The Miasma Tunnel was nothing like Eliza had expected.

  She had pictured something eerie and vast, a dark abyss swallowing all who dared pass through. Instead, what she saw was chaotic motion, a realm teeming with reckless energy.

  Dozens of carriages surged through the shifting darkness, weaving around each other like wraiths in a never-ending race. Some soared through the air as if propelled by unseen forces, others narrowly dodged nightmarish creatures that slithered and clawed at their barriers.

  Eliza’s breath hitched.

  “Are they… racing?”

  Opal pressed against the window, her young eyes wide with amazement. She gasped as a pair of shadowy stallions pulled an obsidian carriage forward in a sudden, unnatural burst of speed, darting through a collapsing section of the tunnel with terrifying precision.

  “This place is called The Tunnel,” Tenebrae said evenly, his gaze fixed ahead. “Why? I am unsure. Perhaps it once was one, or perhaps it still is. It is hard to tell. No one who steps foot outside of their protection has survived long enough to say."

  Eliza turned to him, brow furrowing. “First time I’ve seen you this careful… Can a Lich die?”

  Tenebrae’s eerie green eyes flickered as he regarded her.

  “Being trapped here is separation from life,” he answered after a pause. “But it is also separation from my kingdom. I would rather die than become lost in this place. That would be worse than the hell your people put me through.”

  Eliza flinched.

  It wasn’t the sharpness of his tone—it was how calmly he had said it. As if it was simply a fact.

  She lowered her gaze, hands twisting in her lap, a heavy weight settling over her chest.

  And for the first time… Tenebrae regretted his words.

  Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in centuries.

  He hadn’t meant to say it like that.

  Hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  He exhaled sharply, annoyed—not at her, but at himself.

  Since regaining his flesh, emotions had returned to him like an open wound. They were distracting, and overwhelming. Even as a Lich, he had learned to silence them, but now?

  Now they bled through every inch of him—everywhere but his skeletal hand.

  It was the only part of him that had remained untouched by time. Cold, lifeless, unfeeling.

  It was the only thing keeping him grounded.

  For several moments, the carriage was silent.

  Opal, oblivious to the tension, was still staring out the window, fascinated by the chaos beyond.

  Eliza, however, looked down like a scolded child.

  And Ten… Ten felt like an ass.

  He drummed his fingers once against the armrest, forcing himself to push past the tangled mess in his mind.

  She asked a question. Answer it.

  “We are going to visit a friend of mine,” he said finally, his voice softer than before.

  Eliza glanced up. “A friend?”

  Ten nodded. “The King of Ravens."

  Her brows furrowed. “Is he an actual raven?”

  He smirked slightly at that, the flicker of amusement brief. “When he wants to be. He can be. When he wants to look like you, he can. But he is not human. Not anymore. At one time, though… he was."

  She tilted her head. “What are we visiting him for?”

  Tenebrae paused for a moment before answering, carefully choosing his words.

  “We are going as uninvited guests to deliver a message I could not trust his subjects with, considering how long I have been gone.”

  Eliza studied him, sensing something more beneath his words.

  “What kind of person is he?”

  Tenebrae hesitated.

  “He is… or rather, was, at the time, my closest friend,” he admitted. “And for a Lich, that is nearly an impossible task. When you change, when you embrace undeath, friendship becomes a luxury."

  Eliza remained silent, watching him.

  “We were friends before I became a Lich,” Ten continued. “We grew up together. Much of my afterlife was spent fighting alongside him, raiding realms, carving our names into history."

  For the first time, his lips curved into something close to a smile.

  Fondness.

  It was strange to see it on him, but there it was, however brief.

  “But…” he trailed off.

  Eliza caught the shift immediately. “But?”

  He exhaled.

  “I haven’t seen him in over 100 years."

  Silence.

  Opal turned her wide, uncertain gaze toward him, watching the way his expression darkened.

  Ten’s fingers drummed against the armrest again.

  “Because of your people,” he said finally, not cruelly, but simply as a fact.

  Eliza felt the guilt hit her like a hammer.

  She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

  And Ten felt it.

  He hated this.

  Hated feeling this.

  The frustration in his chest curled tighter, spreading like slow poison.

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  He should not care.

  He was a Lich.

  Liches do not care.

  And yet…

  Yet he did.

  His voice was quieter when he spoke again.

  “The point of this trip is to respond to an old message that was sent long ago… and to see if I still have a friend after all this time.”

  Opal clung a little closer to Eliza, her small fingers curling into her gown.

  She had only ever heard stories of Liches and their unholy powers.

  And now, sitting beside one, she wasn’t sure what to think.

  She tried not to show her fear.

  But Ten knew.

  He always knew.

  He simply leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes, and let the tunnel carry them forward into the abyss.

  The silence in the carriage was deafening, stretching long and heavy like an unspoken curse.

  It was only broken by the sudden crackle of a message spell.

  “We are at the halfway point, sir,” came Zanac’s formal, yet hesitant voice. “Should we request an escort?”

  Tenebrae didn’t move, his gaze still fixed on the swirling darkness outside.

  “No,” he said. “Last time we did that, it attracted more attention than I desired. I will use the previous summons to enter unannounced. That should summon me directly into his court—if I am not mistaken.”

  A pause.

  Then, Zanac’s voice returned, more cautious this time.

  “Sir… is that wise with your… current condition?”

  Eliza glanced at Tenebrae, catching the smallest shift in his expression.

  Something sharp. Something almost dangerous.

  “Zanac.”

  The butler fell silent.

  “Do not mention that again. Return to your duty.”

  A beat. Then— “Yes… yes, sir,” Zanac said reluctantly.

  Eliza swallowed.

  There was tension here. Something unsaid.

  She didn’t like not knowing.

  So, after a moment, she hesitantly asked, “What kind of man is your friend? Or—person? I… I suppose I know nothing of him.”

  She paused, fidgeting with the fabric of her gown.

  “All this time,” she continued, “I’ve never heard you mention a friend. I kind of thought that… well… other than those I’ve met, and the few animals that remain in your kingdom, that you never really—”

  She trailed off.

  Because he was staring at her.

  His green eyes glowed faintly, unreadable in the dim carriage.

  Eliza felt her face heat. Why am I babbling? she scolded herself. Why am I making this awkward?

  She clamped her mouth shut, feeling stupid.

  Tenebrae, however, did not look away.

  Instead, he sat back in his seat, considering her.

  She is unlike the humans of this realm… he thought.

  In many ways, she resembled more of a hero, full of foolish courage and stubborn resilience.

  And yet, in her world, she had been a failure.

  What had she called herself? A loser?

  It was absurd.

  She was a contradiction—weak, yet strong.

  How does the bravest of their world get beaten into such a submissive kitten?

  The thought irritated him more than he expected.

  Perhaps I should find a way to void our pact…

  But then again…

  No.

  No, he would give her a chance.

  She may yet surprise him.

  Especially if she was going to be his queen one day.

  “There is a reason I asked for you both to come,” Tenebrae finally said, his voice shifting from thoughtful to commanding.

  He gestured toward Opal, who had been clinging tightly to Eliza’s side.

  “I would like her to see something with her own eyes—something more than ruin.”

  The young Udine girl flinched at the movement of his skeletal hand, and Ten immediately withdrew it.

  Damn it…

  He clenched his fingers into a fist, silently scolding himself. He had frightened her again.

  He took a slow breath before speaking.

  “My best friend,” he began, “was born paralyzed.”

  Eliza blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession.

  “He was unable to move physically,” Ten continued, his tone neutral but distant. “But that never bothered me. He eventually learned to crawl, but that was not ideal for his race, nor for the kingdom he was born into.”

  He paused as if sifting through ancient memories.

  “As we grew, he found a way to change his race. The one he chose was… beautiful if you ask me. But even then, he remained paralyzed.

  “That was when we discovered he was cursed. An unbreakable demon’s curse, bound to him since birth.”

  A faint glow flickered behind Ten’s eyes.

  “Unbreakable—to date."

  Eliza swallowed, unsure how to respond.

  After a moment, she simply asked, “Do you intend to break it?”

  Ten didn’t hesitate.

  “If he ever asked me to find a way, I would,” he said. “I would do anything for him… and I know he would do the same for me.”

  But then, he went silent.

  And when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

  “But that was… a very long time ago. For him. But not for me.”

  A heavy weight settled in the carriage.

  “I am not sure how long your people held me,” Ten said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But the time that has passed here…”

  His fingers twitched slightly.

  “It has been punishing."

  He looked out the window, watching the eerie glow of the tunnel flicker against the carriage’s protective wards.

  “And it may have cost me the last thing—the last person—from my past that I could still hold onto.”

  Eliza felt a deep, aching sadness in his words.

  She sank back into her seat, feeling the heaviness of it all settle over her.

  She had thought of Tenebrae as untouchable. Unbreakable.

  But here, at this moment, she saw something else.

  Something fragile.

  After a long silence, she shifted, forcing a small smile.

  “What is this summons thing you mentioned earlier?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

  Tenebrae glanced at her before answering.

  “It is a form of invitation,” he explained. “One that allows a foreign kingdom to enter another’s domain without triggering alarm spells or defensive wards."

  Eliza nodded, absorbing the information.

  “Of all the things we went through together, it eventually dawned on me that the one thing that meant the most to him was being treated the same.”

  His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet.

  “He often had to work twice as hard just to get a fraction of the praise I did. And I was not blind to this. It… pissed me off. And to this day, it still does.”

  Eliza watched him carefully, sensing the anger, the frustration, but also the deep, unwavering respect.

  “But I won’t pity my friend. He would hate me for it.”

  He clenched his skeletal fingers, exhaling slowly.

  “I promised him I would always treat him as he was—my best friend. And not…”

  He faltered.

  Something shifted in his eyes, something dark, as memories clawed their way back—memories of his weakness, his humiliation.

  The experiments. The pain.

  The way the humans mocked him, spat on him.

  They had called him names. Treated him like less than nothing.

  And though his friend had never experienced that kind of torment, Tenebrae knew.

  He knew the look of pity.

  He knew how much it could wound.

  And he refused—he would never—do that to the one person who had ever stood at his side.

  “I refuse to treat him as if he were… a cripple.”

  The words were cold, but Eliza felt something in them that wasn’t cruelty.

  It was pain.

  She didn’t know why, but she ached for him.

  For the first time, she wanted to comfort him. A hug, a touch—something.

  But she didn’t know how.

  The silence stretched, lingering long after the words had faded.

  The ride continued for another hour before Ten finally shifted, raising a hand.

  The summoning ritual activated.

  The horses responded immediately, their glowing green eyes flaring as the magic carved symbols into the air, forming an intricate circle of void-dark glyphs.

  Then, the carriage lurched.

  Reality bent.

  And they were no longer in the tunnel.

  They emerged from the void, the shift in reality marked by a sudden, deafening silence.

  Then, the whispers began.

  Low. Hushed. Crawling through the air like unseen fingers brushing against the skin, weaving between the towering spires of obsidian and bone that stretched toward the heavens in a chaotic, jagged embrace.

  Above them, the moon hung monstrous and red, swollen like an open wound, casting the entire kingdom in a glow that shimmered between beauty and menace.

  The air was alive.

  Not in the way a forest hums with life or the way a city breathes with motion. No, this was different—this was the hush of the dead lingering in unseen spaces, whispering their secrets into the endless wind.

  The palace of Nevermore loomed ahead, an imposing structure woven from darkness itself. Veins of pale silver traced its foundations, an eerie glow pulsing through them like the slow, deliberate beat of a heart long stopped.

  And in its skies—

  Ravens.

  Hundreds. Thousands.

  They filled the air in a living tide, black wings cutting against the crimson light, their cries echoing through the hollow expanse. Some perched upon the spiraling towers, their eyes glowing like embers in the dark. Others circled, watching, waiting.

  But the largest among them were not mere birds.

  They were mounts.

  Great, towering ravens—their wingspans wide enough to cast shadows over entire courtyards—stood alongside armored figures clad in midnight-plated steel. Their riders sat motionless, their faces obscured beneath the glint of blackened helms, silent sentinels in a kingdom of ghosts.

  Then, as the carriage fully materialized—

  The sigils of the summoning circle flared, a pulse of deep indigo and black, before fading into the stone.

  Stillness.

  And then, movement.

  The gates of the palace groaned open, and the figures surrounding them tensed.

  Some stared at Tenebrae in shock, their glowing eyes widening in disbelief. Others turned to one another, whispering in hushed, frantic tones.

  A few broke away, disappearing into the palace—rushing to deliver the news.

  Tenebrae sighed, stepping out of the carriage.

  “Tch. Louder than intended.”

  Zanac chuckled, adjusting his coat as he stepped down beside him.

  “It appears you have made quite the entrance, little master.”

  Ten shot him a glare before turning to the gathering soldiers.

  They did not raise their weapons.

  But they watched him.

  Like wolves deciding whether or not to bare their fangs.