"Third point of View "
Sebastian didn't sleep. He sat on the edge of the throne dais as Nerissa's body convulsed beside him, each breath a ragged echo of the last. Her once-brilliant silver hair clung to her cheeks, soaked in sweat and dark magic. He watched the way the veins along her throat pulsed black, the corruption threading deeper into her soul.
"The Reaper's Bride," he whispered to himself, his voice laced with venom and urgency. "So this is your game."
Torches lit themselves again, flickering in defiance of the cold that had settled over the Citadel of Whispers. The crimson hue cast dancing shadows along the columns, but the warmth never returned. The air still trembled with a residual presence, the lingering essence of the Veiled One.
He rose and summoned his second-in-command, Valik, a warlock with a face half-burned from forbidden rituals. Within moments, the man knelt before him.
"Send word to the Outer Spires. I want the oracles of flame awake. If one of them even breathes the name of the Reaper's Bride, bring her to me. If they resist..."
Valik bowed. "They will not resist."
"And bring me Lyria and Mira. Now."
The warlock vanished into the shadows.
Sebastian knelt beside Nerissa, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. Her breathing slowed, but her skin was losing color fast.
"You're not dying here," he murmured, "Not until you tell me everything."
Footsteps echoed behind him.
He turned just as Lyria stormed into the throne room, her crimson armor half-undone, eyes blazing with fury. Mira followed, her silk robes trailing behind her like clouds of healing light.
"You summoned us in the middle of the night for this?" Lyria growled. "You said no emergencies unless--"
Her eyes fell on Nerissa's body.
"What happened?"
"She was attacked by something ancient," Sebastian said. "Something... divine."
Mira rushed to Nerissa and dropped to her knees. Her fingers glowed a gentle green as she pressed them to Nerissa's temple, then to her chest. She flinched.
"This is death magic," she whispered. "No... not death. Beyond death."
Sebastian nodded. "The Veiled One."
Lyria unsheathed her dagger. "I thought that was a myth."
"She's real. And she wants me to find the fourth woman."
Lyria arched a brow. "Another woman?"
"The Reaper's Bride."
Mira's hand trembled. "That name hasn't been spoken in centuries. She lives in the in-between. Not quite mortal, not quite spirit."
"She may be the key to saving Nerissa," Sebastian said.
Lyria crossed her arms. "Or a curse wrapped in a beautiful body."
"Either way, I have to find her. And you'll both help me."
Lyria narrowed her eyes. "Even if it means letting another woman into your bed?"
He stepped toward her, his voice a low growl. "Would you rather watch Nerissa die?"
She looked away, jaw clenched.
Mira sighed. "I will go with you. Wherever this woman is, we'll find her."
"Good," Sebastian said. "Because the veil between life and death is thinner than ever, and someone wants me to cross it."
---
Far beyond the reach of the Citadel, in a place where the sun never rose, the Reaper's Bride stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a valley of spirits. Each soul cried out, tethered by invisible chains.
She was barefoot, her dress stitched from funeral veils and bone-thread. Her mismatched eyes glowed faintly in the gloom.
A whisper tickled her ear: He comes.
She turned slowly. The wind carried no scent, only promises.
---
Back in Erebos, preparations for the journey had begun. The royal stables released the death steeds, black stallions whose hooves sparked shadowfire. Sebastian dressed in battle robes, the obsidian cloth etched with his blood-seals. Mira rode beside him, her hair braided with charms of protection. Lyria trailed behind, sullen but alert, her dragonfire ready.
They rode for three days through ruins and cursed lands, each night colder than the last. Spirits howled from the trees. The stars themselves avoided their path.
On the fourth dawn, the terrain changed. The ground turned grey. Mist covered the road. Trees twisted like writhing corpses.
"We're close," Mira said.
Sebastian dismounted and drew his blade. "We go on foot."
Lyria lit a flame in her palm. "I don't like this."
"You're not supposed to."
They crossed into the Valley of Murmurs. Ghosts wailed from the mist, whispering things in dead tongues.
And at the heart of it, they found her.
The Reaper's Bride stood on a crumbling altar, surrounded by skulls.
She looked up.
Sebastian met her gaze.
Time stopped.
She stepped forward, her veil fluttering, revealing the lower half of her face: full lips, slightly parted.
"You have no right to be here, King of the Forbidden."
"I have every right," Sebastian said. "One of mine is dying. And you hold the cure."
"What I hold is not a cure," she whispered. "It's a contract."
She raised her hand.
The ground trembled. Spirits burst upward like geysers.
She pointed at him.
"Give me your blood... and your throne. Then I will come to you."
Lyria snarled. "Don't listen to her."
But Sebastian stepped forward.
"Take my blood," he said. "But you'll never have my throne."
The Reaper's Bride smiled.
Then her face split open into a scream of smoke, and the spirits attacked.
---