
The miasma thickened on its own, responding to my mood. It swirled in slow loops at my feet, rising in thin strands that licked at the demons' armor.
"You came to find us," I said. "You saw the sky tear."
Her jaw clenched.
"You fell through a forbidden layer," she said. "Our priests felt it. The Court cannot allow unknown invaders to roam freely. You will answer, or—"
"Or you kill us?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
I smiled.
"How confident."
Her nostrils flared.
Behind her, the captain shifted his grip on his spear.
"This is your last—"
He didn't finish.
Veyra moved.
One moment she was at my side. The next, she was in the air, dress fluttering, hair trailing like spilled ink, eyes alight with almost childish delight. The Smiling Tear at her throat burned bright.
Something bloomed in her hand—a small, crimson flower, petals soft and wet-looking.
By the time she landed in front of the captain, the flower had unfolded into a jagged blade.
She pierced him through the chest in one smooth motion.
His eyes went wide. Fire sputtered in his veins. The armor around the wound blackened, then cracked outward, like something was growing inside his ribcage.
"Oh," Veyra said, smiling up at him. "You're warm."
He tried to speak.
He dissolved instead.
His entire body broke apart in a clatter of armor and ash, collapsing inward, the spear falling limp to the ground. All that remained in Veyra's hand was the crimson blade, dripping a clear, glowing liquid that ate into the soil.
Silence crashed over the clearing.
The demon knights staggered back.
Seraphine didn't.
Her face went cold, rage flickering behind her eyes. Flame burst from her hands, curling around her fingers, licking up her arms without burning the fabric of her cloak.
"You dare—"
She didn't finish that either.
Lyra stepped forward, eyes bright.
Threads appeared between her fingers, thin and silver, spiderweb-fine. They glinted in the dim light as she let them fall, then twitched her hand once.
The threads stretched out, snaking across the ground faster than sight.
Half the demons jerked, armor locking in place. Threads wrapped around their throats, their arms, their legs, binding joints, cutting into flesh, sewing metal to bone. They choked, claws snapping at nothing.
"I'm measuring," Lyra said calmly. "Don't move. You'll ruin the lines."
"Enough," Seraphine snarled.
She leapt forward, closing the distance between us in a streak of fire.
I watched her.
At the last moment, I moved.
Not much. Just a slight sidestep, Eclipsera flowing up with an almost lazy grace, the blade curving through the air.
The edge kissed her flame.
Her fire died.
Her eyes widened.
The scythe's miasma touched nothing but air and still, the ground at her feet went gray. Cracks spiderwebbed out from where she landed. The Demonwood shivered again, like it was trying to crawl away.
She stared at my weapon, then at me.
"What are you?" she breathed.
I tilted my head thoughtfully.
"Lost," I said.
Her jaw clenched.
She swung her fist at my face.
I let her.
Her knuckles collided with my cheek with enough force to shatter a normal skull. My head rocked slightly to the side. I felt the impact sink through bone and muscle.
Pain flashed.
I smiled.
She froze.
I slowly turned my head back to face her, letting her see the way the red crosses in my eyes burned brighter for a moment.
"Again," I said softly.
She snarled and tried to pull back. I caught her wrist.
Her skin was hot under my fingers, heat like a forge. The Looping Flame on Kaen's chest flared in the corner of my vision in response, but he didn't move.
I didn't squeeze.
I didn't have to.
The Shattered Crown over my heart pulsed once.
Her fire hesitated.
Her muscles trembled.
She realized then. Too late, but she realized.
"I don't like giving my name first," I said gently. "It feels unbalanced."
She glared at me, teeth bared.
"Let go."
"Mm," I said, pretending to consider. "No, I don't think I will."
I stepped closer, closing the little distance between us. We were almost the same height, her horns giving her the illusion of being taller. Up close, I could see the faint cracks in her armor, the lines of strain at the corners of her eyes. She was strong.
For this world.
"I like you, Princess Seraphine of the Third Infernal Court," I said. "You came to kill what you don't understand. You didn't run when you should have. You hit me in the face. That's cute."
Her eyes flashed.
"I will burn you."
"You won't," I said. "Because you're going to be useful."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I am no one's tool."
"Not a tool," Veyra said cheerfully from behind me. "A pet."
Seraphine went very, very still.
The demon knights struggled against Lyra's threads, some straining hard enough that their tendons creaked. One broke a strand and immediately had three more wrap around his throat.
"Pet?" Seraphine repeated slowly.
I released her wrist and stepped back, twirling Eclipsera once. The miasma swirled upward, curling around her horns like a dark halo for a moment before drifting away.
"Yes," I said. "You're interesting. This world is new. Someone has to show us around, and you're already here. That saves time."
Her cheeks flushed with rage.
"I am heir to—"
"Your titles mean nothing to us," Cirel cut in.
Seraphine looked at her sharply.
Cirel's gaze met hers without flinching, the Doubt in her eyes deep and endless.
"If I don't believe your throne exists," Cirel said softly, "what happens to it, little princess?"
The air around them shivered.
For a moment, Seraphine felt something.
A tug.
An absence, like a memory slipping just out of reach. The image of her throne room—bone pillars, burning banners, rows of kneeling demons—flickered. The colors bled.
Her heart lurched.
She snarled, forcing it back into focus.
"Stop that," she hissed.
Cirel smirked.
Lyra tugged her threads.
Three of the knights dropped to their knees.
"You will return with us," Seraphine said, ignoring the chill sliding down her spine. "The Court will decide your—"
"No," I said.
Her head snapped toward me.
"No?" she repeated.
"Yes," I said. "No."
Her eyes burned brighter.
"You refuse an invitation from the Infernal Court?"
"I refuse to be told what to do by someone who doesn't understand what she's looking at," I said. "We are not your prisoners. We are not your guests. And we are not from any realm your Court has a name for."
She stared at me.
I let my smile sharpen slightly.
"But you," I said. "You're from here. You know the roads. The cities. The sky. You know what's worth burning and what's worth saving."
"Nothing is worth saving," Sareth murmured.
"For you," I said. "She doesn't know that yet."
Seraphine's hands clenched.
"You speak as if—"
I stepped forward again, closing the distance between us in an instant.
Before she could react, I laid the cold, flat side of Eclipsera's blade lightly against her throat.
Her breath hitched.
The miasma curled along the metal, reaching for her skin, curious. It wanted to sink in, to see what she was made of. I held it back, barely.
"Seraphine," I said softly. "I'm not asking."
Her heartbeat thundered in her chest. I could hear it, feel it in the air between us. Strong. Stubborn.
Behind us, one of the knights managed to choke out, "Your Highness—"
Kaen sighed and snapped his fingers lazily.
Flame roared across the line of bound demons, devouring their armor faster than they could scream. Their bodies turned to silhouettes of fire for a brief, horrible moment, then collapsed into charred heaps.
The smell of burned demon filled the clearing.
Seraphine's eyes widened.
"You—" Her voice broke.
"You have two choices," I said. "You can die here, with them. Or you can live, with us."
She bared her teeth.
"You think I fear—"
I pressed the scythe a little harder.
Her skin didn't break.
The world did.
Tiny fractures spiderwebbed out across the clearing, invisible lines of strain in the air itself. The Demonwood groaned, trees leaning away, sap running faster, upward, sideways, any way that wasn't toward us.
In the distance, something screamed. Not an animal. The world.
Seraphine felt it too.
Her breath stuttered.
"What are you?" she whispered again.
I tilted my head.
"We're the Eclipsed Seven," I said. "But you can start with my name."
I reached up with my free hand and brushed a strand of hair away from my face, letting the movement reveal more of the glow from the Shattered Crown mark over my heart.
"Auren Valcrest," I said. "Sin of Ruin."
The red crosses in my eyes flared.
"And you," I added, "are mine now."
Her eyes burned with hatred. With fear. With something else that hadn't decided what it wanted to be yet.
"Say it," I said softly. "You'll live longer if you do."
Silence stretched.
Even the forest held its breath.
Finally, through clenched teeth, she forced out:
"…Fine."
I felt her will bend—not break, not yet, but bend—like heated metal. She wasn't submitting. She was surviving.
Good.
"I'll guide you," she said. "Temporarily."
Veyra made a soft, delighted sound.
"A pet with conditions," she said. "How cute."
Seraphine glared at her.
"I am not a—"
"You are," I said.
I lifted Eclipsera away from her throat and rested the weapon back across my shoulders. The miasma swirled upward, tasting the air, then settled back into its steady leak.
With my other hand, I reached out and tapped my fingers lightly against the center of Seraphine's chest, just above where her heart beat furious and hot.
A faint mark bloomed there, glowing for a moment before sinking beneath the cloth—a thin, pale ring, incomplete, hovering over her sternum.
It wasn't one of our Sin Marks.
It was something simpler. A tether.
Her eyes widened. She grabbed at her chest, fingers digging into the fabric.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
"Nothing yet," I said. "But if you run, I'll feel it. If you betray us, I'll feel it. And if you bore me…"
I smiled.
"…I'll let Kaen play with you."
Kaen grinned, flame flickering between his fingers.
Seraphine's jaw tightened.
"I will not betray you," she said. "Not while I still need you."
"Honest," Lyra said approvingly. "I like that."
Alinor sighed softly.
"The sky is thinner here than I thought," she murmured, gazing upward. "If we walk too far, it might crack."
"We'll be careful," I said absently.
We wouldn't.
"Princess," I added, turning my attention back to Seraphine. "Show us your world. The best parts first."
Her mouth twisted.
"The best parts are not in these forests," she said.
"Perfect," I said. "Then let's leave them."
I turned away, stepping out of the clearing, Eclipsera humming against my shoulders. The others fell into motion without needing to be told—Veyra at my right, Cirel at my left, Lyra just behind, Alinor drifting a little to the side, Sareth and Kaen bringing up the rear.
Seraphine stood in place for one heartbeat longer, staring at the ashes of her knights.
Then she followed.
The Demonwood watched us go, bleeding sap in the wrong direction, branches leaning away like they were trying to recoil from something much taller than the trees themselves.
Above us, for just a moment, the red sky flickered white.
— • —
Later, when the world finally broke, someone might have called this the beginning of the end.
For us, it was just another walk in a new forest, with a new pet, in a new toy world.
And we were still very, very lost.
But that was fine.
Getting lost was how we found things worth ruining.