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He knew the way from here, but he still trailed behind Lagos, grateful for the demon’s presence. Right now, Cyrus needed an ally he could trust. And if there was one person in this realm he trusted to be loyal to Prue, it was Lagos. He was Prue’s advisor, and the first member of her court when she had taken on the role of queen of the realm.
A chill descended on them as they traveled downward, following the staircase to underneath the castle. The vault was just as Cyrus remembered—filled with boxes and crates, furniture covered in white sheets, and various shelves stocked with items imbued with power.
Cyrus’s eyes snagged on the reflection bowl he’d used to search for Kronos. When he was last here, Romanos had been using it to search for a woman he’d met in the mortal realm. He hoped his brother had somehow escaped, though he doubted it. If the castle was the only thing left standing in the Underworld, it most certainly meant everyone—and everything—else was dead.
His father, Aidoneus. Romanos. The rest of his brothers: Marcellus, Leonidas, Evander. Prue’s sister, Mona.
Even Prue herself.
“What is it you’re looking for, my lord?” Lagos asked, facing Cyrus expectantly.
“Just call me Cyrus. It will make things easier.” Cyrus surveyed the darkened chamber, squinting as he searched for what he needed. “It’s an ancient spell book my father acquired from a powerful witch eons ago. The Book of Souls.”
Lagos went very still, his eyes widening. “The—The Book of Souls? But my—Cyrus, I’ve heard legends of this book. Wasn’t it bound to the realm of Elysium?”
Cyrus snorted. “That’s what we wanted everyone to believe. If people knew it was here, they would constantly be searching for it.”
Lagos’s breathing turned sharp. “Such a book is dangerous and deadly. It meddles in the darkest of magic.”
“And it’s precisely that kind of magic we need right now.” Cyrus shot him a meaningful look.
Lagos’s gaze dropped to Prue again, and he nodded tersely. “Very well. I will search for it.”
“It’s bound in black silk,” Cyrus told him, unable to sift through anything with Prue in his arms, and he refused to set her down. He inhaled deeply, trying to scent the power that would no doubt emanate from it.
He smelled nothing but dust.
Then again, the silk bindings probably stifled the dark magic. Which was exactly why it was wrapped up.
Objects shuffled around, and glass jars clinked together as Lagos searched the area. Cyrus paced the length of the opposite end of the chamber, glancing along various shelves for that familiar piece of silk. Then again, he hadn’t seen the book in years. And if Romanos had found this chamber, perhaps his other brothers had, too.
What if one of them had stolen the book?
“Is this it?”
Heart pounding, Cyrus turned to find Lagos lifting a familiar black bundle, raising it for Cyrus to see. The silk was tied together with brown twine, gathered neatly to seal off every part of the book.
Awareness prickled along Cyrus’s skin as he drew closer. Eyes wide, he surveyed the bundle in Lagos’s hands.
“Yes,” he breathed. “That’s it.”
Lagos set the book on a dusty table with a loud thump. The table rattled, and dust particles filled the air. Lagos pulled at the twine to open the bundle.
“Careful,” Cyrus warned. “There are dark powers at play here.”
“I survived Tartarus,” Lagos muttered darkly. “I’ve certainly endured worse.”
Cyrus nodded as guilt wormed into his stomach. Lagos had spent years as an overseer in the deepest, darkest pits of Tartarus.
Because of him.
Shaking the thought from his mind, he watched from a safe distance—afraid the magic would somehow inflict harm on Prue—as Lagos unraveled the bundle.
Dark energy filled the room, swirling dust together in an eerie funnel cloud. Lagos stepped backward, his head thrown back to gaze at the storm of dust that circled around him, growing taller and taller. A low moan thrummed from within the book.
Cyrus held his breath, his chest tightening with unease. Gods, he hated enchanted books. He’d never had good experiences with them.
But he would do this. For Prue.
