The Hallow Throne

Into the Underhallow

The air snapped inward, like the earth had sucked in a breath and held it.

Darkness folded around Rhea so thick it felt like water, pressing against her skin. She tried to scream, but her voice went nowhere—swallowed whole.

She was falling. Not down—sideways? Backward? Through?

Then—light.

Sickly gold and green, fractured through veins of crystal.

She hit cold stone hard, knees slamming into it. The impact drove the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping. The pain was sharp, real, grounding her in a way the last thirty seconds hadn’t.

The shadows behind her stitched themselves shut like a wound healing too fast.

When she lifted her head, they were all there. And now, she could see them—truly see them.

Riven moved first. Not toward her, just enough that the space seemed to shift with him. Tall, shoulders squared, the coat on his frame catching faint green light like liquid night. Every muscle in his body was strung tight, and the tension in him wasn’t just physical—it was in his gaze. A predator assessing if the thing in front of him was a threat… or a claim.

Bram was a wall of muscle and motionless menace, chest rising slow and steady. His wild golden eyes locked on her, hungry in a way that made her pulse trip. A curl of hair fell over his brow, catching on the faintest sweat. He looked like someone who would snap a man’s neck without blinking—and enjoy the crunch.

Aurel stood apart, leaning on one hip like this was all a performance he’d been waiting to watch. His green eyes glinted with the kind of interest that was more dangerous than outright threat—measured, calculating, and edged with something that felt like amusement.

And Noc… Noc didn’t move at all. Pale as bone in the dim light, shadow clinging to his sharp cheekbones like it belonged there. His stillness was wrong. Inhuman.

“Where the hell am I?” Rhea’s voice came out rough.

“Under,” Bram said. “Where you belong.”

“This isn’t real.” Her heart was a drumbeat in her throat, the sigil burning faintly at her back.

Riven’s eyes tracked her like a hawk’s. “You crossed the Veil. You’re in the Underhollow. Seat of the Sovereign Crown.”

“Home of monsters,” Noc murmured, the sound curling around her spine like cold smoke.

Aurel took a slow step closer, circling, eyes never leaving her. “Do you feel it yet? The pull in your skin? The heat in your spine? That’s the Sigil. And it’s answering us.”

Bram’s lip curled. “Then she’s mine.”

“You sensed her,” Riven said, voice sharpening, “but I claimed her first.”

Aurel’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You claim nothing. She’s not prey.”

“She’s not yours either, shadow boy,” Bram shot back.

“Enough,” Noc said, and they all stilled instantly.

Rhea blinked. “You’re fighting over me.”

“Not fighting,” Bram said. “Deciding who bonds first.”

Her stomach dropped. “The what now?”

Aurel’s voice was almost gentle. “You’re not just the Sovereign. You’re the anchor. The Sigil needs to bond to survive. And it bonds through us.”

“Define bond,” she said flatly.

“Mating,” Bram answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Blood-deep. Soul-tied.”

“Nope!” Rhea spun toward the nearest corridor. “Not happening.”

“You’ll break without it,” Noc said quietly.

She froze.

“What?”

“The Sigil’s too old,” Riven said. “Too heavy. It will eat you alive unless it’s shared.”

“Shared?”

Aurel’s tone softened, but there was no pity in it. “We don’t want to force you, Rhea. We want you to choose.”

Bram muttered, “Speak for yourself.”

Her laugh was sharp. “Right. I’m just some prize. A shiny little crown jewel.”

Noc’s head tilted, eyes dark and endless. “No. You’re the fault line. The thing that will crack this world open.”

She took another step back. “Don’t come near me.”

They held.

She turned toward the darkened archway at the far end of the corridor. A way out.

Rhea bolted.

Two steps.

Then the air folded in on itself, the green light snapping to black—

And Riven was in front of her.

She hit his chest hard enough to knock the wind from herself. His hands caught her arms, not gentle but not cruel.

“You’re marked,” he said again, voice low enough that it felt like it slid beneath her skin. “You don’t get to run from this.”

The shadows closed in—and the world shifted again.