The Underworld (Rhyn Eternal)

by Lizzy Ford

  The silence passed, and a trail opened to his left, cutting through the forest for at least a mile.

  “It’s not the way to the palace,” he murmured, frowning.

  “Your domain will not betray its master.”

  Gabriel took a step towards the new pathway, his insides twisting in concern for those trapped with the death dealers. “I’m trusting you,” he said under his breath to his surroundings.

  Gabriel quickened to a trot and then a run. The forest made no move to stop him again, instead opening the trail far ahead, a sign he was meant to go the way it wanted him to.

  Darkyn trailed, running at his heels.

  The trail wound through low hills and dips that ran along the eastern floor of the forest, through small fields and larger clearings, in a direction Gabriel soon recognized.

  The forest was taking him to the Lake of Souls, located not too far from the palace. His pace quickened when he realized where the underworld led him, and he began to worry something else had gone wrong with the souls that hadn’t yet bled through to the lakes in the human world.

  The green glow above the lake – visible during daylight or night – was soon ahead.

  Branches snaked into his path and blocked the trail, a sign he needed to slow.

  Gabriel did so and unsheathed his sword. The branches left the path.

  “I smell them,” Darkyn said quietly, drawing abreast of him. His long daggers were drawn. “Four.”

  “Easy. Where are they?”

  The demon lifted his nose to the air and breathed in deeply. “Three right, one left at the mouth of the trail.”

  “I’ll take the three,” Gabriel said, cold fury resurfacing at the idea of confronting those who betrayed him and put the entire world in danger.

  Darkyn slapped the flat of one dagger across his chest as he started forward. “I need the food.”

  Gabriel hesitated at the ragged note in the demon lord’s voice. Unwilling to pity the source of evil in the universe, he at least acknowledged that he needed the Dark One at full strength if they were to take on a few hundred death dealers.

  “Bon appetit,” he responded.

  Darkyn started forward at a trot.

  Gabriel gave him a head start of a few feet, not about to cross swords with the blood maddened demon yet. Darkyn launched out of the forest without a second look, throwing himself into the midst of the three death dealers huddled together, talking.

  With a quick glance at his surroundings, Gabriel ignored the sounds of a demon slaughtering and eating his prey and instead, faced the remaining death dealer.

  The man’s eyes widened, and he raised his sword too late.

  Gabriel severed his head with one stroke of his massive sword and sheathed the weapon before kneeling beside the body.

  “One fate for traitors,” he said, feeling no sympathy whatsoever for the betrayer.

  Green fog lifted from the dead dealer’s body, swirling and snaking towards Gabriel.

  He held out his hand. A small emerald – the Immortal’s soul – formed in the palm of his hand. There was a time when he’d regret having to punish a traitor, when it hurt him as much as the soul to crush it and send it to an eternity in Hell.

  That time was gone, another shred of his humanity taken when his mate and Deidre were kidnapped. If anything, he hesitated only because he doubted he had too many threads of humanity left in him.

  I never want to be the Death she was. Yet the more he learned, he more he realized why she’d done some of what she did, and how little alike they truly were. Past-Death had known no mercy or kindness as a goddess and viewed his as weaknesses. She executed her duty with cold devotion. While he recognized her effectiveness, he also knew that she lacked empathy and respect for those she served.

  It was human to provide those that failed the first time a second chance to make things right. Deities didn’t understand the concept. He was a mix of both, capable of giving second chances or stripping that right away.

  Gabriel debated for a moment. He’d shown leniency on the human plane to those death dealers that sought to betray him. A quick death and not sending their souls to Hell was the only second chance he’d offer.

  But here … in his underworld, knowing what he did about Harmony’s plan to kidnap his mate and Deidre, he didn’t feel anywhere near as generous. There were times when second chances weren’t warranted, and the heartless wrath of a god was.

  Protecting those who deserved his compassion from those who did not was his priority now. The lines were more cleanly drawn in the underworld. He could no longer view punishing his former colleagues with regret for what they’d done to disrupt the balance of life and death and endanger so many innocent souls.

  He roused himself and stood. The sounds of Darkyn gorging on the bodies of the Immortals ceased, and Gabriel turned.

  Looks like someone exploded. None of the remaining pieces of the three men were in chunks larger than the size of his hand, and blood was splattered everywhere, dripping down Darkyn’s chin and coating the ground at his feet.

  “This is yours,” Gabriel said and tossed him the soul.

  Darkyn caught it.

  Gabriel went to the edge of the Lake of Souls and crouched beside it, gazing into the waters. Souls rested in the bottom or floated in currents – billions, perhaps trillions, of them. The leaking of souls into the mortal plane was unprecedented. While the relative percentage was small, it never should’ve been possible for the souls to bleed over in the first place. He risked the souls being captured by the Dark One or other souleaters who might want the emeralds for reasons other than to protect the dead.

  The waters were still. The last time he’d been here, the Lake was bubbling and boiling, in clear turmoil.

  Wind swept through the trees. Rather than the slithering of snakelike branches, he heard something different, faint, sad. A mournful call, the unified sorrow of the trees and millions of life forms that existed in the underworld.

  “You’re in pain,” he whispered, startled to realize his home was capable of emotion as well as communicating with him.

  Gabriel shifted to his knees, concerned, and placed his hands in the shallow waters nearest him. The suffering was here, too, and he closed his eyes to listen.

  The Lake’s murmur was soft and just as sad, the currents tickling his fingers and conveying tiny shocks of pain. He struggled to understand fully what the Lake wanted him to know, why the underworld had brought him here. The heart of the underworld, the Lake was the source of Death’s power and magic. Its walls were cracked, and it was losing souls daily, despite his efforts to seal the cracks in the human world.

  Help. The Lake mourned the loss of its souls and experienced pain at the cracked plane between the underworld and mortal realm.

  Gabriel withdrew his hands from the waters, overwhelmed by the emotions of his underworld. He sat for a long moment, raw and desperate, not at all certain what to do to comfort the heartbroken lake and troubled souls it contained or even if he could do anything.

  Darkyn knelt beside him and stretched for the water.

  “No.” Gabriel caught his wrist. “The trees may not object to you being here, but the Lake will fuck you up. It does not tolerate demons, even now.”

  Darkyn growled but lowered his hand, his hungry gaze on the souls in the waters.

  Gabriel knew Darkyn’s intention of stealing souls to make an army of undead. They’d been competing at finding souls in the mortal world for weeks now. He reminded himself to be careful about how much he revealed to the demon with neither morals nor empathy.

  “Why did it bring us here?” the Dark One demanded. He stood and began pacing restlessly.

  “Blood didn’t take the edge off?”

  “No matter how much I drink, I will still starve.”

  Gabriel said nothing, attention returning to the lake. The demon’s words stirred his sense of urgency, the one he was trying hard to repress so he could think clearly and understand the mes
sage his home was trying to give him. One thought didn’t allow him to dismiss the demon the way he wished to: that of the human Deidre starving alongside her mate.

  “It’s hurt. Sad. Broken,” he responded. “Does Hell have a heart?”

  “Heart?” The Dark One snorted. “Hell has a source of power, one that must remain intact.”

  “How does it work?”

  Darkyn stared at him. “How? It simply does. It’s the origin of my power, a gathering of all the depravity that exists in the universe, like the lake is yours.”

  “What would you do if it cracked?”

  “Fix it.”

  Gabriel suppressed his sarcastic response. The demon was agitated, as if realizing how fucked he was now that normal blood didn’t quell his appetite.

  He’s not the only one fucked. Gabriel wiped his face. “The harder I fight, the worse things get.”

  “Then stop fighting.”

  “And what? Watch the world crumble?”

  “You don’t get it, baby god.” There was a mocking note in Darkyn’s voice, one that made heat climb up Gabriel’s neck. “How do I explain to someone with your puny, human understanding of the world?”

  Gabriel shook his head, ready to ignore whatever the Dark One planned on saying to bait him next.

  “Your mate. Would you talk to her or treat her the way you do the underworld?”

  Gabriel twisted, eyeing the creature.

  Darkyn was licking one of his fangs again, focus on the forest, his head tilted as if he was listening.

  “No,” Gabriel said after he assessed that the demon wasn’t fucking with him. “Would you?”

  “A mate has to be won over and then, there is nothing she won’t do for you.”

  “You said she had to be conquered before.”

  “Same thing.”

  “You see only the end game, don’t you? I’m looking at the how.”

  “If you do your part, you only need be concerned with the end game.”

  I know I fucked that part up already. Gabriel grimaced. “So do your part and talk to the domain like it’s a partner rather than a servant.”

  “Just a suggestion. I don’t give a fuck what you do, except that the end game here concerns me.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Gabriel stood.

  “I grow tired of this.”

  “I know. One question and I’ll stop talking to you. Trust me, I’d rather not fucking deal with you, either.”

  Darkyn waited.

  “Do you care for her?” Gabriel asked quietly. “I know demons can’t love and human emotion is very different. But in as much as a demon can, do you care for her?”

  “I think my mate is the least of your concerns, Gabriel.” A dangerous note was on Darkyn’s tone.

  Gabriel nodded. Given what he knew of the Dark One, he sensed it was the only response he’d ever get from the demon on the topic. He’d hit a nerve, which was enough to tell him that what he suspected was true. Some part of Darkyn was here for a reason other than he was hungry.

  The knowledge soothed away some of Gabriel’s lingering guilt about Deidre ending up in Hell. He knew what she felt, that she had fallen for her mate. Now, he was certain it wasn’t a one-way road.

  The sound of someone making his way through the forest broke the tension between them.

  Darkyn whirled, and Gabriel drew a dagger.

  Rhyn emerged, sweating and grinning, his cheek slashed from a weapon’s strike. Darkyn replaced his daggers and paced. Rhyn trotted towards them.

  “Good news and bad news,” the half-demon said cheerfully. “Good news: we’ve got allies here. Not many, but they might help.”

  “Good,” Gabriel said, pleased to know he had some loyal dealers left. “Bad news?”

  “There are about three hundred dealers in the palace.” Rhyn swatted at a branch that got too close. “More in the barracks and scattered in the forest.”

  “I’m ready.” Darkyn started towards the trees.

  Gabriel shared a glance with Rhyn. “Darkyn, we need a better plan than taking on three hundred trained death dealers.”

  The Dark One ignored him. The trees separated for him, creating a path in the direction of the palace.

  “Guess we’re doing this the demon way,” Rhyn said with a wink. “We got this, Gabe. Easy.”

  Gabriel said nothing, unable to shake the sense he needed to figure out something more about the Lake, like how to help it. He was missing the key to unlocking his power. Was it here?

  “We need to return here once we’ve got things under control,” he said, walking with Rhyn towards the path.

  “Darkyn’s not gonna last too much longer without going crazy,” Rhyn said softly, eyes on the demon ahead of them.

  “I know.” Gabriel’s hands twitched with the instinct to grab his sword. “He’ll probably explode and take everyone with him.”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “We’ll be ready. As long as his mate is –” Gabriel smashed into a sudden wall of foliage and stopped, staring up at it.

  “What the fuck?” Rhyn asked from the other side. “You there?”

  Gabriel cursed and wiped his face. “Go with Darkyn,” he snapped. “Apparently, the Lake has some business with me.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Gabriel didn’t need to see his best friend’s face to know Rhyn was likely plotting a few different ways to take out Darkyn. The two had a brittle relationship, mainly because Darkyn had tried for months to kidnap Rhyn’s mate and steal their unborn daughter.

  “Play nice,” Gabriel called. “For my sake. When this is over, you can go back to trying to kill each other.”

  “All right.” Rhyn didn’t sound pleased. “Find us when the trees let you.”

  Gabriel glared at the foliage. The sounds of Rhyn moving away faded, and Gabriel retreated back to the lake, furious.

  “Tell me what the fuck you want,” he ordered the Lake. “You know we don’t have time for this shit!”

  The moment the words escaped, he recalled what Darkyn had said.

  There were days when he wanted to talk to past-Death like this, but he never would. He didn’t quite feel calm enough to take a gentler approach.

  Gabriel tried to leave by a different direction only for the wall to pop up again.

  Reining in his anger, he went back to the Lake and sat beside it. It took a few minutes for his frustration to subside, and he shook his shoulders free.

  “I’m here and I’m listening,” he said with difficulty. “Right now, my friends are in danger. I need you to talk to me. Somehow.”

  He waited.

  The Lake said nothing.

  Gabriel sat back against a boulder. Every part of his being screamed at him to leave, to help Rhyn and his mate and Deidre.

  But he stayed. Darkyn’s wise words circulated through his emotions, assuring him that his domain was trying to work with him, not make his life worse. The underworld wanted to show him something, and he was going to figure out what.

  Hopefully without losing those I care about.

  “There’s over a ninety nine percent chance that you’ll need a succession plan before this is over.”

  Darkyn ignored the deity Fate, intent on getting as close as possible to the palace to assess what it’d take to conquer Harmony’s forces. He had nothing but cold dispassion for the living forest and its lost master. With a healthy respect for Gabriel as Death’s top assassin, Darkyn was waiting for the newly turned god to realize his power and end the disorder of his domain.

  A rebellion in Hell would be met with nothing short of the crushing might of Hell. It would never be permitted to grow this far out of control.

  “Same chance I gave you of ever getting your mate,” Fate added.

  “So clearly you’ve been wrong before. You will be again,” Darkyn snapped.

  “Except you knew coming here that something was going to happen.”

  Darkyn paused and turned to face the deity with golden ski
n and eyes of ever-changing hues. “It’s always a risk.”

  “There’s more to lose this time.”

  “I don’t lose.”

  “Except for the first time you tried to takeover Hell and then the human world,” Fate pointed out.

  Darkyn had never understood how his father, Zamon, was on such good terms with a creature that knew neither discipline, war nor self-sacrifice for the sake of victory. He barely tolerated the godling and did so only because it was generally expected that deities gave each other the courtesy of speaking before acting. He’d seen how his own mate was played by Fate and had more reason not to trust the youthful deity.

  But they were at odds over more than his mate. Fate had Sight much deeper than Darkyn’s, which meant the plans the Dark One had been hatching since he first emerged from the bowels of Hell were a matter of record with Fate rather than speculation like they were with the other deities.

  “I may have sensed it,” he allowed. “What is it to you, Fate, if I die-dead here?”

  “Just looking at chains of events. I would like very much for it to stick, for you never to return,” Fate replied. “No chain of events supports that, unfortunately.”

  “Good.”

  “Not good. Some of these chains leave you … and us … worse off.”

  Darkyn spun and began walking once more. The urge to decapitate the deity was unusually strong, a sign of how affected he was by his hunger. Self-control and limitless violence were two of his trademarks. Anywhere else, he’d remind Fate of the latter. Here, his energy was better saved and spent where it was needed, not wasted on Fate.

  “Do you trust her?”

  Fate’s question made him halt once more.

  There were two things Darkyn knew better than the twisted depths of his own soul: one, that he was meant to become the most powerful ruler Hell had ever known. The second: his mate was meant to rule at his side, despite being the opposite of him in every way. Deidre was his, even more so than Hell, their bond unbreakable by any force in the universe. The human with the pure heart and soft voice had started out a novelty, one he hadn’t planned on keeping around. That changed the night the marking of their blood bond appeared on her, when he realized there was something he wanted more than he’d ever wanted Hell.