Darkness.
Nothing else.
No stars.
No walls.
No floor.
Not even the suggestion that anything existed beyond the small circle of candlelight trembling in the center of nowhere.
A chair waited there.
And sitting upon it—
was Hela Grimm.
She had crossed one impossibly long leg over the other.
Bare feet rested against a floor the darkness refused to reveal.
Black silk spilled from her body and disappeared beyond the candlelight, layered with mourning fabric, bone, feathers, and shadows that seemed several heartbeats slower than she was.
Her hair drifted around her.
Not with wind.
There was no wind.
It simply moved.
Long waves of absolute black floated beyond her waist, several strands dissolving into mist before becoming hair again.
Something moved inside that mist.
A face.
A hand.
Gone.
Hela did not acknowledge it.
Of course she didn't.
The cracked raven skull covering the upper half of her face tilted slightly.
Violet light burned through its fractures.
And beneath it—
Hela smiled.
"Well, my little nightmares."
Her voice entered the darkness softly.
"I believe we need to talk."
One elegant finger traced the rim of the candle flame.
It bent toward her.
Didn't burn.
"What you have seen from Yzer..."
Her smile faded slightly.
"...is a lot."
The flame trembled.
"And perhaps some of you believe his obsession with Xheavend is too much."
Hela became quiet.
For once—
there was no joke waiting behind the silence.
No playful cruelty.
No delighted little smile over somebody else's terrible decisions.
When she spoke again, her voice was strangely gentle.
"I hate to break this to those of you with softer hearts..."
Her luminous violet eyes found us through the darkness.
"...but if you have never encountered someone like Yzer, you are very lucky."
Something shifted beyond the candlelight.
The faintest sound.
A chain dragging.
Hela didn't look toward it.
"Monsters like him exist all around us."
"Some look exactly like what you imagine."
Her finger moved through the flame again.
"Others don't."
A beautiful smile returned.
Not hers.
Someone else's.
A shadow behind her briefly formed the silhouette of a perfectly ordinary man.
Then disappeared.
"Some are charming."
"Helpful."
"Respected."
"Loved."
"Some call themselves protectors."
Her smile disappeared.
"And some become very good at convincing their victims that the cage is love."
Silence.
"The damage they leave behind isn't always something you can see."
Hela looked down at the candle.
"Some people escape their nightmare."
"Some spend years learning how to live after it."
"Some drown inside it."
A pause.
"And some die."
Her violet eyes lifted again.
"At the hands of their nightmare."
The flame dimmed.
"Or their own."
For several seconds—
nothing moved.
Then Hela's smile returned.
Small.
Sad.
"But occasionally..."
Her head tilted.
"...someone survives long enough to become the thing their nightmare fears."
The candle suddenly burned violet.
Hela's smile widened.
"We'll get there."
She raised one hand.
"However."
One finger.
"I will give you one promise."
"For the next ten years, Yzer will not lay a hand on her."
A pause.
Her smile disappeared.
"Do not mistake that for mercy."
"And don't ask what happens afterward."
The smile returned.
"I'm not telling you."
"But those of you who have followed Q—"
She paused.
"Qaritas, if we're pretending to be respectable."
Her smile sharpened.
"You already know something very important."
"There is a happy ending."
Then—
Hela laughed softly.
"I didn't say there was a happy road."
The flame flickered.
"Xheavend has trauma ahead of her."
"Heartbreak."
"Fear."
"Loss."
"And suffering."
Her expression became serious again.
"As a child, much of what happens to her will be psychological and emotional."
A pause.
"But monsters do not always stop simply because their prey grows older."
Hela leaned back.
"And neither will Xheavend."
Violet stars briefly appeared inside the darkness behind her.
Thousands.
Universes.
Then vanished.
"Because the frightened little girl you've been watching..."
Her eyes glowed.
"...is going to become the goddess she was always meant to be."
Hela lifted the candle.
"One last thing."
The darkness seemed to lean toward her.
"Remember how time works in this story."
"An hour can pass in one dimension..."
The flame split.
Two flames.
"...while years pass in another."
Three.
"Centuries somewhere else."
Dozens.
Then hundreds of candles suddenly burned throughout the darkness.
Each flame moving at a different speed.
One barely flickered.
Another burned down completely within seconds.
Another reversed itself, wax climbing upward.
Hela grinned.
"Keep that in mind."
She raised two fingers.
Pinched the flame.
"And now..."
Darkness rushed inward.
"...back to Tavran."
The candle went out.
---
Tavran's fist went through the wall.
Stone exploded.
Not cracked.
Exploded.
His knuckles continued through until his arm was buried nearly to the elbow.
He ripped it free.
Blood followed.
Then—
**BOOM.**
Again.
"Tavran!"
**BOOM.**
"TAVRAN!"
Varin grabbed him first.
That was probably a mistake.
Tavran spun.
Varin barely got both arms around his older brother before Tavran surged forward again.
"LET GO OF ME!"
"No!"
"LET ME GO!"
"So you can punch through the fucking inn?!"
"YES!"
"THAT ISN'T HELPING!"
"I DON'T CARE!"
Rezorin grabbed Tavran's other arm.
It took both of them.
That made Tavran angrier.
Everything made Tavran angrier.
The wall.
His brothers.
Deepcrest.
The open window upstairs.
The empty room.
The book lying abandoned beside Xheavend's bed.
Tomorrow.
No.
Not tomorrow anymore.
Today.
His sister was supposed to turn ten today.
She wasn't even ten.
That thought kept circling back.
Nine.
She was nine.
Nine years old.
And gone.
"LET ME GO!"
"Tavran!"
Rezorin's voice cracked like a whip.
For once, his perfect appearance was gone.
Obsidian hair had fallen across his face.
His polished pink eyes were bloodshot.
His breathing was ragged.
He looked furious.
Terrified.
Good.
Tavran wanted everyone terrified.
Because apparently he had been the only idiot stupid enough to leave.
*Good luck in your training.*
His stomach turned.
He had left her.
She had smiled.
And he had left her.
**BOOM.**
His heel struck the wall this time.
More stone broke.
Varin swore.
"You were supposed to protect her!"
Tavran stopped.
Varin froze.
Rezorin's eyes snapped toward him.
Varin's face immediately changed.
He hadn't meant—
Too late.
Tavran looked at him.
"I know."
Two words.
Barely audible.
Somehow worse than screaming.
Varin released him.
"Tavran, I—"
"I know."
His bloody hand trembled.
"I was supposed to protect her."
Icardà appeared in front of him.
"Give me your hand."
Tavran ignored him.
"Tavran."
Nothing.
Icardà grabbed it.
Healing light immediately spread across Tavran's ruined knuckles.
Tavran jerked away.
"Don't."
Icardà's soft rose-gold eyes flashed.
"Don't what?"
"Don't waste your power."
Something snapped across Icardà's expression.
"She's my sister too."
Tavran went still.
Icardà grabbed his wrist again.
Harder this time.
"And since I cannot heal someone who isn't here—"
Light poured through Tavran's broken fingers.
Bone pulled together.
Skin closed.
Blood vanished.
"—I'm going to heal the idiot currently trying to break every bone in his hand."
Tavran stared at him.
Icardà stared back.
Neither apologized.
Neither needed to.
Then—
the air split.
Every brother turned.
A portal opened in the middle of the room.
Hellbound breathed through it.
Heat.
Ash.
Blood.
And two figures stepped through.
Their parents.
---
Zcain came first.
Nearly ten feet of scarred muscle, black armor, crimson markings and barely contained violence.
His cuirass was battered.
His bare arms were covered in blood.
Some his.
Most—
probably not.
His ancient black blade remained in his hand.
And around his left wrist—
a frayed dark-red thread.
Then his mother stepped through.
Rnarah.
Though nothing about the woman before them looked like Rnarah.
Not here.
Not while Hellbound could still be watching.
Her rose hair was completely concealed.
Her scent suppressed.
Her beauty buried beneath the identity she had created to survive beside her husband.
Nimarza.
Black fitted armor covered her from throat to ankle.
Silver poison bottles hung around her hips.
Twin bladed fans rested against them.
A white porcelain mask concealed her face, the black serpent painted across it curling toward one eye.
Another dark-red thread hid beneath the wrappings around her left wrist.
The portal closed.
For one heartbeat—
nobody moved.
Then Tavran saw his father's face.
And knew.
Zcain knew who had taken her.
Tavran crossed the room.
"You recognized him."
Rnarah's head turned toward him.
"Tavran—"
"You recognized him."
Zcain didn't deny it.
His crimson eyes burned.
Tavran stopped directly before him.
"Who took Xheavend?"
Silence.
"Father."
Zcain's jaw tightened.
Then—
"Yzer."
Nobody moved.
The name seemed to change the room.
Zcain continued.
"The Fragment of the Third Universe."
His expression darkened.
"The Warden."
Dread.
Pure.
Immediate.
Tavran felt the blood leave his face.
Beside him—
Varin went pale.
Rezorin stopped breathing.
Icardà's healing light vanished from his fingers.
A Fragment.
One of the First Evil's Fragments had Xheavend.
Their little sister.
Nine years old.
Images came immediately.
Death.
Torture.
Things worse than either.
Varin reached for his weapon.
"Then we're going."
"So am I," Rezorin said.
Icardà was already moving.
Tavran turned toward the door.
Zcain didn't stop them.
Instead—
he drew his sword.
"Yes."
Tavran stopped.
His father looked toward the empty space where the portal had disappeared.
"Your brothers are already coming."
As though summoned by the words—
reality tore open.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Portals erupted throughout the room.
And the sons of Sin and Love came home.
Kolaus emerged first.
Truth.
Silver-black hair.
Transparent rose-crimson eyes.
Weapon already drawn.
Hries followed.
Compassion and Grief.
Long hair fading from black into dusty rose.
Rose-gray eyes that found Tavran—
then immediately searched for the sister who wasn't there.
Uiris.
Bonded Souls.
His face had gone frighteningly still.
Lvador.
Devotion.
Already armored.
Wulftin.
Passion.
No lazy smile tonight.
Nior.
Affection.
Crimson eyes empty of their usual warmth.
Juben.
Euphoria.
Desire.
Despair.
For once—
only the last remained.
And Zeryn.
Ruin and Consequence.
Twenty years old.
The youngest son.
The brother closest to Xheavend in age.
He stepped through his portal holding a weapon.
Saw his parents.
Saw his brothers.
Looked around.
And asked—
"Where's Xhea?"
Nobody answered.
His face changed.
Twelve sons stood together.
Covenant.
Pride.
Wrath.
Truth.
Healing.
Compassion.
Bonded Souls.
Devotion.
Passion.
Affection.
Desire and Despair.
Ruin and Consequence.
Twelve sons of Sin and Love.
And every single one of them was ready to go to war for their only sister.
Rnarah looked at them.
Her children.
Then removed her mask.
Rose-pink hair spilled free.
Rnarah returned.
Not Nimarza.
Not the Hellbound fighter.
Their mother.
"We're getting her back."
Tavran looked at her.
"How?"
Rnarah approached him.
For all his enormous size, her hands still found his face exactly as they had when he was small.
"We will find a way."
"Mother—"
"We will."
Her thumbs brushed beneath his eyes.
"All of us."
His voice nearly broke.
"What if he's already—"
"No."
Not denial.
Not certainty.
A mother refusing to let her son finish a sentence neither of them could survive yet.
Rnarah pulled him against her.
Tavran resisted for approximately half a heartbeat.
Then lowered his forehead against her shoulder.
She held him.
Then Varin.
Then Icardà.
Rezorin stood rigid until she grabbed him too.
For several seconds—
they were simply frightened children with their mother.
Regardless of being thirty.
Fifty.
One hundred.
One hundred and thirty.
Some fears did not care how old you became.
Then Zcain spoke.
"I have a plan."
Every head turned.
---
Zcain explained quickly.
There was no direct road into the Third Universe.
Yzer had made certain of that.
"The Third is locked," Zcain said.
"Like a prison."
Zeryn frowned.
"Locked from us?"
"Locked from almost everyone."
"Then how did he take Xheavend there?"
"Because it's his universe."
Tavran's hands curled.
"Then we break the lock."
"We can't."
Varin laughed once.
Nothing humorous in it.
"We're Ascendants."
Zcain looked at his son.
"And Yzer is a Fragment."
Silence.
That ended the argument.
"Forcing our way through would tell him exactly where we were entering," Zcain continued. "Assuming the universe didn't reject us first."
"Then what?" Rezorin demanded.
Zcain looked toward Rnarah.
She answered.
"Your uncle."
Tavran understood immediately.
"Rykhan."
A portal opened.
And time stopped.
Not metaphorically.
The dust from Tavran's destroyed wall froze in the air.
A droplet of blood stopped halfway from Zcain's blade to the floor.
The flames became motionless.
And through the portal stepped—
Rykhan.
Ascendant of Time.
Behind him came the others.
Ación.
Creation.
Light fractured into impossible prisms around him.
Nyqomi.
Cosmic Horror.
Something unseen smiled from the darkness behind her.
Xasna.
Nebulae.
Stars spiraled through the portal around her.
Laxiae.
Galaxies.
Gravity bent subtly with every step.
And Shanian.
Entropy.
Every flame in the room dimmed.
Their aunts.
Their uncles.
Their family.
Rykhan looked at Zcain.
Then at the twelve brothers.
"Tell them."
Zcain did.
"Part of what created Rykhan came from the Third Universe."
Tavran looked toward his uncle.
Rykhan nodded.
"It recognizes me."
"Can you get us inside?" Kolaus asked.
"No."
Varin swore.
Rykhan continued.
"But I can keep a door open."
Everyone became still.
"Ecayrous plans to visit the Third Universe."
That name changed the room again.
Zcain's crimson markings pulsed.
"One hour from now."
Tavran stared.
"Then that's our opening."
"Yes."
Rykhan's expression remained grim.
"When Ecayrous crosses, Yzer's barriers must recognize and permit the transition. For that moment, there will be a path."
"How long?"
"Seconds."
"We only need one."
Rykhan almost smiled.
"You're definitely Zcain's."
Tavran didn't care.
"Then we follow Ecayrous."
"No."
Zcain's voice.
Tavran turned.
His father continued.
"You boys aren't coming."
Silence.
Then—
twelve different versions of *absolutely the fuck not* appeared across twelve faces.
Varin spoke first.
"No."
Zcain stared.
"No?"
"No."
"I wasn't asking."
"Neither was I."
"Varin."
"She is our sister."
"So?"
"So you're insane if you think we're sitting here while—"
Rnarah interrupted.
"You're going back to Deepcrest."
That was worse.
Tavran stared at her.
"What?"
"All twelve of you."
"No."
"Tavran—"
"No."
His voice shook.
"I'm not leaving her again."
Rnarah's expression broke.
Only slightly.
Enough.
Tavran continued.
"I left her once."
"That isn't why she was taken."
"I left her."
"You did not give her to Yzer."
"I promised I'd protect her!"
"And you have protected her for nine years!"
"Not when it mattered!"
Rnarah crossed the room.
"Tavran."
He stepped backward.
She followed.
"You listen to me."
Her voice was gentle.
That somehow made it impossible to ignore.
"You are not responsible for what Yzer chose to do."
Tavran's jaw clenched.
"We need you alive."
"She needs me."
"Yes."
Rnarah's eyes filled.
"Which is why you cannot run blindly into a universe designed by the being who took her."
Silence.
Zcain looked over all twelve sons.
"You go back to Deepcrest."
Varin's fists clenched.
"For how long?"
"Until we know exactly what we're dealing with."
"We already know," Zeryn snapped. "Yzer has Xhea."
"And that is precisely why none of you are entering unprepared."
Hries finally spoke.
Quietly.
"How long?"
Rykhan answered.
"That is the problem."
Everyone looked at him.
"An hour here could be years there."
Silence.
"Possibly centuries."
Tavran's stomach dropped.
"No."
Rykhan looked at him.
"I don't know the current temporal ratio."
"Then find out."
"I'm trying."
"Try faster."
"Tavran."
"She's nine!"
His voice shattered through the room.
"She's nine years old and you're telling me we could stand here for an hour while she spends centuries with him?!"
Nobody answered.
Because yes.
That was exactly what he was saying.
Zcain closed his eyes.
Then—
"Which is why we have to move now."
He looked toward his siblings.
"We have one hour before Ecayrous leaves."
Ación stepped forward.
"We'll prepare the crossing."
Xasna nodded.
"I can map the cosmic displacement once the barrier opens."
Laxiae added, "I'll stabilize our position."
Shanian smiled faintly.
"And if something tries closing the doorway?"
Nobody particularly liked Shanian's smile.
"I'll teach it what happens to things eventually."
Nyqomi said nothing.
Something behind her laughed.
Fine.
Apparently that was her contribution.
Rykhan looked toward Zcain.
"And once we're through, I'll hold the temporal path as long as possible."
Rykhan did not continue.
Tavran noticed.
His uncle's expression had changed.
Not fear.
Calculation.
The kind nobody in the room wanted to see.
Zcain noticed too.
"What?"
Rykhan looked toward him.
"There is another problem."
Silence.
"The crossing gets you inside."
He glanced around the room.
"It does not keep Yzer from seeing you once you arrive."
Rnarah went still.
Varin frowned.
"Seeing us how?"
Zcain answered before Rykhan could.
"His Eyes."
Nobody spoke.
Rykhan nodded.
"The Third Universe is saturated with them."
"Living creatures."
"Buildings."
"Relics."
"Entire regions."
"Anything bound closely enough to Yzer can become part of his sight."
Tavran felt something cold settle beneath his ribs.
"So the moment you enter—"
"He could know," Rykhan finished.
Rnarah's face changed.
She looked toward Zcain.
Then—
Zcain looked at Tavran.
Rnarah saw it.
Immediately.
"No."
Zcain said nothing.
"Zcain."
His crimson eyes remained on their eldest son.
Tavran understood before anyone said it.
Covenant.
His domain.
Rnarah stepped between them.
"Absolutely not."
"Rnarah—"
"You just told them they weren't going."
"I know."
"Then find another way."
Zcain's jaw tightened.
"There may not be one."
Silence.
That hurt worse than shouting.
Rnarah looked toward Rykhan.
"Tell me he's wrong."
Rykhan didn't.
Her eyes closed.
Zcain finally said it.
"Without Tavran hiding us from Yzer's Eyes..."
A pause.
"...we may never get close enough to find Xheavend."
Tavran stepped around his mother.
"Then I'm going."
Rnarah turned.
"Tavran—"
"No."
His voice wasn't angry anymore.
That frightened her more.
"You said she needs me alive."
"She does."
"Then let me do the thing I was made to do."
His eyes moved toward Rykhan.
"Can my Covenant hide them?"
Rykhan hesitated.
"Possibly."
"All of them?"
"With preparation."
"Then prepare me."
Rnarah stared at her son.
"And if it fails?"
Tavran looked toward the empty room where Xheavend should have been.
"Then Yzer sees me coming."
"Good."
Varin stepped forward.
"Then he sees me too."
Zcain's eyes narrowed.
"No."
Rezorin joined Tavran.
"You are not sending him into the Third Universe without us."
Icardà moved beside them.
"Agreed."
One by one—
their brothers stepped forward.
Tavran stared at them.
Kolaus folded his arms.
"If Tavran can hide a force from Yzer inside his own universe, then the danger is already Tavran maintaining the Covenant. Leaving eleven of us behind doesn't remove that risk."
Varin glanced at him.
"I love when Truth says something useful."
"You rarely recognize it."
Then—
Lvador stepped beside Tavran.
"She is our sister."
His rose-quartz eyes moved across the others.
"If Tavran enters, none of us will let him carry this alone."
"Mother."
Hries's voice was gentle.
"We know why you're trying to leave us behind."
Rnarah looked at him.
"But being afraid for us doesn't make Xheavend less afraid without us."
Zcain looked at his twelve sons.
He clearly hated every second of what he was about to say.
Good.
Tavran would have hated him if he didn't.
"Fine."
Varin blinked.
"That worked?"
"Do not make me reconsider."
"Understood."
Tavran counted again.
His parents.
His aunts.
His uncles.
Twelve brothers.
"Twenty."
Zcain nodded.
"Twenty."
Rnarah looked like she wanted to argue with the number itself.
Instead, she exhaled slowly.
"Then nobody improvises."
Every son looked at Zcain.
Zcain looked offended.
"Why is everyone looking at me?"
"Experience," Rezorin said.
Rnarah looked at her husband.
"You already had the twenty-person version prepared, didn't you?"
Zcain paused.
"Contingency planning."
"You enjoy dramatic reveals too much."
"It's genetic."
Twelve sons simultaneously looked offended.
Even now.
Somehow.
Rnarah nearly smiled.
Then Zcain became serious.
"We enter in waves."
Zcain marked three points on the map.
"Three teams. Seconds apart."
Tavran approached.
"Why?"
"Because twenty Ascendants crossing one breach simultaneously might as well announce our arrival to the entire Third Universe."
He touched the first mark.
"First team establishes the entry point."
The second.
"Second secures it."
Then the third.
"Third moves for Xheavend."
"And the rest?"
"Follow once Tavran does his job."
Tavran frowned.
"My job?"
Zcain looked directly at him.
"Yzer's Eyes."
Tavran understood immediately.
Covenant.
His domain.
Zcain stepped closer.
"You'll be the only one capable of creating a protection binding strong enough to hide all twenty of us from them."
Tavran stared at him.
"All twenty?"
"All twenty."
"Inside Yzer's own universe?"
"Yes."
Tavran's mouth slowly curved upward.
For the first time since Varin had found him in the forest—
something other than rage entered his face.
Purpose.
"Can you do it?" Zcain asked.
Then, softer—
"My heir?"
Tavran thought about a balcony.
A book.
A little girl asking whether they would ever have adventures together.
*Someday. I promise.*
He thought about her hand reaching toward his.
Five feet.
Almost.
He had failed once.
There would not be twice.
Tavran looked his father directly in the eyes.
"Gladly."
Zcain smiled.
Not because any of this was funny.
Because for the first time—
they had a road.
A terrible road.
An impossible road.
One leading directly into the dominion of a Fragment of the First Evil.
Good.
Let it.
Zcain looked around the room.
At his wife.
His brothers.
His sisters.
His twelve sons.
Twenty Ascendants bound by blood, marriage, history, love, sin, grief, rage and one shared purpose.
Somewhere beyond the barriers between universes—
Xheavend waited.
Perhaps minutes had passed for her.
Perhaps years.
None of them knew.
That uncertainty was its own form of torture.
But Zcain knew one thing.
Yzer had made a mistake.
He had taken one child.
And in doing so—
he had given nineteen monsters a reason to come looking.
Zcain lifted his blade.
"Then prepare for war."