It was a glorious spring day.
And Yomi was about to get taken to the underworld by the God of death.
You reached for the flower on the ground. And then-
The earth cracked.
Not a gentle splitting, not a polite parting of soil. The ground shattered, like glass struck by a hammer, and from the wound poured darkness so thick it swallowed the sunlight whole. The nymphs scattered, shrieking, their bare feet trampling flowers as they fled into the treeline.
A golden chariotโno, not a chariot. A throne on wheels, black horses with eyes like burning coals, hooves striking the earth and leaving scorch marks. The vehicle rose from the fissure like a beast breaching the surface of a lake.
He sat at the helm, one hand loose on the reins, the other resting on the arm of his seat with casual ownership. His grey hair caught the dying light. Those dark eyes found Adonis immediatelyโlocked on with the precision of a predator spotting prey.
He was devastatingly handsome in the way a knife is beautiful. Sharp. Cold. Purposeful.
His lips curved.