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“You are not supposed to be here,” it says.

Instantly, I recognize its voice. It is the voice from the sky; the one that spoke to Eve and Ragnor.

“The Shadow King,” I whisper.

The creature ticks its head to the side for a second time. It has a man’s head, but no distinguishable features. A flat nose, thin lips, eyes which are so sunken they almost don’t exist. Dark gray skin stretches over its cheekbones, pulled taut and almost translucent. The same skin covers its entire body. I can see its heart beating, black inky blood pulsing through its veins. It is both there and not there at the same time. If it wanted to, it could walk right through me.

“I have many names,” it says, moving its gaze to Nico.

“Is this…?” I look around as thunder rumbles through the dark red sky. “Hell?”

The creature snaps its eyes back to mine, then opens its mouth and laughs. Its laughter merges with the thunder and grows louder, shaking the rocks and the ground. When it stops, it says, “This place has many names too.” It takes a step closer and reaches out, dragging a long, pointed fingernail over my bare chest.

I swallow hard. It’s difficult to breathe. I feel as if someone is squeezing my chest, wringing my lungs free of oxygen. The Shadow King studies me for a moment then flings out his arms. As he does, lightning slices through the sky. There’s another clap of thunder and a vibration that I feel deep in my soul, then the rocks start to crumble. They fall, disintegrating into tiny fragments, melting as they drop into the pool of molten blood. I drop to the floor and grab hold of Nico. Then the noise suddenly stops. The rocks and the sky become some kind of hall. Grand, with a flagstone floor, and dim flickering lamps on the walls. The Shadow King stalks away from me then sits down on what looks like a large black throne. Ebony feathers decorate its back. Skulls form columns on either side of it.

The King places his hands on his twisted thighs and inhales deeply. “Bring me the hounds,” he says loudly.

I remain crouched on the ground, clasping Nico’s hand. There’s the sound of a door—large, metal, heavy—being opened. Then a noise that is so familiar it brings tears to my eyes; the baying of wolves. I look quickly from one side of the hall to the other. Large pillars conceal the edges of the room. Only dark shadows are visible, and it is almost impossible to tell which direction the sound is coming from.

Soon, I realize it is impossible because the sound is coming from all directions.

Flashing yellow eyes appear in the darkness. I hear the gnashing of teeth. Growls fill the air. Instinctively, I shift. As a wolf, I at least have a chance of protecting my brother. I stand in front of Nico, snarling. The heckles on my back are raised, and I lower my head ready to pounce.

But what appears from the darkness is not wolves or dogs or anything I recognize.

They are shaped like wolves, and they sound like wolves, but they are not wolves. They are something far, far worse.

A whimper escapes my mouth. I find myself pressing my belly flat to the floor, cowering beside Nico as the beasts approach.

From either side of the hall, they creep into the light. Like The King, they are covered in thin gray skin that allows their bones to protrude at strange angles. They have ears, but they’re pressed flat against their skulls. They have teeth, but their jaws are far larger than any wolf I’ve encountered.

One of them lifts its head and bays at the ceiling. Another joins in. The Shadow King closes his eyes and tilts his head back as if he’s listening to heavenly music.

Soon, at least twenty of the wolf-beasts are sitting in front of the throne. I shift back and stagger to my feet so I can see over their heads.

“We have her scent,” The King booms. “We have her name.”

The beasts howl and yap and bark.

“Find The Phoenix and bring her to The Hollow,” he calls as a quivering image appears in the air beside him.

“Nova,” I breathe.

The King’s eyes flash white as he watches the image. Nova is being carried by Snow. She’s on his back, and they’re running through the forest. Then she’s inside the cabin. The others are there too, and they’re all staring at her as she screams. She starts a fire. Tanner puts it out. She looks broken. Utterly broken.

I shake my head. “No,” I mutter, “no, you can’t.”

But the sound of the King’s beasts drowns out my voice. Saliva drips from their open mouths as they howl at the ceiling. The image changes, shimmering and shifting until it shows The Hollow instead of the cabin. There are no signs of the devastation that took place. The ground is normal, and Eve’s altar is gone. All I can see is the fountain but then Eve appears. She trots down the steps, staring straight ahead.

Can she see us? She moves quickly until she’s so close it’s like she’s on the other side of an open window. She blinks her black-rimmed eyes and raises a hand. She’s holding a dagger; the same one Ragnor used to make Nico bleed.

Lifting her palm, she slices a large deep gash into it then lowers her head and laps at the blood. When she looks up, her lips are stained red. She smiles, then she thrusts her hand forward. It appears above us, larger than it should be, shimmering and not quite there.

Eve’s blood begins to drip from her palm. It splashes onto the floor.

How is she doing this? How is this happening?

“Come, my darling,” she calls. “Set the hellhounds free. Send them to me. Send them to Earth and let them devour her.”