Jeid kept walking among them. He smiled at children, trying to cheer them in the shadows. He prayed for the wounded. He embraced those who grieved for the fallen or trembled with worries for the missing. He kept traveling through the labyrinth of tunnels, passing by each of his people. He could not remember when last he had slept. Since arriving here—it had been at least two days, maybe three—he had alternated between blowing fire and consoling his people.

I need sleep. I need food and drink. I need Maev and Laira here with me.

He was talking to a trembling mother, her son fallen, when the scream echoed through the caves.

Jeid froze. He spun toward the sound. He began to run.

He raced down the tunnel, passing by pale, trembling people. The smell of blood guided him. He rushed around a corner, froze, and nearly gagged.

Stars . . .

One of his people lay slumped against the wall, his chest cracked open. The ribs had been tugged outward like swinging doors. The innards had been scooped out—the heart, the lungs, all missing—leaving a hollowed cavity. Splatters of blood covered the wall. It took Jeid a moment to realize: those were no random splatters but rather a painting. The blood formed the shape of the Draco constellation.

Bryn came walking down the tunnel, mumbling to herself, her shoulders stooped with weariness. When the young woman saw the corpse, she stepped back and covered her mouth, stifling a scream.

"Who did this?" she whispered, pale and trembling.

Jeid stared down at the corpse. His chest constricted. He looked at Bryn and forced the words from his mouth: "We are not alone in these caves."

RAEM

 
RAEM

Raem Seran, King of Eteer, stepped into the halls of the Abyss with his demon bride.

Today I sink into the very depths of the underworld, he thought. Today I rise to my greatest heights.

A tunnel stretched before him, its walls formed of skin and veins. As Raem walked upon his hoof and talon, the floor bended and bled beneath him. It felt like walking through the vein of a giant. Prisoners were sewn into the walls, floor, and ceiling—some were humans, some were demons, and some were something in between. Their mouths smacked. Their eyes shed tears. Those who could speak begged for death; those that could not simply whimpered or screamed. Raem smiled at the poor creatures.

"They are witness to the marriage march of a king and queen," he said to his bride. "They weep for our glory."