Erevos knew it sounded odd, even for a collector like Rolam, but he did not flinch or offer an explanation either.
No one knew he was keeping a human, and no one would believe it was even possible. Mortals did not survive in The Void. There was no oxygen for them to breathe, and even if there were, demons did not protect humans—they fed on their emotions. That was the order of things.
And yet.
He nodded once more to the puzzled trader, who studied him with hollow eyes. Rolam turned away without further comment and wandered through his collection, running long fingers over vials and jars and shadow-wrapped containers, until his gaze landed on a small, bone-colored box.
Erevos noticed traces of another presence near the cave he had chosen for his human, traces that were not his own, which made them all the more troubling. He had made certain to leave no evidence of his passage, not even a whisper of scent that might linger in the dark. There should have been no reason for another demon to follow him, no cause for any creature to inspect a cave that bore the scent of ownership. In The Void, there were many caves, each available to whoever had the power to keep them, so the fact that someone had come near this one made no sense at all.
And so, he rushed.
He descended deep into the winding corridors of shadow, navigating through countless entrances branching in different directions, until he finally arrived at the chamber he had shaped where his little songbird waited. The bone-colored box was cradled in his shadow as he stepped into the perimeter of his crafted haven, and without hesitation, he merged with the shadowed walls.
“Lyssena?” he called, echoing through the dim chamber.
He did not see her, but he felt her scent that was laced with fear. He followed the pull of her presence and paused when his gaze landed on the bed, but something was wrong.
Erevos detached from the walls, allowing his form to build itself piece by piece—legs forming first, long and stable, then his torso, arms, shoulders, and at last, his head. He placed the box upon the desk, though even that looked wrong now—different from the one he had crafted for her. He turned to the bed, which no longer looked quite like the bed he had shaped, and when he lifted it, he found her.
His little human was curled beneath it, trembling, her breath uneven. She had surrounded herself with items, shadows, and remnants twisted into weapons, and on her head sat a crown made of his shadow.
Erevos had not expected this.
Not the fear or the fortress, which was a surprise as well, but the armored queen beneath the bed.
Chapter Nine
To Look Upon a God
Lyssena
After Lyssena asked the bed to become a place to hide, it did. At some point, she stopped gasping in awe each time the shadows obeyed her. She began to accept it, to expect it, to use it for her own need.
The chair had become a weapon, a bat heavy enough to steady her grip but not too heavy to wield. The bed had folded itself into a hollow haven. The desk had shifted, grown broad and curved, becoming a shield between her and the unknown.
The room no longer looked like the one Erevos had created.
“Songbird?”
Before she could register that it was Erevos speaking, she let out a scream. As the sound tore from her throat, her crown tumbled from her head, falling onto the dark floor. Her heart slammed against her ribs with such force she thought she might simply die right there beneath the bed that was not a bed anymore, surrounded by weapons of her own making.
But then the shadows deepened. The darkness around her grew darker, denser, as if it recognized him before she did. Slowly, she lifted her head by instinct, and then she remembered she wasn’t supposed to look directly at a god. Or at a male at that.
Her gaze dropped again, her body folding smaller in apology.
Erevos knelt before her, and she saw his knee—black as the void itself—press against the floor. Everything seemed darker, as though his presence made the shadows real again. When her crown had fallen, she’d heard it strike something hard, a sound that surprised her. The floor had softened in his absence, like everything else. But now that he was here, the room remembered what it was supposed to be.
A long minute passed in silence, and slowly, her heart settled back into rhythm. It no longer drowned out her thoughts.
Because her god had returned, and if Erevos was here, then surely, surely everything would be fine.
He picked up the crown from the floor, rubbed it gently between his fingers, and, without a word, placed it back on her head.
“Why were you so scared?” he asked.
His voice was very kind, and Lyssena, in that moment, wondered if this was a test—a test of faith, of truth. Because Erevos was a god, was he not? He must have already known the answer. Gods knew everything. They knew so much that humans would’ve never comprehended the vastness of their greatness.
Perhaps he was testing her honesty, or her loyalty. Either way, she saw no reason to lie.
