“I come to warn you. We heard your oath in the Otherworld. We know you have pledged to be Death’s Warrior and to become Sword Master of this school.”

“And Leader of the Sons of Erebus,” Kalona added. “Do not forget the rest of my title.”

“I could never forget that you intended to blaspheme my children.”

“Children? Are you mating with humans now and producing males that grow up to be vampyre Warriors? That is fascinating, especially as I was judged so harshly for creating my sons.”

“Walk away.” Erebus’s golden eyes began to glow. “Leave this place and stop meddling in the lives of Nyx’s vampyres and in the lives of the honorable Warriors who have pledged themselves to my service.”

“But are you not meddling by commanding me away? I am surprised Nyx allowed it.”

“My Consort does not know I am here. I came only because you are, again, causing her turmoil. I live to keep turmoil from her. That is the only reason I am here,” Erebus said.

“You live to lick her feet and you are, as always, jealous of me.” Kalona couldn’t help his surge of joy at what Erebus’s words had revealed, I can still make Nyx feel! The Goddess watches me! The immortal reined in his emotions. He must hide his joy from Erebus. When he spoke again, his voice was emotionless. “Know this—I did not swear into your service. I am sworn into the service of a High Priestess who personifies Death through her Goddess-given affinity. All your visit has done is to give me cause to make a clear distinction between those Warriors who call themselves your sons, and those who do not. I will not burden your sons with my leadership.”

“Then you will leave this House of Night,” Erebus said.

“No. But you will. Bear this message to Nyx for me: Death does not differentiate between those who follow her and those who follow other gods. Death comes to all mortals. I do not need your permission, or the Goddess’s, to serve Death. Now, begone, brother. I have a funeral to attend.” Kalona brought his arms forward and slapped his palms together, causing a blast of frigid silver light to shockwave around him, shattering the small Otherworld bubble his brother had created and hurling Erebus up, away, and into the sky.

When the light around him faded, Kalona’s feet once more touched the earth and he was, again, standing beside Nyx’s Temple.

Aphrodite rushed around the corner. Stopped. And stared at him.

“Am I summoned?” he asked.

She blinked and rubbed her eyes, as if she was having trouble clearing her vision. “Were you messing around with a flashlight over here?”

“I own no flashlight. Am I summoned?” he repeated.

“Almost. Some moron, meaning Kramisha because she was in charge of candle collection, forgot the spirit candle. I need to grab one from Nyx’s Temple. You’re supposed to follow me back to Dragon’s pyre. Thanatos will finish the circle, say some nice stuff about Dragon, and then introduce you.”

Feeling oddly uncomfortable under the gaze of the strange, abrasive human Nyx had, for reasons unfathomable to almost everyone, Chosen as her Prophetess, Kalona grunted a wordless response, and turned to open the side door to the temple.

It would not open.

Kalona tried again.

He strained, using all of his vast immortal strength.

It absolutely would not open.

It was then that he noticed the wooden door had disappeared. The handle protruded from thick, solid stone. There was no entryway. Nothing.

Suddenly Aphrodite was pushing him aside. She grabbed the handle, pulled it, and the stone faded, becoming a wooden door again, which opened easily for her. She glanced up at him before she stepped over the threshold of the Goddess’s temple. “You are so fucking weird.” She tossed her hair and went inside.

The door closed behind her. Kalona pressed his hand against it and, under his palm, it shivered and turned from welcoming wood to stone.

He backed away, feeling a horrible sinking within him.

It was only a few minutes later that Aphrodite emerged through a completely normal-looking door. She was holding a thick purple pillar candle and as she strode past him she said, “Well, come on. Thanatos wants you to stand at the edge of the circle and try not to look conspicuous. Though, you know, that would be a lot easier if you wore more clothes.”

Kalona followed her, trying to ignore the empty place inside him. He was exactly what Erebus had named him, impetuous fool and usurper. If Nyx had been watching him, it was with nothing except disdain. She denied him everything—entrance to the Otherworld, entrance to her Temple, entrance to her heart …

Centuries should have lessened his pain, but Kalona was beginning to understand that the opposite was true.

Aurox

Nyx, if you are, indeed, a forgiving goddess, please help me … please …

Aurox didn’t flee from his earthen hiding place. Instead he repeated that one sentence, that one prayer, over and over. Perhaps Nyx rewarded diligence. At least he could offer the Goddess that.

It was during the litany of his silent prayer that the magick began to swirl around him. At first Aurox’s spirit leapt. Nyx heard me! It only took moments to realize how wrong he’d been. The creatures that materialized, oozing from the cool, dank air around him, could not be in the service of a forgiving goddess.

Aurox cringed away from them. Their stench was almost unbearable. Their sightless faces horrible to gaze upon. His heartbeat increased. Fear shivered through him and the beast inside him stirred. Had these things been sent to him as judgment for the deeds he had committed in Neferet’s service? Aurox used his own fear and began feeding the beast within him. He did not want it to awaken, but he would fight before he succumbed to the swirling mass of malevolence that threatened to envelop him.

Yet, Aurox was not enveloped. Slowly, the creatures climbed upward, riding in a magickal whirlpool. The higher they arose from the pit, the faster they moved. It seemed as if they had been summoned and were gradually awakening to a soundless call.

Aurox quieted his fear and the beast within him subsided. They did not want him. They paid him no attention whatsoever. The tail of the cylinder was trailing a black, fetid mist. Not sure what compelled him, Aurox reached out and brushed his hand through it.

His hand became the mist, like they were formed of the same substance. The whirlpool felt like nothing, yet it appeared to have dissolved Aurox’s flesh. Wide-eyed, he tried to pull his hand free, but it was gone. He had no hand, and then a shudder went through him as the mist began to absorb his flesh. Helplessly, Aurox watched his forearm disappear, then his bicep, then his shoulder. He tried to awaken the beast—to tap into the power that slumbered within him, but the mist buffered his feelings. It numbed him as it drew him. When it absorbed his head Aurox became the mist. He felt nothing except a vast longing—an unfulfilled seeking—an unrelenting need. For what? Aurox could not tell. All he knew was that the Darkness had engulfed him and was carrying him on a tide of despair.

There must be more to me than this! he thought frantically. I have to be more than mist and longing, darkness and a beast! But it seemed he was no more than those things. Despair overwhelmed him as he realized the truth. He was all of those things and none of those things. Aurox was nothing … nothing at all …

Aurox thought the retching sound might be his own. Somewhere, somehow, his body must still be his and it was revolted by what was happening. Then he saw her.

Zoey was there. She held the white stone in front of her. Just like she had the night before, at the ritual where he had tried to make a choice—tried to do the right thing.

He felt the mist shift. It, too, saw Zoey.