Frost Holm was a desolate place, surrounded by miles and miles of snow, ice, and death. It was the kind of place where only a god could survive. Even then, most of them didn't have the stomach for it. Not many could look upon that endless abyss and call it home.

The God of Death? He never had a choice.

After Gemma died, he lost control of his Death Aura—a feeling in the air akin to a chill going down your spine—and sent the surrounding villages into a panic. The Court of Balance ordered him to move his domain to Frost Holm, a place that no god visited of their own free will. It was the only place his Death Aura could be tucked away and forgotten—where he could be forgotten.

Noctavius smirked as he strolled through his domain. Hundreds of gods moved about the castle, and there was hope in their eyes that Death had not seen in a long time. The Court had been so pleased with their decision to banish him here. And yet, they had not realized that the Death Aura was nearly non-existent in the merciless cold. Any chill the gods felt could be easily blamed on the snow.

He caught sight of Somel. The God of Rot, who usually preferred his solitude, was giving the newest godlings a tour of the grounds. At first, he had doubted his decision to send the reeking god to Nira's Path, but he could not deny how useful he had been. His first recruits, Lila and Jason, would help convince other youths to join their cause.

"Somel," he said to the god as he passed. "Keep up the good work."

The God of Rot bowed. "Thank you, my lord."

He continued through the grounds and made his way to the training fields, where the twins practiced against a Florum goddess. Roots shot out of the ground and lashed out at them, but they dodged with ease. They shifted from tall, hulking figures that ripped away the vines to nimble children, ducking and rolling away. Noctavius breathed a quiet laugh. No matter how often he saw it, he could never quite grasp how quickly the twins could shift. Even if they weren't the strongest in terms of sheer strength, they were cunning, and the two of them moved as a fluid unit.

"Petir, Petra," he called. Without a second look at the Florum goddess, they shifted to their default look and wandered over. He wasn't sure if those faces truly belonged to them, but they had become familiar all the same. "Walk with me. I want to hear about your trip to The Sands."

They followed him to the front of the castle. When they were alone, Petir sneered and said, "The Goddess of Sight is blinded by her pity. We entered her temple with ease, and she was most welcoming."

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"She mostly stays inside that room," mused Petra sweetly. "And keeps her face hidden from her people."

They ascended the stairs to the war room, and Noctavius shut the door behind them. "Did you learn anything?"

He waved at the two of them to sit, and they fell into their preferred seating: Petra on a plush couch in the corner and Petir on a wooden chair at the table. There was a pause, and the twins looked at each other. Petra said slowly, "She never takes the orb from her seeing room."

"It remains guarded," Petir spat out, "but I assume that won't be a problem, seeing the state of her people."

His sister frowned. "I noticed a lock on the door. It looked like it was written in Altani."

"Did you see it for yourselves?" asked Death, leaning forward.

"It was sitting on a pedestal inside, surrounded by dark flame." Petra shivered and added, "I caught a peek when she went inside."

"Dark flame," he murmured. "Anything else?"

For the first time, Petir shifted uncomfortably. "There are two servants that follow her everywhere. They wear face coverings, and I cannot tell if they are human or god."

Petra nodded and said, "They even sleep in her chamber at night."

"I've heard of these two: she calls them Ethera and Nile." Death rubbed his chin and continued, "It's whispered that they are beings from The Sea, forged from a different orb."

Petir scoffed. "We can take them."

"Don't get cocky, Petir," Death warned. "We must be cautious and move when Athema least expects it."

He huffed and said, "We grew up in Druge—it's in our blood to expect the worst. We're not foolish."

"What my sweet brother is trying to say," said Petra, leaning her cheek on a hand, "is that we have a plan."

"Plan?" Death looked between the two of them. "This is the Goddess of Sight. Any plan that you might have, she will be one step ahead."

Petra faltered. "Then what should we do?"

Noctavius removed his mask and said, "Finish your training and meet me back here after dinner. We have much more to discuss."

Without another word, the twins bowed in unison and exited the war room. When they were gone, Death opened the balcony door, allowing fresh air and the sounds of sparring to swirl inside, then settled in a chair next to the map. As he listened to those distant voices, he made a mental note to train with his people soon. He needed to know these gods that would give their lives for his cause.

Then, his eyes flickered to the corner of the room.

Standing there—bathed in blood so dark it looked like shadow—was a woman. She turned to him slowly and muttered, "Hail thee, King of Death. Your throne awaits. The dead await."

"You're getting blood on the floor," he murmured. Noctavius turned back to the map. He trailed his finger along until it landed on The Sea, that impossible path between humans and gods, and tapped it twice. "I need to pay someone a visit first."

"My King," it hissed. "Come home soon."

The figure bowed and disappeared. Death let out a shuddering breath and leaned back in his chair, trying not to stare at the puddle of blood in the corner. He would visit the God of Fire again, but this time, Maruble wouldn't be able to refuse his offer.

There was no more time to waste.