The Underworld was never meant to exist without its god. It had been meticulously planned, every cog working in perfect harmony to ensure that the machine worked flawlessly, and for eons, it did. Then one cog stopped turning.
Souls no longer moved as they should have. They arrived at the threshold of Death’s arches, waiting to be seen, to be judged, yet the moment never arrived. The underworld had always tended to the dead with precision, weighing souls without mercy and placing them in their respective cities, granting them a deserved afterlife. Whether the afterlife they deserve is filled with suffering or everlasting peace, however, is entirely based on the soul.
The absence of the king was felt throughout the realm. The rivers slowed, the lights across all the cities dimmed, and shadows began to peel off the walls, clinging to a soul and feasting on them. Doors that had been meant to remain closed had opened enough to allow a few souls out while those meant to stay open had shut abruptly, further disrupting the order of the Underworld. In the middle of the four cities stood Azrael’s palace. What was once a shining pillar of light in a realm almost entirely shrouded in darkness was now nothing but a memory made of stone. The palace still stood, immaculate and cold, but its light no longer welcomed the dead. It simply watched them gather, unclaimed by any city, as if they were mourning the one who had given it meaning.
Sitting upon the Underworld’s throne of bones was not the usual God of the Dead but instead an imposter. The imposter sat relaxed, inspecting a demon’s skull that he had ripped from the throne as he fidgeted with the pendant around his neck. The sounds of heel clacking against the marble floor grew louder but still the imposter did not look up, cold gaze focused on the abnormal horns protruding from the skull.
“My king,” a female voice said, her voice as smooth as silk. “Are you enjoying your new palace?” The imposter did not respond, focused on the skull. The woman frowned.
“The old god had quite the taste when it came to palaces, no?” She forced a smile, trying to gain the imposter’s attention. “Shame he had to lose his head, I suppose. We could’ve used him to redecorate this dreary palace in your honor.”
The imposter sighed before he lowered the skull, focusing his cold gaze on the demon in front of him. “What is it that you want, Aria?”
Aria’s smile dropped in seconds, her forest green eyes narrowing to gaze at the man in front of her as her spiked tail swung behind her. “What I want, Rowan,” she snapped, “Is for you to tell me what our next move is. We’ve killed a god, stolen his pendant, and now we’re just sleeping in his house?” She raised her arms in exasperation as she stepped onto the dais, the sound of her stiletto heels echoing throughout the grand throne room. “I don’t understand, I thought we were–”
“We are,” Rowan interrupted her. “We’re just taking a moment to rest, to grow accustomed to our new palace, and most importantly, to get to know the citizens of the Underworld.” He stood, towering over the demon. “After all,” he grinned. “What king would I be if I didn’t introduce myself to my subjects?”
“Well then why aren’t we doing that now?” She scoffed. “Instead of going out there and finding demons to join our army, we’re in here, sitting around and doing nothing!” A cold hand firmly grasped her chin, tilting her head up to look directly into Rowan’s cold eyes.
“Don’t you trust me, Aria?” He asked, a smirk plastered on his face. Aria’s eyes widened as she felt her heart race in her chest, her tail swishing quickly behind her. He was awfully close, and he was only getting closer as he leaned in. “Well?” He whispered. Aria managed to whisper a weak “I trust you” before Rowan’s smirk widened.
“Good.” He pushed her away, stepping off the dais as she fell onto it.
“Now go fetch my dagger,” He demanded. “It’s time the dead learned who rules them now.”
Souls lined the stone path leading up to the castle, drawn by instinct rather than command. They should have been moving, interacting with their fellow deceased, and slowly making it to their designated city but instead they were staring, observing the unwelcome presence that slowly made its way down the steps of their former king’s palace. Whispers filled the air, questioning who this man was, what was his intention here, where was their king, and most importantly, what did this mean for the Underworld?
“Look at them, Aria,” Rowan grinned, his cold eyes tracing the crowd of souls as they gazed upon him with a mix of fear and fascination. “Notice how they look at me with a fearful understanding? They know their king is dead. They sense it.”
Aria smirked, her pointed tail swishing behind her as she walked alongside him. “Yes, my King, they recognize your power!” She giggled, placing her hand on his arm only for it to be pried off seconds later.
“They certainly recognize my power but whether they accept me as their new king or wish to rebel is the question.” Rowan looked out upon the crowd. He seemed to embrace the stares, relishing in the fear and curiosity that the souls emitted. He walked ahead, stopping only when he had reached the middle of the Veilwater. The Underworld seemed to still, souls from all regions stopping to listen to the imposter. Euphinia’s music died down, Blurimia’s rain stopped, Malthera’s chaos stilled, and Axiom’s screams subsided. Heads turned and eyes zoned in on the man standing atop the entrance to the Underworld.
“Look at you,” Rowan said softly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the Veilwater. “Waiting. Always waiting.” He spread his arms out as if to welcome all the watching souls. “You were promised order in your afterlife. Judgement. Purpose. You were told that when you die someone would weigh you, see you, decide what afterlife you truly deserve.” A thin smile curved his lips as his cold eyes looked down on the four cities. “And you waited so patiently for it.”
His gaze hardened. “But your god is gone.” A ripple passed through the crowd, murmurs of fear, disbelief, and grief filled the air, but Rowan did not pause. “He has left you. He is no longer listening to your prayers, no longer watching over you all, he is gone.” He tapped the pendant around his neck. “And yet you still stand here, waiting patiently in hopes that your beloved king will return and fix this broken machine.”
Rowan stepped closer to the edge, souls leaning in towards him like worshippers. “I am not here to comfort you. I am not here to judge you kindly. I am here because the Underworld will not survive without a ruler, and I refuse to let it rot.” He tilted his head, a sly grin stretching across his lips as he studied the crowd of millions of dead, demons and souls alike, that stared at him with awe. Rowan’s gaze swept over, slow and deliberate, as if weighing their worth.
“This realm does not need faith,” he said calmly. “It needs order.”
He lifted the pendant, its dark gleam standing out in the iridescent gleam of the Veilwater.
“Those who kneel will be given purpose. You will move again. You will be shaped, sharpened, and remembered.”
His eyes hardened. “Those who refuse will remain here, waiting, fading, until there is nothing left of you but ash and regret.” Silence pressed down on the Underworld, thick and suffocating. Rowan smiled, sending a sense of unease across the four cities.
“Choose,” he said. “Kneel, and serve what comes next…or wither beneath it.”
The crowd erupted, shouts of encouragement and rage both filling the earlier science of the realm. Far beyond the crowd, hidden in the slums of Malthera, an unlikely duo emerged.
“He’s going to destroy this realm.” A faint voice muttered in disbelief, blank eyes widening. A hand rested on her shoulder. “Calm yourself, Serena,” A male voice replied. “We mustn’t get distracted. We have to leave. Now.”
Serena sighed. “I know, but look at what this imposter is doing to our home, Kiero! All of the Underworld seems to be falling for his words,” She exclaimed, turning to face the demon. “We can’t just sit here idly while he sits on our king’s throne as if Azrael never existed.”
Kiero nodded. “I agree, which is why we must leave now, to get help.”
Serena took one final glance at what was once her home before she turned away and took Kiero’s hand. “Fine, let’s go.”
The two scurried away to the edge of the city, heading to an exit hidden behind the tallest skyscraper in all of Malthera. The shouts behind them grew louder as Rowan called out to the souls, promising things that the pair knew he’d never do. As they neared the portal to the overworld, Kiero glanced back at Serena. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked. “This is your last chance to turn back, you can–”
“I’m going,” She interrupted him as she stepped up to the portal. “Just promise me you won’t leave me up there.”
Kiero nodded, moving next to her and taking her hand. “I promise.”
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As the pair stepped into the portal, the shouts only grew louder. All across the realm, they felt it: the rule of a king who would not be denied, and Rowan did nothing but smile.
Aionyx would kneel or rot beneath him, and he would welcome the sight.
As the pair surfaced, they found themselves in the middle of a city filled with bright lights and loud noises. Colourful bulb lights dangled from every rooftop and an assortment of different chatter rose towards them from all sides. The atmosphere was warm, but the temperature was anything but. Snowflakes floated down from the night sky, delicately falling to lay down in a recently formed layer of snow. One snowflake in particular, found itself unlucky enough to land on the nose of Kiero, who quickly licked it off then proceeded to whine that it had no flavour.
“What is this?” Serena asked, spinning around as she glanced up at the gracefully falling snow. Amused by her actions, Kiero watched her, a smile on his face. “I don’t know, but it tastes different than the ash that usually falls in Axiom,” He shrugged, turning away. “Okay, we seem to be in Virelya judging by the constant smiles and hugging everywhere.”
“Mortals now are so strange,” Serena shuddered. “Back when I was alive, we were more focused on surviving than holding hands and singing songs. Disgraceful.”
“You sound like an Eternal, Serena,” He scoffed, giving her a deadpan look. “Constantly complaining about the state of humanity in today’s generation.”
Serena opened her mouth to complain but she was cut off by Kiero, who had clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her into an alleyway, behind a wall to shield her from the group of mortals that strode past them, laughing and chattering away as if they had not a care in the world, and maybe they didn't. Mortals in this city seemed happy, careless, as if they were unaware of the danger going on in the rest of the world. A god was dead, the Underworld was being ruled by an imposter, the threads of fate were all out of order, yet these mortals kept skipping along, laughing and chatting away, as if unaffected by it all, and it disgusted Kiero.
He had always hated mortals. Stories of the horrors that they had caused in the past were always told to young demons in Malthera to scare them into being good. He vaguely remembered stories of beheadings, wars, and hunters that brought nothing but a sense of discomfort to Kiero now.
“Kiero?” Serena murmured against his hand.
“Hm?”
“Can you let go of me now?”
“Oh, sure.” He moved his hand away and started out of the alley, Serena following closely behind him.
As they strode out into the bustling streets of Virelya, heads turned to stare at them. The citizens could tell that they weren’t from the Overworld, that they weren’t mortal.
“It seems that this place is nothing like Noctivale,” Serena murmured, looking down at the snow covered ground to hide her unnaturally white eyes. “These mortals seem to have never seen a demon before, let alone two.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter, we have to get to Noctivale,” Kiero tucked his tail into his jacket and pulled his hood over his head to hide his horns. He didn’t want to alarm the mortals. “Which means we’ll have to talk to one of them.”
“Ugh, I don’t like people,” Serena grimaced, crossing her arms to preserve heat. The snow was getting heavier and she was extremely underdressed. The Underworld burned with the power of ten suns, making demons extremely unprepared to handle the cold temperatures of certain regions in the overworld. “Besides, why do we have to interact with them, can’t we just get to Noctivale ourselves?”
“No,” Kiero pulled her aside, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Do you know what mortals do to demons in these regions?”
Serena shook her head.
“They shoot them,” He whispered bluntly. “They hunt them down and they shoot them with their crossbows.”
“Then what are we going to do?” Serena whispered, her voice shaky as she trembled from both fear and the cold.
“We’re going to find a mortal, attach ourselves to them, and use them to get us to Noctivale safely.” He turned away, scouring the crowd for a viable mortal.
His eyes landed on three mortals: an older man, an elegant lady, and a young girl. The older man may be old-fashioned and set in the demon-hunting ways and the elegant lady seemed focused on her wealth, meaning that he couldn’t count on her not selling the pair away for a bounty, so Kiero removed both of them as an option.
The young girl, however, seemed perfect. Walking with her head lowered, the girl walked the bustling streets, somehow blending in and standing out at the same time. She pulled a hood over her head as if she were hiding something. Kiero watched the girl for a moment, noting her appearance: dark brown hair tied into a ponytail, unnaturally dark blue eyes, tanned skin, which she tried to conceal under a ragged cloak. She moved through the snow-dusted streets, weaving between onlookers whose eyes followed her as if she were a truly unique sight to see.
While the mortals chose to remain blissfully ignorant, Kiero grinned as if he knew something that they did not.
“Perfect.” He said softly before he blended into the shadows and disappeared, leaving a very panicked Serena behind. Kiero moved quickly, following and watching everyone all at once as he used his abilities to turn the shadows into his eyes. He swiftfully glided through the shadows until he had managed to leap and blend into the girl’s shadow. Unknowingly, the girl turned into a small street, giving the demon the perfect time to pounce. Kiero shot out of the shadows, lunging at the girl who tried to scream but didn’t have enough time to do so before Kiero clamped a hand over her mouth and pressed a claw against her neck.
“Don’t scream.” He whispered in her ear before using the shadows to motion to Serena that it was safe to approach, and she arrived in seconds.
The girl nodded but she seemed unfazed, her tired eyes tracing over the two mysterious entities who had momentarily silenced her.
“Now, we need a mortal to attach ourselves to and I think you’re the perfect candidate,” Kiero whispered, his spiked tail tracing down the girl’s spine. “You’re going to take us to Noctivale, understand?” As he moved his hand away, the girl simply chuckled.
“You could’ve just asked,” she smiled. “I’m heading there anyway.”
The two undead beings exchanged a look of curiosity. “You seem…calm? Are you not afraid of us?” Serena asked, leaning forward to better study the interesting girl.
“I mean, should I be?” The girl asked but was met with two contradicting responses of yes and no from the pair.
“Anyways, I’m Adrianna, but you can call me Adri.” Adrianna outstretched her hand. Kiero looked down at her hand and simply tilted his head.
“What is that?” He asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“A handshake?” She chuckled. “It’s a thing people do during greetings, like when they meet someone for the first time.”
“There will be none of that. Take us to Noctivale.” Kiero demanded, the shadows around him swirling as if they sensed the underlying threat in his tone.
“Please?” Serena added politely which elicited a chuckle from the sole mortal in the trio.
“Sure, I’ve got a wagon waiting in an alley near the town square. You can hitch a ride with me.”
The ever contradicting pair gave two responses that gave no clear direction to Adrianna on what to do next, so she simply sighed and started walking.
“Okay, so I should mention that the wagon isn’t technically mine but we can still use it and–” She spun around and couldn’t see the pair. “Guys?”
“We’re here,” A voice hissed in the back of her mind. “Stop talking so loudly.”
“Where’s Serena?” Adri muttered under her breath.
“I’m here!”
When Adrianna turned around, she no longer saw the ethereal glowing eyes, ghostly white, blue haired figure of Serena but instead was met with a tan, lightly freckled, brunette with brown eyes. The new figure smiled and took her arm. “Lead the way!”
Adrianna walked alongside the new figure and couldn’t help but stare.
“Serena?” She whispered. “Is it really you?”
The tan figure nodded. “Of course it’s me, it’s just my mortal form.”
“And Kiero? Why isn’t he in his mortal form?”
“He hates it, finds it uncomfortable compared to his normal form.”
“So where is he and why can I–”
“I’m attached to you, in your shadow,” Kiero’s voice interrupted the conversation. “Just as your shadow is always with you, so am I. Now can you stop chatting and get to the wagon?” Both Adrianna and Serena chose to lower their heads and walk on.
The town square grew closer, snow covered homes towering over the trio as they left footprints in the snow, and Adrianna decided to break the silence. “So, how come you guys are going to Noctivale?”
As soon as Serena opened her mouth to respond, Kiero cut her off, snapping at Adrianna.
“None of your business. Where is the wagon?”
Adrianna turned a corner and unveiled a wagon that hid under both a tarp and a light bed of snow. “Here it is, now hop on and I’ll attach the horses. There are some snacks in the back.”
As Serena and Kiero, who had now manifested back from his shadow form, sat in the back, Kiero lifted a curious looking red box. “What is this?” He mumbled before ripping the box open to reveal an assortment of tiny colored circles.
“Okay, I’ve got everything set, let’s take off!” Adrianna exclaimed before she jumped onto the front of the wagon and led the horses off. Serena sat calmly in the back but Kiero decided to further investigate the curious colored circles, taking a bite out of them. “Mmm!” he hummed as the trio disappeared down the main street of Virelya, and above them, unseen, the sky shifted. The journey to Noctivale had begun, and so had the war.
