The hair rose on the back of Ursula’s neck. “Can you at least tell me who I’m meeting? Is it Nyxobas? Or Abrax?”
Cera frowned. “I’m not at liberty to say. He’s a lord. I’m not allowed to call him by any other name, and I’m certainly not going to defy him. Everyone here knows their place, and if you’re smart, you will, too. Your life depends entirely on the lord.” The little demon backed down the stairs, her milky skin a shade paler than normal. “You’re going to be late. You need to go.”
Ursula folded her arms, reluctant to plunge into the dark hall without knowing what she was getting into.
She watched Cera hurry across the tile, turning to Ursula one last time before pulling open the door. “Good luck.” She disappeared through the door, leaving Ursula entirely alone.
Cold dread bloomed in Ursula’s chest. Well, it’s not like I can run away from whoever this lord is. She was going to be in the Shadow Realm for six months, living in his house. She was going to meet him one way or another. She turned, taking a tentative step into the tunnel. Candles flickered in sconces, their dim light wavering over rocky walls. The tunnel seemed to be carved from a cliff of the moon crater itself.
Hugging herself, Ursula strained her ears for any sound, but she heard only deathly silence.
She walked further into the hall, trying to soften her footsteps on the smooth stone as much as possible. She considered pulling the corkscrew from her knickers, but decided against it. It was too big to hide in her palm, and clearly showing up armed to meet “the lord” would be a major breach of protocol. Still, the bulky feel of sharp metal in her thong was oddly reassuring—a thought she’d never before imagined would cross her mind.
Of course, she never imagined she’d be going to meet a demon on the moon, before.
Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she made her way deeper into the tunnel. Unlike the hard lines and cold steel of the exterior rooms, this part of the manor seemed ancient. Twisting patterns and faded runes adorned the jagged walls. The light changed subtly as she walked, and she glanced down. The illumination no longer came from candles. Instead, glowing mushrooms grew along the floor’s edge, and the tarry creosote smell gave way to something earthy and alive.
Ahead of her, the tunnel opened into a large chamber, and a path curved between gray boulders. As she stepped into the hall, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t so much a chamber as a vast cavern. Huge stalactites hung from the ceiling, their surfaces encrusted with glowing mushrooms.
The path led through the cavern to a thin, stone bridge suspended between two cliffs. No rails, no sides. Just a narrow strip of stone over a vast chasm. Tentatively, she approached the edge. She stepped onto the bridge, her gaze briefly flicking to the stark blackness, the sheer rocky drop into a bottomless abyss.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Maybe this is why Cera wanted to stay behind.
A cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and she took another step forward in her tall heels. No turning back now. A deathly silence hung in the air, broken only by the clacking of her stupid heels over the stone.
If there had ever been a time for running shoes, it was now.
She pulled her gaze away from the abyss, glancing at the ceiling. Bioluminescent mushrooms nestled among glowing indigo crystals. The fungi light refracted through the crystals, bathing the bridge in an otherworldly violet light.
She glanced at the bridge again, so she wouldn’t lose her footing, and her gaze trailed to the abyss. The darkness seemed to beckon her forward, luring her off the bridge. Her stomach swooped, and a strange sort of terror bloomed in the back of her mind. She wasn’t afraid she would fall.
She was afraid she would jump.
She blinked, clearing the disturbing thought from her head. I’ll face forward then, won’t I? A few more careful steps, staring straight ahead, and she cleared the final bit of the bridge, stepping onto a rocky platform. The temperature in this cavern seemed ten degrees cooler than the rest of the hall. She crossed her arms in front of her. She didn’t need “the lord” seeing just how cold she was.
After a few more paces, she paused, her heart skipping a beat.
At the far end sat a figure in a jet-black throne, cloaked in shadows.
Night magic curled in front of the lord’s features, moving like seaweed caught in an invisible current. He exuded power. And pure menace. Here, in front of the lord, the void called to her. That vast abyss, just a few steps away, beckoned her closer, tempting her to jump.
This was no simple demon’s power. This was a god, ancient and wrathful. Nyxobas.
It had been a mistake to come here. As if a corkscrew could protect her from this dark hell.