Eva followed the Furies through the small village at the foot of the castle. The people looked broken—like they had once set out on a purpose and failed and now couldn’t bear the weight of what that failure had cost.
Perry walked beside her in silence—offering neither his hand nor his arm. She was grateful for that. Something in his bearing radiated quiet confidence… in the Author, perhaps. She was grateful for that too. There was no fighting the Furies. No escape. But with him here, it felt… bearable.
A stairway was carved into the stone of the hill. At its summit, the massive portcullis stood open—waiting to devour them.
In the courtyard, Tisiphone turned to face Eva, her sisters slipping into shadow. The folds of her robe drank what little light remained. Her gaunt face was lined with age—but there was nothing fragile in it. This was the face of punishment that neither forgets nor forgives.
In her hands, she cradled a human skull, her fingers resting against its teeth like punctuation. Her expression revealed nothing—neither rage nor grief—but the cold finality of one who passes sentence without appeal.
Tisiphone’s deep-set eyes did not blink—they only weighed. Eva couldn’t look away. They pulled at her, drawing her inward. And when she blinked, she was no longer in the courtyard. She was back in the Dark-Lands.
Vee sat upright in the bed she shared with her older sister. She was already gone. The other bed was empty too—both had risen with the sun and gone to work in the fields.
She packed quickly—some bread, her notebook, all she had. Her hand reached for the curtain that separated the sisters from where her mother and father slept… but then she paused.
She knelt and pulled a small box from beneath her sister’s bed, rummaging through its scraps and broken combs. Her fingers found a pale blue satin ribbon—frayed at the ends, just wide enough to tie back her hair. Her sister wouldn’t miss it. But she didn’t tie her hair. She slipped it in her pocket.
Vee’s mother stood next to the stove, her back to her, stirring the pot slow and steady—just as always. Her hands were stained and cracked; nails worn down to the beds. Nothing like Vee’s own.
She wanted to say, There’s more to me than this. Or, I have to find out who I am. She was Evadne. Not Vee. Not Vadna. She had rehearsed it. But in the silence, the words wouldn’t come. She simply opened the door, stepped outside, and let it close behind her. It was the softest sound she’d ever heard—yet somehow, it still echoed.
She started toward the inn where the trader was staying—but Tisiphone stepped into her path. She said nothing. But the silence demanded an answer.
Eva had no excuse. She lowered her head. “I hurt them, leaving like that,” she said softly.
Eva blinked—and she was back in Beelzebub’s Castle. Tisiphone was gone. Alecto and Megaera stood before her, waiting.
–
Alecto led them deeper into the castle’s labyrinth—dim corridors where torchlight flickered against cold, dark stone. Then, without warning, she stopped and turned. Her eyes were no longer molten bronze but deep impenetrable voids. Ragged wings unfurled behind her. A whip coiled in one hand. She stepped forward, seized Eva by the hair, and yanked her close.
Eva uncurled her fist and slapped Alecto—hard. But Alecto didn’t flinch.
She blinked. It wasn’t Alecto she’d slapped—it was another aspirant at the boarding house in Carnal Policy. Evadne twisted, trying to wrench free from the grip in her hair. Bitch. She thought it, but didn’t dare say it.
–
“Lady Evadne,” the headmistress said, drawing out the title with a curl of contempt. “You will learn to control yourself.” Or?
“Yes, mistress,” she said through clenched teeth. She hastily smoothed her hair and rumpled dress, slipped off her shoes, and knelt—soles of her feet turned upward.
The rod came down—swift and hard—across the soles of her feet. Where the “gentlemen” she entertained wouldn’t see. The pain was blinding, but Evadne made no sound. She would smile. She would flirt. Just as she’d been taught. Not retreat to her bed like the others. She’d be seen—poised, pleasant, untouched.
When the blows ceased, she rose slowly—wincing but silent. Alecto stood before her, impassive, whip still in hand.
“They hurt me. Badly.” Eva lifted her chin. Alecto’s eyes met hers—once again molten bronze—then she turned and continued down the corridor.
–
At last, they came to a massive doorway—thick wood bound in black iron. Alecto and Megaera turned to face her.
Megaera stepped forward. She looked young, but there was nothing soft about her. Her long red hair was tied with a large black bow—mocking innocence. Her dress was formal, immaculate: a black corset, puffed white sleeves, lace trim. Her smile was cold and hard, like it had been painted onto porcelain.
Megaera gave a formal curtsy and gestured for her to step forward.
Lady Evadne stood on the marble bridge of Carnal Policy, gazing over the rails at the mud of the Slough. She had read his letter a thousand times. He’d promised he would come. Promised they would be together. But the sun was nearly set. He had never intended to build something true. The words stung. They are all the same—every aspirant knew that. She had been a fool to believe otherwise.
–
She just walked away. The lies and rumors followed quickly. They called her Wanton. So, she threw parties. Wore the mask.
She stared at Megaera, impassive. She had no answer—and would give her none.
–
The air around Eva thickened with sulfur. Patches of flame burned across the scorched ground. She was… underground? Blood dripped from the daggers in her hands. She wiped them clean on her dress—already stained with blood and gore—then slid them back into her sleeves. It was a dress she’d never worn before—white, embroidered with silver. And this was a place she’d never seen.
The awareness hit hard. This wasn’t memory. This time, Megaera was showing her what would come.
A sword and shield lay discarded at her feet. She pulled off her helmet and dropped it beside them, breath heavy. Before her loomed a massive shape, indistinct in the dim, flickering light. At its side, crumpled and still, was a smaller figure. Perry!
She ran to him and dropped to her knees, clutching his hand in both of hers. His body was broken, a dark pool of blood spreading beneath him. He looked at her, eyes soft. “Eva,” he whispered—then coughed, choking on blood. “I’m sorry.” His eyes fluttered. “I never told you, I…”
The words died on his lips.
His gaze lost focus.
His breath stopped.
Eva kissed his face again and again, her tears falling hot and unchecked. “How am I supposed to live without you?” she whispered, voice breaking.
She blinked. She was once again standing before Megaera. They are all the same. He will leave you. The words weren’t spoken—but they hung in the space between them. When Megaera finally spoke, her voice was flat. Cruel. “In the end, you will walk alone.”
Eva didn’t hesitate. Her eyes locked on Perry, standing at her side. “I still choose him.”
Megaera turned without a word and stepped into the shadows.
Alecto swung the door wide.
“The Dread Lord Beelzebub will see you now.”
