Dante felt it the moment they materialized at the crest of the hill—the corruption radiating from the ivory spires that had stood since before any of them claimed their thrones. The cathedral built for darker prayers was crumbling.
Where the air had once tasted of nothing, neutral space waiting to be filled, it now crackled with unstable magic. The barriers between realms were bleeding into each other, and this place that existed between all of them was bearing the cost.
Overhead, the sky churned with contradictions. His eternal twilight warred with Seraphina's blazing desert sun. Thessa's perpetual mist tangled with Vex's star-strewn darkness. Caelum's golden light flickered through it all like lightning in a storm.
The once pristine ivory walls now had red cracks running through them, pulsing like infected wounds.
Dante's hand found the small of Brynn's back, keeping her close. She was still wearing his shirt under a hastily donned coat, and some possessive part of him took satisfaction in that even now. His shadows spread around them both, restless and agitated in a way he couldn't control.
The last time they'd stood here, she'd been six feet behind him. Atribute he barely tolerated. Someone he'd commanded to stay silent unless directly addressed.
Now she walked beside him, and he couldn't imagine her anywhere else.
The central chamber was already crowded when they descended. The vast circular space with its vaulted ceiling felt smaller somehow, oppressive with failing magic and the tension of panicked beings.
The five-pointed star inlaid in the floor still marked each throne's position, but the metals had lost their luster. His black marble reflected chaos instead of twilight.
The other Death Lords had already arrived.
Seraphina stood in full battle armor, her red hair bound with razor wire, every weapon she owned strapped to her frame. She looked ready to march into war the moment they identified a target.
"Reaper." She acknowledged him with a sharp nod, then her eyes flicked to Brynn. Approval crossed her fierce features. "Architect."
Brynn straightened beside him. The recognition was intentional—a warrior acknowledging another's earned place. The last time they were here, Seraphina had barely glanced at her.
Vex paced along the chamber's edge like a caged animal, his usual languid grace replaced by something twitchy and frantic. He looked diminished: skin too pale, movements too jerky, eyes too wide.
He kept looking at Brynn. Quick, darting glances that made Dante's jaw clench. His shadows darkened visibly around her, and Vex's gaze skittered away—someone losing their power, looking for anything to cling to. He wouldn't find it here.
Thessa drifted near the center star, her form more translucent than usual. She was seeing multiple timeline possibilities—he could tell by the way her eyes moved, tracking futures that hadn't happened yet.
Her expression was haunted and tired in a way he'd never seen. Whatever she was seeing made even the Lady of the Lingering afraid.
And Caelum.
Caelum stood at the head of the chamber in white and gold robes that seemed to emit their own light, untouched by the chaos. Hiscomposure was intact. Not a hair out of place. Not a trace of panic in his brown eyes.
Everyone else was afraid. Everyone else was scrambling. But Caelum looked like he'd been expecting this.
Suspicion hardened in Dante's chest.
"Thank the depths you're here," Caelum said, relief seeming genuine enough to make Dante's instincts scream louder. "I've been tracking the damage progression. We have perhaps forty-eight hours before complete collapse."
Brynn tensed at his side.
"Tracking?" Seraphina's hand moved to her sword hilt. "Since when do you monitor our individual ward systems? That's not part of your domain."
Dante watched Caelum's face. There was a slight tightening around his eyes.
"Since I realized someone was systematically weakening them." Caelum's expression shifted to grave concern. "I should have acted sooner. But I hoped I was wrong."
Caelum gestured, and the air above the star shimmered. Magic coalesced into a three-dimensional map of the entire ward network.
Hundreds of connection points. Thousands of smaller wards. Through sixty percent of them, angry red pulsed like spreading infection.
Brynn leaned forward, drawn by the map. Her eyes tracked the damage, reading a language only she could understand and already working the problem while the rest of them were still reeling.
"Show me the attack patterns." Her voice cut through the tension. "The sequence. Which wards failed first."
