Prologue

215 years ago

City of Snakes in the human realm

A pain-filled cry echoed off the hills. It was the sound of a death blow. Razor could feel it in his bones. Only the surety that the sound hadn’t come from any of his brothers kept his gaze trained on his opponent. He couldn’t lose focus now.

Fifteen years since the journey to this moment had begun, and it was all ending today.

Years of preparation, of building alliances, gaining ground one day at a time, and living as rogues from the Underworld—the realm of their birth. But today, all that planning had finally paid off. Everything had fallen into place.

So fucking tired.

Swinging his dagger, he caught the Demon on the side of the neck. It screeched and launched itself at him in a blind fury, blood blossoming from the fresh wound. Razor bared his fangs and countered the attack.

Too many years they’d been fighting off armies of Others, all in allegiance to the current queen of this land, Iohram, a vicious gorgon. The Snake Queen.

Soon to be ex-Snake Queen, he thought, as he dug his knee into the Demon’s belly. The Demon grunted in pain. Razor punched it harder.

The feeling of knowing that tomorrow he and his brothers would wake up to peace was indescribable. It wouldn’t shame him to break down in tears when the sun finally rose.

As he grappled with the Itauloch Demon, grunts, growls, gurgles, and whimpers of the dying served as his background music. The battlefield reeked of death and fear. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled anything else. Not the smell of a good meal or a warm bed, much less the night without blood in its breeze.

Snarling, Razor didn’t let up as he kept hitting the Demon. None of this was the guy’s fault, he knew that, but that didn’t seem to matter as the desperation to see this fucking war done grew stronger. He held the struggling male against the muddy ground, exertion making him slower than usual and allowing the Demon to land its own blows on his body. He grunted in pain as the Itauloch scratched at his arms, its knees trying to find purchase against his ribs.

Unfortunately for the other male, Razor was bigger. And had a lot more fucking motivation.

As the Demon’s strength waned under Razor’s heavier weight and hits, he gripped the side of its head and twisted. The neck snapped and the body went limp instantly. A second later, he was up and pulling out his sword. His breathing was ragged and his body bleeding from several cuts, but he couldn’t afford even a few moments to catch his breath.

With a quick slash, he cut off the Demon’s head and moved on. There was no telling which breeds of Others could regenerate.

Up ahead, he spotted several more enemy soldiers cutting down his army. The sudden image of the new home he and his brothers searched for flashed in his mind, and he snarled. With renewed strength, he rushed forward.

It was only thanks to recent alliances formed in the new realm and the group of Others who had followed them here that Razor and his brothers weren’t already long dead.

As he took down the last cluster of enemies, his soldiers at his side, Razor noted that the screams and grunts of the dying weren’t coming as often. Worry nagged at him as he slashed his way through another adversary. He blocked out the noises of the fight, concentrating on the connection he shared with his brothers. In his mind, he pulled at the invisible strings that connected him to Edge, Night, and Sin.

Edge answered the mental question first. He was fine. As was Night. Though Night thought it was appropriate to add, Fuck off, Razor. I’m fine. No one has even touched my magnificent hair.

He rolled his eyes and decided he was going to punch Night in the gut when he saw his brother again.

Right when he was starting to worry that something had happened to Sin, his baby brother sent him reassurance through the link. In those short moments when Sin’s mind had been open to his, he’d felt that Sin wasn’t fine. The mental screams of anguish and pain almost made Razor double over.

Glancing up quickly from the fight he was in, he searched for Sin. He found him on the far left of the field, his body moving like a tornado, eradicating at least six Trolls in a handful of seconds. Sin was fighting with everything in him, his katanas slicing and chopping at anything that got in their way.

Sending Sin a light mental touch on his back, he returned to his fight. Sin would be fine. He deserved to be spilling blood. Maybe then his little brother would have a sliver of peace.

He didn’t know how long the fighting lasted, but when he finally pulled his blade from the gut of the last body in his path and wiped the blood from his face with his forearm, he looked around and his stomach dropped. There were only a few left standing, and none of them were his brothers.

Yells for them went unanswered. Even the mental ones.

Oh Goddess…no.

He shielded his sword, his heart beating so fast it was all he could hear for a moment. But then as he was about start digging through the piles of corpses, he heard it: a roar of victory.

He spun around, and there, on the tallest mountain of debris and death, stood Edge. The roar came again, and then soldiers began to step out from behind the trees. Some friends, some foes; some fearful, some relieved. But when they spotted Edge, they all looked upon him with awe.

Swallowing with emotion, Razor pulled out his sword again, readying to defend their victory.

Goddess, please let this be it.

His oldest brother’s chest heaved with exertion, his body covered in blood and gore just like the rest of them. Those icy black eyes of his traveled over every single warrior. When they went for their weapons, Edge’s glare made them falter. It dared them to try it. They looked around at their dead, then back up at Edge, and hesitated.

Razor’s chest expanded with pride. That was his brother up there. They would have no kings or queens in their new home, but if they did, Edge would be it. Even if his brother denied it, Razor believed with all his heart that Edge had been born to be a king.

“It is over!” Edge’s deep voice reverberated through the stones and trees. “We have won. Your queen is dead, and only you remain.”

As the words left Edge’s lips, Night walked out from behind a clump of trees. He held the head of the late Queen Iohram in his hand, her face frozen in a sneer. Sin followed behind Night, his double katanas held ready and dripping with blood as he guarded Night’s back. When they reached Edge, Night grinned, handing him the head.

Edge bellowed in triumph as he lifted the head high up in the air. “You have three choices. One: swear your alliance to us. Two: leave our land and never return. Or three: you can die here, now, on this field with honor.”

Heartbeats passed, but no one moved. Then, as if choreographed, every last one of them threw their weapons down and knelt on the blood-soaked ground, their heads bowed.

Smart fuckers.

His brother’s mighty roar was echoed by Night’s, then Sin’s, and finally Razor’s. His skin broke out in goose bumps as the three joined on the hill and stood next to their eldest brother.

The Hellhounds finally had a place in the world. He looked around at all they had done, all that was theirs now, and laughed. His tears of joy, relief, and heartbreak for all those they’d lost mixed with the soot and blood on his cheeks.

Shadow Realm was born. And it was good. Damn good.