'Third point of view'
The obsidian moon had risen high above the crimson sands of Erebos when Sebastian felt the change in the air—something darker than even his own power. He sat alone on his throne, the black marble beneath his feet pulsing faintly with the magic of the realm. The women of his court had retired for the night, each in her own chamber of luxury and shadows, except one.
Nerissa.
The Seeress had refused to sleep, claiming she heard whispers from the Void.
He didn't believe her until now.
The wind that howled through the hallways of the Citadel of Whispers was not wind at all—but voices. Thousands of them. Screaming, chanting, begging.
The torches lining the throne room gutters flickered violently, casting his statuesque form in stark silhouette. His red eyes narrowed as his fingers drummed the arm of his throne.
Then it came. The stench of rot.
And something else.
Lilies.
"Sebastian," came Nerissa's voice, soft but firm.
He turned his head slightly. She stood barefoot at the entrance of the throne hall, her white silks clinging to her body, translucent from the mist that clung to her skin.
Her long silver hair was drenched as though she'd stepped out of a storm.
"There is something beneath the citadel," she said, eyes glowing faint blue.
"It has awakened."
He rose slowly, letting his dark robe fall open, revealing the runes glowing along his bare chest and collarbones.
"What do you mean awakened? I killed everything down there myself."
Nerissa shook her head. "You didn't kill it. You fed it. Every spell, every blood sacrifice, every moment of passion in these halls—it fed on your reign."
He approached her, his presence towering. "Then why are you still here, Nerissa? Why not flee?"
She met his eyes without fear. "Because I was born to witness your fall. But not tonight."
He grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze upward. "I don't fall, Seeress. I conquer.
"Her breath hitched, but not from fear.
From desire.
Then the floor cracked.
A jagged line split across the obsidian tiles, forming a perfect circle around the throne. A black mist leaked out, not smoke but something denser—like silk and shadow combined. The air turned frigid. The heat of Sebastian's body barely held it back.
Nerissa whispered, "It's her…
"Sebastian tensed. "Who?"
Nerissa's voice trembled. "The Veiled One.
"Before he could ask, the shadows exploded. A figure emerged from the mist—tall, draped in mourning silks the color of void, her face completely hidden beneath a veil stitched with blood. Her presence was ancient, commanding, and terrifying.
The torches blew out. Only Sebastian's glowing runes lit the room now.
The figure floated inches above the ground, her movements graceful, too fluid to be mortal. Chains of gold dragged behind her, each link etched with the names of dead kings.
"You have desecrated the balance, O Forbidden King," she whispered, her voice echoing like a memory. "You have taken what was meant to rest.
"Sebastian raised his hand, summoning his blade from thin air. The greatsword burst into existence in a blaze of black fire.
"I take what I desire. That is the law of this realm.
"The Veiled One tilted her head, as if amused.
"And what of what desires you?
"Chains shot forward—dozens of them—like serpents. Sebastian sliced the first ten, but the rest wrapped around his limbs, his waist, and his neck.
"Sebastian!" Nerissa screamed, running forward.
A pulse of rage exploded from his body, shattering half the chains. He broke free, eyes glowing brighter than ever before. But not with fury.
With hunger.
Dark magic.
Magic that wasn't entirely his own.
The Veiled One glided closer, her hands held out like a mother greeting a wayward child. "I come not to destroy you, but to test you. Your harem is incomplete, your throne unworthy. You must claim the Fourth—she who walks between life and death.
"Sebastian scowled. "And if I refuse?
"The Veiled One laughed, a sound like bells underwater.
"Then the woman you love will rot from the inside out… starting tonight.
"Nerissa clutched her head and collapsed, screaming. Her veins lit up blue, then black.
Sebastian roared and stepped forward—but the Veiled One vanished into smoke, her laughter echoing as Nerissa convulsed at his feet.
Blood streamed from her eyes.
Then she whispered through cracked lips, "Find… the Reaper's Bride…
"Her body went still.---
Meanwhile, across the scorched deserts of Kuroval…
A girl dressed in tattered mourning silk wandered barefoot through the bones of a long-dead battlefield. Her skin was pale as snow, her eyes mismatched—one red, one gold.
She knelt beside a skull and whispered, "He will come. He has no choice.
"Behind her, a cloak of spirits followed her like loyal hounds, their faces frozen in agony.
She smiled softly.
The Reaper's Bride was waiting.---
Back in the throne room, Sebastian stared down at Nerissa's body.
She wasn't dead. Not yet.
But something had been taken from her.
And he knew what it meant.
The other women—Lyria, the fierce dragon-kin with fire in her blood, and Mira, the healer whose hands stitched life into soldiers—were in danger.
The Fourth Bride wasn't just a missing piece of his harem.
She was the key to either his godhood…Or his destruction.
And now the race had begun.
Because Sebastian was no longer the only one searching.
From the edge of the Deadlands, a cloaked assassin knelt before a ruined altar, whispering to a phantom goddess.
"Let him find her. And when he does… I'll take her heart."------