They found a quiet corner table near a stained-glass window that shimmered with ghostlight—soft purples, eerie blues, and curling symbols in silver lead. The book Cinder carried trembled slightly in her hands, heavy with enchantments and stitched together with grave-spun thread.

Miles leaned over her shoulder, peering at the curling calligraphy.

“You can read this?” he asked, half-impressed, half-baffled. “It looks like someone spilled ink on a spider web.”

Cinder giggled. “It’s Old Underling. My dad made me learn it.”

Leona drifted in behind them like perfume, setting down a matching pink notebook with a delighted hum. “You’re both adorable. Mind if I assist? Soul-link theory is terribly outdated in the school books, and I simply can’t resist a good forbidden ritual.”

Willow flopped into the seat across from Miles, stretching her arms with a groan. “Uggghh, how long is this gonna take? Reading makes my fur itchy.”

“You never read anything anyway,” Cinder teased.

“Exactly. It's why I'm so fast,” Willow grinned, flashing sharp teeth. “No mental clutter.”

Leonis stood silently nearby, eyes scanning the room, then the pages, then Miles. Always watching.

As they flipped through the ancient book together, Cinder’s brow furrowed, eyes dancing across glowing glyphs.

“…Here,” she whispered, pointing. “Soul-links can be restored fully—but only through a relic ritual.”

Leona leaned in. “Oooh, relic-class magic. You’ll need rare reagents, no doubt. Hair from a phoenix, the tear of a banshee… something annoyingly symbolic?”

Cinder nodded slowly, mouth tightening. “A aura violet.”

Willow’s ears perked. “What now?”

“They’re plants,” Cinder explained. “Flowers that bloom once every hundred years. They only grow in grave-dense soil, and they take forever to cultivate.”

“And they’re the only way to make this work?” Miles asked, voice hopeful but cautious.

“I think so.” She hesitated. “But I’d need permission from Underworld Management to use one… and that’s if I can even find a live bloom. They're rare.”

Leona tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I might know a collector. But first things first—you’d best not get in trouble again. You only just got out of your dad’s lecture chamber.”

Cinder stood, carefully closing the book. “I’ll go talk to him. You—” she turned to Miles, a bit more softly, “—stay put, okay?”

Willow stretched again, cracking her knuckles. “Or—and hear me out—he could get a grand tour of the city. Right, Leonis?”

Leonis blinked once, her voice flat. “Better than waiting.”

Miles perked up. “Wait, seriously? I get to see the Underworld? Like... the actual Underworld?”

“Full VIP chaos access,” Willow grinned.

“Within reason,” Leona added sweetly, smoothing her skirts.

Cinder hesitated, but the look on Miles’ face—pure, glowing excitement—was impossible to resist.

“…Okay. But be careful. Don’t let him get possessed. Or turned into a frog.”

Willow already had him by the arm. “No promises!”

Miles gave her a comical salute as they dragged him away. “Tell management I’m on vacation!”

Cinder watched them go with a fond, if slightly worried, look—then turned, the soul-link book tucked under one arm.

She had hope now. But it would come at a cost.

And she wasn’t sure the Underworld would let her pay it easily.

The path sloped downward, the stone beneath their feet shifting from pale marble to something darker—glimmering obsidian streaked with veins of silver. The sky above dulled, stars swallowed by mist. The only light came from the gate ahead: towering spires twisted into a skeletal arch, guarded by two massive statues—reapers with hollow eyes and blades instead of wings.

Miles slowed as they neared. His smile faltered.

“Uh… guys?”

Cinder glanced back. “You okay?”

He rubbed his arms, shivering despite the lack of wind. “It feels like... I’m being pushed out. Like I’m not supposed to be here.”

Leonis didn't turn around. “You aren’t.”

Willow elbowed her.

Miles stared at the gate. His skin prickled, pressure tightening in his chest. His fingers trembled. Every instinct screamed turn back. The world beyond the arch felt heavier—like it didn’t want him.

He thought of Cinder’s smile.

The way she always waved with both hands.
The little snort when she laughed too hard.
The way she hugged her arms when she was scared, even if she pretended to be fine.

And just like that—something shifted.

The pressure cracked, like glass under heat. The statues' blades lowered. The gate opened.

A wind swept through, whispering like voices underwater.

Willow let out a low whistle. “Alright, chosen one. Creepy pass accepted.”

Leona raised an eyebrow at Miles. “That... shouldn’t have worked.”

He swallowed, stepping across the threshold. “Guess I’m just stubborn.”

The city unfolded like a secret spoken aloud.

Sprawling towers of black stone spiraled upward, trimmed in silver and gold. Archways curved like bones over glowing aqueducts of blue flame. Streets were paved with dark marble, flickering with strange runes that pulsed beneath Miles' feet like the city was breathing.

Temples stood tall—Roman in structure, but twisted. Colonnades of ivory and horn. Spires like thorned crowns. Floating chariots glided through the sky on trails of starlight. Shadows had shape here. And some watched back.

Miles gawked. “Okay. This is... insane. Like, video game final level meets vampire Pinterest board.”

Willow cackled. “Welcome to Tărâmul Celălalt, babe.”

A group of soul merchants floated past on a platform of chained lanterns. A flaming cat purred at a statue’s feet. A bard with six arms played a harp made of bones.

Leona whispered, “Even now, it’s beautiful.”

Leonis finally spoke. “It’s a lie. Beauty here is just illusion stitched over death.”

Miles glanced at her. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just home for people who don’t get one anywhere else.”

Leonis didn’t respond.

But for a moment, she didn’t look angry—just tired.

They strolled through a lower plaza where obsidian stone gave way to pale ashbrick—softer, warmer, with planters full of glowmoss and spirit orchids. Small spirit-birds with translucent feathers flitted through the air, chirping like windchimes.

Laughter rang out from a nearby fountain.

Miles turned his head—and blinked.

A small demon child with curling red horns and coal-black eyes was playing tag with a pair of angelic children. Their skin shimmered pearl-white, with faint golden freckles. One had flowing gold hair, the other bright sky-blue. Delicate golden wings fluttered behind them as they ran.

They all laughed together. Pure, simple joy.

Miles smiled. “Huh… That’s kinda sweet.”

Then he noticed Leonis.

She had stopped walking. Her gaze locked on the angel children. Her lips pressed into a tight line—not angry. Just… strained. Miles couldn’t quite place it.

“What’s an angel doing here?” he asked, gently.

Leona, walking ahead, answered without missing a step. “They can come and go as they please. It’s not like the old days, when we all stayed apart. Times have changed.”

Willow popped a piece of spiced bonefruit into her mouth, chewing lazily. “Mmm—times definitely changed. Gotta admit, these angel-run food stalls? Slap.” She licked her claws. “Just wish we didn’t have to walk on eggshells every time we talk to them.”

“They’re sensitive,” Leona said mildly.

Willow rolled her eyes. “They glow, Leona. If I call someone ‘pretty’ they act like I challenged their god.”

Leonis finally spoke, voice flat. “Then don’t speak.”

Willow snorted. “Yikes. Lighten up.”

Miles gave Leonis a curious glance. “You okay?”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Just remembering.”

And then she turned away, walking ahead.

Miles frowned.

Not anger.
Not sadness.
That looked like... grief.