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His knowledge of the Underworld told him a portal needed to be fueled with a powerful source of magic in order to be activated.
But he couldn’t use his magic here. The one time he’d tried, he had blacked out again. Conjuring his death magic was the surest way to bring the darkness back.
And he couldn’t risk it.
Despair crashed through him, and he sank to his knees in utter hopelessness. He slammed his fists against the ground once, twice, three times, not caring when his skin split and blood trickled down his palms.
It was no use. Even if he could find a source of magic powerful enough to open the portal back up, the darkness would take him before he could go through. This was the longest stretch of time he’d been awake, and he knew it wouldn’t last much longer.
Sobs wracked through him, and he hung his head and wept.
He would be like this for the rest of eternity. He would succumb to the darkness again and again until it took him fully. Until he was nothing more than an empty shell being controlled by someone else.
He inhaled as tears streamed down his face.
Then it hit him. A whiff of something so fragrant and familiar that for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it.
Mona.
Roses and parchment and the sea…
Gods, it felt like she was right next to him.
He blinked tears from his eyes, looking up, not daring to hope that she could be here, that she had somehow followed him to Elysium.
“Mona?” he rasped. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, his voice crackly from dehydration and disuse.
He sniffed again, and he sensed Typhon stirring within him, called forth by the primal nature of his senses. Typhon was the better tracker, but he had been dormant for days now. He was much harder to awaken than Evander himself because the powers of Elysium kept smothering his demonic nature.
But Mona… Mona had always been able to reach Typhon, even when Evander couldn’t.
Mona, Typhon rumbled within him.
“Yes,” Evander said hoarsely, rising to his feet. “She’s here, Typhon. We must find her.”
And then a familiar, haunting melody flowed in the air.
Evander went perfectly still as the song surrounded him like an embrace, reminding him of a sparkling river, a lush forest, and a pair of emerald green eyes.
His mouth turned dry, and his heart slammed against his ribcage. Every ounce of his awareness homed in on the sound of that melody.
“Mona,” Evander whispered.
He stepped forward, intent on following the melody like a bloodhound would track a scent….
Until Mona’s scream cut through the air.
Evander’s blood ran cold, his spine rigid as horror washed over him.
“Evander!” she shrieked. “Evander, where are you?” Her voice was full of panic and terror and desperation.
“Mona!” Evander roared, breaking into a run. Renewed energy burned through him, laced with urgency and pure terror.
She was in trouble. He had to get to her. He had to save her.
Mona! Typhon cried out.
Only then did Evander recognize the crazed hysteria in Typhon’s voice. It intensified, growing and morphing into something else, something foreign and dark and powerful.
