I spread it out on the table for her, pushing aside trinkets and tomes. This map of the Underworld is the most comprehensive in existence, showing every village, river, mountain range, cave, ocean, and ruin in the Underworld. No mortal eyes have ever seen it until now. “This is the Underworld,” I say as Briar’s eyes devour the map.
“What is all this?” She whispers, touching a corner tentatively.
“It’s my realm, the whole of it,” I say, a hint of pride in my voice.
“It’s enormous,” she says. Her eyes are wide as they dart from name to name. “It’s larger than the Western Continent.”
I point to a ruin on the southern islands on the other side of the Stone Sea. “This is Archech, the burial place of my predecessor.”
“Archech?” Recognition flickers in her eyes before she furrows her brows. “Your predecessor?”
“I was not the first God to call himself Death,” I explain. “Before me, there was Drogaem. Upon his death, his powers came to me.”
“But he isn’t your father?” Briar asks.
“No, that isn’t how inheritance works anymore. Many thousands of years ago it did, but when Lux was destroyed for her bloodline, the rules changed.” I study her closely for any sign of recognition at the name of the dead Goddess.
Briar doesn’t show any interest in the name. “So, Archech is where Drogaem is buried?” She asks slowly, stumbling over the complicated name.
“Yes.” I meet her gaze. “I need you if I’m to get there.”
“Why?” She furrows her brows, puzzled.
I ignore her question. “I know we’ve only just returned, but I want to get to Archech as soon as possible. If you’re able, we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“It looks far,” she mutters hesitantly.
“It is. And we won’t be able to magic ourselves there,” I explain. “It’s protected by powerful spells.”
“More powerful than you?” Briar asks, eyes lifting to meet mine.
I press my lips together in a thin line, eyes flashing darkly. “For the time being.”
Briar leans back and taps her fingers on the desk. “But why do you need me?”
“For moral support,” I say, flashing her a teasing grin.
A smile quirks her lips, but she tries to hide it. “Alright,” she concedes. “I’ll help you. But I want to know the real reason, eventually.”
“I just told you,” I say, propping one arm on the desk and grinning at her.
Briar strides towards the door, tossing a glance over her shoulder. Her gray eyes are sharp and intelligent. “Let’s pretend I believe you,” she says.
I smirk at her as she slips out of my office, leaving me alone with my visions of the future. I stare at the door for an instant, half-hoping she'll return. But it's best that she leaves me for the time being. There's much to plan and a lot of notes to review. The journey to Archech will take us through the most dangerous parts of the Underworld. And the tomb itself will hold mysteries not even I can imagine. Running my tongue over my lips, I sit down in the plush leather chair and begin to work. Soon, the ax hanging over my head will be no more. I have what I need.
Briar, of the Line of the Gods.
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Bailey Dark is obsessed with all things dark, hot, and supernatural. From Fae to Aliens, her heroes are thoroughly alpha and pure raw masculinity. When she’s not writing (which is hardly ever) she’s busy watching every movie in the marvel universe, or binging supernatural on her couch. So come along, and enter her dark world. . . .
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Chapter One
Altair
The purple hue of the dusky sky is fringed with orange. The sun is rising, though the daylight hasn’t yet driven out the night. The stars are still visible, winking above the city and the palace. From the roofless tower, I can hear my people below. The sounds of the city echo towards me, reaching high into the sky. Music and laughter. Laughter that will soon fall silent forever.
I narrow my eyes, staring angrily towards the mountain range in the distance. I can almost see Maaz and her Bloodbane witches soaring over the mountain peaks on their deadwood brooms. But it’s only a flock of birds.
I’m running out of time. The night is disappearing, and the days are passing too quickly. I relish the night. Every morning, as dawn approaches, I can’t escape the memory of the day Maaz cursed me. Cursed me to become the beast she saw when I refused her. I close my eyes, envisioning the moment.
Maaz, dressed in the blood-red gown slinked into my throne room as if it were hers already. She had dragged her long, black fingernails across my throat and down my chest, grinning.
I will never forget that grin. Cursed, she had said. Cursed for a thousand years or until I find a Bloodbane witch to break the spell and bind herself to me willingly. Cursed to die, along with all of my people, at the end of the thousand years.
And time is running short.
My stomach twists as Maaz’s cruel smirk flashes through my mind again. The wind caresses my cheek, and I open my eyes to stare down at my city once more. My coat snaps out behind me as the wind speed picks up. It’s coming from the West, towards the mountains.
I scowl, probably a reminder from Maaz. A gloat. A boast. She thinks she’s won already. Fury sweeps through me, sending my blood singing with blood lust. I swing my arm towards the flag pole beside me, where my banner proudly waves, and drive my fist through the wood. It splinters loudly, and the pole breaks in half. It clatters to the stone floor of the tower, the flag coiled beneath it.
I stare down at it, at the black hawk poised to strike on the background of
