Beneath layers of reinforced steel and anti-surveillance measures, a highly classified underground facility pulsed with low, artificial light. The air was thick with the scent of sanitized metal, old papers, and the faint chemical sting of experimental labs nearby.

The walls were lined with servers humming softly, while overhead, cables and tubes snaked like artificial veins. A massive steel door hissed open, revealing a room hidden deep within the facility—The Black Room.

Inside, a long, polished table stretched across the darkened chamber, its occupants shrouded in shadow.

The only illumination came from a holographic projection, its flickering blue light casting eerie reflections over the suited men surrounding it. They were faceless, nameless, powerful.

On the screen, an image formed—a tortured, wretched version of Tenebrae.

Or rather, Subject: DEATH.

“Executive Brownlee.”

A sharp voice cut through the silence.

Simon Brownlee—ex-husband of Eliza, head of Project Helios—stepped forward, adjusting his tie as he took his place at the center podium.

With a flick of his wrist, the hologram shifted, showing grainy security footage of the subject writhing in agony as the crown was removed.

Simon cleared his throat.

“As we suspected, the subject has returned to its realm.”

Another flick of the screen. Old historical texts. Ancient carvings. Black-and-white photos of strange occurrences throughout time.

“Throughout history, our species has encountered Death in various ways. At first, we believed Death was merely a force of nature—an inevitable conclusion to life. But now, we understand that Death… is living.”

The room remained silent, save for the quiet whirring of machinery.

“We had it in our grasp,” Simon continued, voice sharpening.

“And when we removed its crown, we witnessed something incredible—it became vulnerable. It felt pain. It bled. And now that it has reclaimed its crown, it has regained its full autonomy.”

The screen flickered, displaying images of strange energy surges detected across multiple-dimensional scanners.

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning to face the silent figures, “we believe we may have the ability to access the Realm of Death itself.”

A pause.

“If possible… we could release Project Helios into it. Eradicating the realm.”

A heavy silence fell over the table.

Then, a man shifted in his seat.

His presence alone commanded the room.

A heavyset fellow, white hair brushed back neatly, his thick fingers drumming against the table.

His voice was gravelly, like a man who had chewed through glass and smiled.

“IT?”

The single word carried weight.

Simon swallowed.

“Yes, sir. Eradicating Death ITself… the entire realm.”

The older man leaned forward, the glow of the hologram reflecting in his cold, beady eyes.

“We had Death in the palm of our hands, and you let it escape.”

Simon opened his mouth to respond, but the man slammed his fist against the table.

“We had its power, and your only solution is to burn it before it can claim your lives?”

“Sir—”

“Shut up and listen, boy.”

Simon flinched.

“That’s your damn problem. You don’t listen.” The old man’s voice was venomous, his fingers tapping slowly.

“Well, listen to this. Capture Death again. Alive. I want that crown. And I want that creature on my table, ready to be dissected, in one week. Or it will be you I cut open to see how you twitch.”

A suffocating silence followed.

“Dismissed, boy. The adults have to talk.”

Simon’s jaw locked in frustration, but he turned sharply, storming out.

Rage churned beneath Simon’s skin as he stalked to his office, barking orders at his secretary, a timid young woman who flinched at his every demand.

But before he could unleash his full wrath, a message crackled through his earpiece.

“Sir, you’re needed in Helios Containment.”

His anger froze.

Then, without hesitation, he turned and took the elevator down.

The descent felt endless.

With each level lower, the air grew colder—not from temperature, but from something… unnatural.

By the time he reached the final sublevel, the screams had begun.

“Helios…”

His voice barely escaped his lips as something beyond the glass stirred.

The screams ceased.

And the scientists watching smirked.

The stone corridors of Goodnight Kingdom stretched endlessly before them, lined with flickering torches casting their golden glow against the blackened walls. Wine-filled laughter echoed through the halls, bouncing off the towering stone arches as Eliza swayed playfully beside Tenebrae.

Her cheeks were flushed from the RK Muscadine Wine, her steps uneven but full of life. Ten, though not as easily affected, indulged in the warmth of the drink, allowing himself this fleeting moment of carefree indulgence.

Eliza hiccupped, then twirled, stopping abruptly to jab a finger at him with a mischievous grin.

“Okay, okay, my turn! Never have I ever… ridden on the back of a dragon!”

Tenebrae arched a brow, his expression shifting into something unreadable before his lips curled into a smirk.

“Oh?” he drawled, crossing his arms.

She wiggled her fingers at him. “Ha! Thought so! Guess your world isn’t that special af—”

“No, we do have dragons.”

Eliza froze mid-taunt. “Wait—what?”

“Not only do we have dragons, but I have ridden on the back of one.”

She blinked in disbelief.

“Bullshit.”

Ten simply took a slow sip of wine, his smirk widening.

“A mighty beast,” he mused, “with wings that could blot out the sky, scales as black as the abyss, and a roar that could shake the very mountains—”

Eliza gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh my gods, tell me more, oh wise one!”

Ten chuckled, leaning against the cool stone of the balcony.

“His name was…” he paused for effect, squinting as if deep in thought.

“Bob.”

Eliza nearly choked on her wine.

“BOB?! What kind of dragon is named Bob?!”

“Or was it Tracy…?” Ten tapped his chin, feigning deep contemplation. “It was something really simple. Uniquely simple.”

Eliza stared at him, slack-jawed.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Absolutely not. Bob… or Tracy… was a magnificent beast. And I flew on his back more times than I can count.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I don’t believe you. Show me.”

Ten leaned in slightly, his glowing green eyes glinting with mischief.

“One day, I will introduce you.”

She paused, assessing him for any sign of deception.

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

Eliza pursed her lips, considering. Then, with a huff of defeat, she tipped her head back and took a deep drink of wine.

Ten chuckled as she downed the rest of her glass, shaking his head.

The moonlight bled through the high stone arches, bathing them in pale silver luminescence, casting deep shadows that stretched endlessly across the empty banquet hall. The torches flickered softly, their light wavering with the pull of the ever-present night air.

The wine glasses glowed faintly, their edges traced with magic—the only way an undead could taste indulgence could feel the drunken warmth seep into hollow bones and forgotten flesh.

Eliza stared at her drink, rolling it between her fingers. She had no idea how she felt at this moment.

He looked like her next mistake.

Or he looked like the person she wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her life with.

However long that was in this world.

She let out a slow breath, feeling the wine settle in her limbs, her thoughts drifting into the dark pools of her mind. Her body wasn’t quite the same anymore—toned in ways she hadn’t expected, yet still marked with the stretch of time, of battles, of wounds that never truly left.

She thought about the woman she used to be.

The young girl who could turn the bad boys into good.

Would she have fallen in love with this place, with him, in another life?

Would she have embraced the fantasy, let herself be swept away in the dark fairytale?

Now, she wasn’t sure she had it in her anymore.

And the truth was, part of her didn’t care.

Her mind flickered to Lilith.

What kind of woman could break an undead heart?