On the other side of the tiny town, Aamon walked to Zoe's building the long way on purpose. Not because it was efficient. Not because the Mortal Realm air did anything for him. Not even because he needed time to cool down. He could cool down whenever he wanted. He was the Sovereign. Fire was his oldest language. He walked because movement kept him from thinking.
And thinking had become… dangerous.
The city was still rubbing sleep from its eyes. Streetlights buzzed faintly as they shut off one by one, surrendering to morning. Cars hissed past on wet pavement. Somewhere, a dog barked like it was personally offended by sunrise.
Aamon kept his hands in his pockets, shoulders squared, posture perfect. He looked like a man on his way to work, which was exactly the illusion the Mortal Realm demanded. No crowns. No shadows. No flames. Just a tall man with dark hair and Deep brown eyes that looked too sharp for anyone with a normal life.
He should have felt better after leaving the house. He didn't. Because the moment he'd stepped out the front door, the memory hit him again with the force of a blade sliding between ribs.
Jade. Bare. Panicked. Wrapped in curtains like she was trying to hide from the world itself. Levi on the floor. And the sickening, brutal thought that had followed before logic could catch up:
He touched her. He got what I can't. He took what I…
Aamon's jaw tightened so hard it ached.
It hadn't even made sense. Aamon knew it hadn't. Levi couldn't have done anything in that chaos, not with Zeth there, not with Aamon himself dragging him away by the ankle like a dog caught stealing meat.
And yet the rage had come anyway. Immediate. Violent. Possessive in a way that made Aamon want to tear something apart just to prove he could.
Possessive.
That word sat wrong in his mind. He didn't own Jade. But he wanted to.
He didn't allow contracts for love, not anymore. Not after centuries of watching power rot souls from the inside. But desire didn't care about rules.
Desire didn't care about dignity, or rank, or the fact that Jade's heart beat on borrowed time while his didn't. Desire didn't care that he was the Sovereign and she was… human.
Aamon exhaled slowly.
But when he'd thought Levi had claimed her in any way, even by accident, something in him had snapped into clarity so sharp it hurt. The truth, the one he'd been circling around like a coward, finally came to light.
He wanted her, not just as a curiosity. Not as entertainment. Not as a temporary distraction. He wanted her close. Wanted her to look at him the way she looked at Zoe when she laughed. The way she looked at Zeth when she listened. The way she had looked at Aamon when he finally embraced her, like the world had steadied.
And that was the most dangerous thing he'd ever wanted.
Because wanting meant imagining.
And imagining meant seeing the end.
The Soul Shift would end. He would return to the Dark Realm. Jade would go on living, and if she didn't hate him, she would miss him. Then she would grow older. Then she would die.
Aamon's steps slowed for half a second. It couldn't. It never could. A romance between them was impossible. He knew it was.
He could conquer demons. He could bend Hell to his will. He could silence life with just a look.
But he couldn't change what a human was.
To make it worse, the rules that kept him restrained around mortals had begun to fray.
He had burned Jade before. He'd watched her flinch, watched the angry red marks rise on her skin where his touch had landed, watched the confusion in her eyes when pain didn't match his intentions.
Then, later, he'd touched her again. And she hadn't burned. He could still feel it. The shock of it. The way his power had braced for resistance and found none. He'd embraced her in the office, arms around her, and she'd stayed there. Warm. Alive. Unharmed.
No contract. No deal. No protection clause. Just… Jade.
Aamon didn't understand it. And not understanding something made him uneasy in a way nothing else could. The Sovereign didn't get to surprised often. He who has the ability to sense what is to come, and yet this was not a thing he could have predicted. It drove him to madness.
He reached the building at last.
It sat near the center of the city, a large, old structure with newer renovations forced onto it like armor: added security, brighter windows, a clean sign out front. Not a museum, not a church, not a government office.
A refuge. A foster home, in mortal terms. Zoe's territory. Aamon stepped onto the front walkway. The door swung open before he reached it, and Zoe appeared like a storm given a human body.
She was dressed in a long, simple dress that should have made her look delicate, but nothing about Zoe was delicate. Her shoulders were strong, her stance solid. Short blonde hair framed her face with that thick rat tail hanging down her back. Light brown eyes took him in like she was cataloging damage.
"Hey. Where was your mind at?" Zoe jabbed him in the arm hard enough to make a mortal wince when he hadn't responded to her greeting.
Aamon's expression stayed flat, eyes distant. "Nowhere important."
Zoe's smile flickered. She didn't believe him, because Zoe rarely believed anyone who tried to be stoic. It was one of her hobbies, poking holes in pretense.
She stepped aside. "Come in before you scare the staff. You look like you're about to start a war."
"I already run one," Aamon muttered, brushing past her.
Zoe followed, shutting the door behind them. The entryway smelled like clean laundry, cheap coffee, and the faint sweetness of breakfast cereal. The walls had drawings taped up everywhere: suns, stick figures, messy hearts, monsters with too many teeth.
Mortal children. They were the only thing Zoe softened for.
A little boy barreled down the hall toward Zoe, backpack bouncing. Zoe crouched immediately, catching him with an ease that was almost practiced.
"Shoelace," she scolded gently, already tying it. "You trip, you die. That's the rule."
The boy giggled like she'd told him a joke instead of a warning. "Ms. Zoe, you're scary."
"Correct," Zoe said, tightening the knot. "Go conquer school."
He ran off.
Aamon watched her for half a beat longer than he meant to.
Zoe stood again, brushing her hands off. "Where's Levi?" she asked casually. "I thought he was helping me today."
Aamon felt the anger stir before he could stop it, like an animal waking up.
"Don't bring him up today," he said coldly.
Zoe's brows rose.
Now she was interested.
She fell into step beside him, voice lowering. "What happened after I went to bed?"
"Nothing important," Aamon lied.
Zoe's eyes narrowed. "You're a terrible liar."
Aamon didn't answer.
Zoe grabbed his arm just inside the hallway, forcing him to stop and face her. The movement was bold, borderline stupid, but Zoe was old enough to make stupid look like courage.
Her voice turned sharp. "Did Levi… get to Jade?"
The name Jade landed in Aamon's chest like a struck bell.
His eyes flared, heat flickering behind them.
"If you already knew," Aamon hissed, "why are you asking?"
Zoe's face drained of color.
"Oh," she whispered, horrified. "That bastard. I told him if he laid a hand on her, I'd send him to exile myself."
The words laid a hand on her twisted in Aamon's mind, blending with that vision of Jade scrambling for curtains.
Zoe's voice went softer, trembling at the edge. "He really… killed her then?"
Aamon froze.
"Killed?" he repeated, the word strange in his mouth.
Zoe stared at him. Aamon stared at her. Understanding finally clicked between them like a lock closing. Zoe hadn't meant what he'd thought. And Aamon, in his jealousy, had assumed the worst. His shoulders loosened and the heat behind his eyes extinguished instantly, replaced by a slow, bitter exhale.
"You actually had me scared for a moment," Aamon said quietly. "No. Jade isn't dead."
Zoe let out a breath so relieved it almost sounded like laughter. Then she smacked him in the arm, harder this time.
"Don't scare me like that," she snapped. "What did you think I meant?"
Aamon turned away. "I don't want to discuss it."
He walked down the hall, leaving Zoe staring after him with a face that said I'm going to make you discuss it anyway.
"Aamon!" Zoe called, jogging to catch up. "Hey! What about Levi? Who's helping me today?"
When he did not respond Zoe slowed, calling to him again softer. "Aamon?"
Aamon still didn't answer until he reached the dining hall.
It was a wide room with long tables, mismatched chairs, and a massive grandfather clock in the corner that looked like it had survived several wars and at least one fire. The smell of coffee was stronger here. Aamon sat down with a cup already waiting on the counter.
His hands were moving on their own, like his body understood the rules of pretending to be human better than his mind did.
Zoe slid into the seat beside him and offered a small, overly formal bow.
"I won't press you for answers, Sovereign," she said sweetly.
Aamon narrowed his eyes. Zoe's sweetness was a weapon.
Zoe continued, lowering her head toward the table with exaggerated humility. "However, I fear I will not have everything prepared in time without assistance. Forgive me for disappointing you, Sovereign."
Aamon rolled his eyes, the sound a low huff. "I didn't say you had no assistance."
Zoe looked up, blinking. "I… don't?"
Aamon gestured vaguely at himself. "Why do you think I am here?"
Zoe stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Then she grinned so wide it bordered on ridiculous and slapped him on the back hard enough to make the coffee slosh.
"Awe, Aamon, you're too kind," she laughed.
Aamon's expression remained unimpressed. "Don't make it weird."
Zoe ignored that and launched into her list of tasks like she'd been waiting for this moment all week.
"Okay, so. Luke's room needs to be ready by tonight because we don't know if he'll show up with luggage or with an ego the size of a cathedral and demand everything be perfect. We need extra beds made because if any of the others show up, I'm not having them sleep on my couches like they're drunk mortals. Also, the pantry needs restocking. Also, the back door latch is still broken. Also, one of the kids stole three spoons and I have no idea why but I'm going to find out."
Aamon listened with half an ear. His mind kept drifting back to Jade. To the way she'd looked after he'd ignored her in the kitchen. Like his silence had cut deeper than any blade. He'd wanted distance to stop the desire from growing teeth. The truth was, the distance hadn't dulled anything. It had sharpened it. Now he knew he could hurt her without touching her at all.
The grandfather clock chimed eight.
Footsteps filled the hallway. Children passed through the dining hall in clusters, waving, calling goodbye, grabbing lunches. Zoe's entire energy shifted as they moved by.
Aamon watched her soften, watched her voice turn warmer, watched her hands reach automatically to straighten collars, fix a backpack strap, wipe sleep from a child's cheek.
A little girl paused at Zoe's side, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit.
"Ms. Zoe," she whispered, "I had a bad dream."
Zoe crouched, face level with hers. The tomboyish swagger fell away, replaced by something almost ancient and gentle.
"What happened in it, peanut?"
The girl swallowed. "I was back there."
Zoe's jaw tightened for a split second, then she smiled like the dream had no claws at all. "You're not back there. You're here. And I'm right here."
The girl leaned forward and hugged Zoe fiercely. Zoe hugged her back, one strong arm around small shoulders, the other hand patting her head. "Go be brave at school. I'll be here when you get back."
The girl nodded and ran off. Zoe stood again, watching the child disappear down the hall. For a moment, her smile faded, replaced by something heavier. Something like memory.
"You're too attached." Aamon spoke without thinking.
Zoe's eyes slid to him, amused. "You say that like it's an insult."
"It's a vulnerability."
Zoe snorted. "So is breathing. Still necessary."
Aamon didn't respond. He took a slow sip of coffee.
Zoe leaned on the table, voice quieter now. "You know what mortals used to say about me?"
Aamon's gaze flicked to her. "They said plenty."
Zoe's smile returned, small and sharp. "They blamed me."
Zoe tilted her head, the rat tail shifting against her back. "Abyzou. Baby-eater. Miscarriage demon. The thing lurking in the dark to steal infants from cradles."
Aamon watched her face carefully. Zoe's expression didn't hold shame. It held resentment.
"They wanted a monster," Zoe continued. "So they made me one."
Aamon's voice came out flat. "But we all know that's not the case."
Zoe's eyes softened, and she looked down the hallway where the children had gone.
"I'm the one who stays," she said quietly.
"Mortals are quick to celebrate motherhood," Zoe kept talking, because once Zoe started, stopping her was like trying to stop a river with a stick. "They paint it holy. Pure. Untouchable. Like every woman who can reproduce automatically deserves a child."
Her gaze sharpened. "That's not how it works."
Zoe leaned back in her chair, voice still low. "I don't hurt good mothers. I don't punish women for existing. That's what the stories got wrong."
Zoe's jaw set. "I protect the children."
Aamon's fingers tightened around his mug. He knew the tales all to well, the stories the Greeks had passed on about Zoe. In the other realms, Zoe was not the monster she had been made to be here. She was a savior. But sometimes, in order to be a savior, you must become the villain.
Zoe exhaled. "Some humans shouldn't be parents. I can see it, how they will treat their children like possessions, like weapons, like punching bags. How the other adults around that child will pretend it isn't happening until it is too late."
Her eyes darkened, ancient anger surfacing. "I can't just watch. I stop it. By taking their ability to conceive."
Zoe's expression stayed steady. "It's not random. It's not spite. It's not cruelty for fun."
She tapped a finger against the table. "It's a judgment. A line in the sand."
Aamon's mouth tightened. "Mortals would call that monstrous."
Zoe snorted. "Mortals call everything monstrous if it makes them uncomfortable."
Then she glanced at him sidelong, eyes knowing. "Sound familiar, Sovereign?"
Aamon's gaze turned distant because it did. He was all to familiar with being the blame for all humans wrong doing. Frail ignorant creatures they were, not understanding it is the gift of their own free will that gave them the power to do wrong or right. Their judgment afterwords was simply a consequence, not a cause.
Mortals didn't understand balance. They didn't understand restraint. They didn't understand what it took to keep Hell from spilling into everything.
Zoe's voice softened again. "People fear what they don't understand. They simplify it into a bedtime story. That's all we deities become in the end."
Aamon's mind flicked to Jade, to the way she'd listened to Zeth explain the rules with wonder instead of terror.
To the way she'd said she felt bad for Aamon because it sounded lonely.
Lonely.
It was an absurd thing for a mortal to feel toward him.
And yet it had struck him harder than anything else she'd said.
The front door echoed as the last of the children left. The hallway quieted.
Zoe clapped her hands once, brightening her tone like she'd flipped a switch. "Alright. Enough depressing mythology. Ready?"
Aamon stood with a heavy sigh. "Yes."
Aamon carried mattresses and boxes like a mortal man. He fixed hinges. He replaced a broken latch. He arranged a bedroom with a patience he didn't realize he possessed until Zoe began barking orders like a drill sergeant with a heart.
Zoe moved through the building like she owned every hallway, every room, every small life under her roof. She checked on staff. She inspected locks. She reviewed schedules. She left notes for teachers. She made sure lunches were packed.
Then she walked into the laundry room, found a child hiding behind a stack of towels, and sat down on the floor with them without a word.
Aamon watched her do it. Watched her wait, silent, until the child spoke first. Watched her hand the child a cookie like it was a peace treaty. Watched her laugh softly when the child finally smiled. Zoe looked up and caught Aamon watching.
"What?" she demanded, defensive.
Aamon turned away, voice flat. "Nothing."
Zoe squinted at him. "You're doing it again."
Aamon kept folding sheets.
"Your face," Zoe continued. "It's doing that broody thing. Like you're trying to wrestle your own thoughts into submission."
Aamon's jaw tightened.
Zoe leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "It's Jade."
Aamon didn't answer.
Zoe snorted. "That's not a denial."
Aamon finished folding a sheet with more force than necessary. "Drop it."
Zoe stepped closer. "No."
Aamon's eyes lifted slowly. "Zoe."
Zoe held his gaze, unfazed. "You're the Sovereign, not a statue. I know you have something bubbling under that iron expression of yours so come on, out with it. Speak."
Aamon's lips pressed together. His control was iron, but Zoe had always been good at finding the cracks.
He exhaled. It was easier to give her something than to continue denying it.
"It's complicated," he said quietly.
Zoe rolled her eyes. "Everything is complicated. What's your point?"
Aamon stared at the folded laundry in his hands like it might answer for him.
"I thought I wanted… companionship," he admitted. "Friendship."
Zoe's expression softened. "And you don't."
Aamon's voice turned rough. "No."
Zoe's eyes widened slightly, pleased and horrified at the same time. "So you finally figured it out."
Aamon's gaze snapped up, sharp. "Don't look smug."
Zoe smiled anyway. "It's about time."
Aamon's voice dropped low. "When I thought Levi…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Zoe's smile faded. "Ah."
Aamon's fingers tightened. "I can't explain it. I've controlled entire Realms. I've watched wars burn out. I've survived betrayal, rebellion, endless centuries of—"
His voice cut off.
He swallowed.
"And yet the idea of her with someone else made me… irrational."
Zoe's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "That's jealousy."
Aamon's mouth twisted like he despised the word. "Yes."
Zoe let the silence hang for a beat, then asked the question she'd clearly been holding back.
"And you can touch her."
Aamon's chest tightened.
"Yes."
Zoe stepped closer, voice lower. "And you don't know why."
"No."
Zoe's gaze sharpened, thoughtful, almost clinical in the way deities could become when facing something that didn't match the laws.
"You burned her before," Zoe said. "But not always."
Aamon's eyes narrowed.
Zoe continued, voice careful. "That means one of two things. Either this is a fairy tale and you found your true love…"
Aamon's stomach tightened, disliking the way Zoe could joke about such a serious matter.
"Or. Jade isn't what she appears to be," Zoe finished, offering a sly smile.
Aamon looked away. He didn't want to say it aloud. Saying it aloud made it real. And if it was real, it meant Jade's existence was tied to something bigger than either of them. It meant the Universe had plans and Aamon was going to need to be ready for a war they all thought ended centuries ago.
Zoe watched him for a moment. "You're scared."
Aamon's eyes flashed. "I'm not scared."
Zoe smirked. "You're scared of hope."
Aamon's jaw clenched.
Zoe tapped his chest lightly with two fingers. "And you're scared because you think you have no right to want her."
Aamon's voice came out like gravel. "She's human. She will age. She will die."
Zoe's face softened. "Everything dies."
"Not me." Aamon fell silent.
Zoe tilted her head. "You talk like this is already decided. Like you have to punish yourself in advance. She could be something more, something we can't see yet. Maybe you could…"
Aamon's voice dropped, suddenly deadly serious. His eyes held Zoe in place, his words cut her off. "It's not punishment. Any hope I had was eliminated a long time ago. I am simply being realistic."
"Realism is what cowards call surrender." Zoe let her words hang in the air.
Aamon's mouth tightened, but he didn't argue. Zoe leaned closer, voice softer, almost gentle.
"Tell me the truth," she said. "Do you want her?"
Aamon's throat tightened. His silence was answer enough.
Zoe nodded slowly, satisfied. "Then stop pretending it's only friendship."
Aamon's hands curled into fists. "And do what, Zoe? Claim her? Bind her? Trap her in something she didn't ask for?"
Zoe's voice sharpened instantly. "Don't twist it. You're not some mindless beast."
Aamon's eyes darkened. "No. I am the king of all Demons."
Zoe's gaze held steady. "And she still chose to stay."
Aamon's breath caught.
Zoe pointed down the hallway toward the empty building, toward the rooms filled with children's drawings and small lives.
"People assume monsters can't love," Zoe said quietly. "They assume we're only hunger and violence. They assume the worst because it's easier than admitting the world is complicated."
She looked back at him, eyes steady. "You don't have to be what they wrote about you."
Aamon stared at her for a long moment.
He wanted to argue.
But the truth was, he'd already begun changing the moment Jade had looked at him without fear.
Zoe stepped back with a sigh, rolling her shoulders like she'd shaken off something heavy.
"Anyway," she said briskly, flipping back into her usual tone. "Luke's room still needs sheets, and if we don't get those done, he'll complain until the Sun dies."
Aamon gave a faint, humorless exhale. "That sounds like Luke."
Zoe grinned. "Now you're talking."
Aamon turned back to the laundry.
But his mind wasn't on sheets.
It was on Jade. On the way she'd looked when he'd embraced her. On the way she'd crumpled when he walked past her without looking. On the way his arms had fit around her like they'd always belonged there.
And on the terrifying question Zoe had pushed to the surface:
If the Universe had made it possible for him to touch her without burning her…Was the prophecy coming to fruition?
For the first time in centuries, he found himself wanting an answer badly enough that it frightened him.
The grandfather clock chimed again in the distance. Zoe called from the hall, voice loud and cheerful. "Move it, Sovereign! These mortal chores aren't going to do themselves!"
Aamon exhaled, lifted the folded linens, and followed. No matter how far he walked, no matter how much he worked, no matter how many rules he recited to himself, he could not escape the truth anymore.
He wanted Jade.