Breath.
My first breath back in this body wasn't mine—it belonged to something older. Wilder.
I gasped like a newborn, lungs filling with air that wasn't air at all—sweet, electric, scented with violets. The sky above me pulsed like a living bruise—violet fading into black, pierced with streaks of silver lightning. Beneath my back, the ground was warm. Not soil—something softer. Almost… breathing.
What the hell is this place?
I sat up with a wince. My bones didn't ache. My skin wasn't broken. No blood. No bruises. Just a strange… calm.
That's when I saw them.
Still standing there like they had been waiting centuries.
Three women.
No. Three monsters wearing the skin of goddesses.
They looked at me like a curiosity. A bug in a jar.
Or a meal.
The golden one spoke first. Her voice was silk wrapped in steel.
"So… this is the Aetherion."
I blinked. My lips parted to speak, but nothing came out.
"He's smaller than I imagined." That was the shadowed one, brushing nonexistent dust off her sleeve.
"You should've brought another, Mavika," the flame queen hissed. "This one doesn't even smell powerful."
Another?
I scrambled to my feet, throat dry. "Who the hell are you? Where am I?"
I straightened my spine, trying to find a scrap of dignity. "My name is Hades."
My voice wavered.
"Or it was. Before whatever this is."
The word name felt like a joke in their presence—like naming a sheep before slaughter.
None of them answered. They only stared. Weighed. Judged.
Then the air shimmered behind them, rippling like heat on pavement. A fourth presence approached. Hunched. Cloaked in moss and bones.
A witch.
She didn't speak—just collapsed to her knees behind them, pale lips whispering apologies before she fainted.
That's when it clicked.
I wasn't summoned by accident. I was dragged here. A sacrifice.
The golden queen stepped forward, eyes never leaving mine.
"The Witch of the Northern Mountain brought you from your dying world to feed our strength. She failed."
The fire one smiled, slow and sharp.
"But her failure is our entertainment."
The shadow queen tilted her head.
"We'll eat you on the next moon cycle. Unless you amuse us before then."
Eat me?
I opened my mouth to protest, to scream, to run—but I froze.
There were five thinlines burned into the skin of my left wrist. Clean, pale, glowing faintly.
What the hell is that? A tattoo? Some weird side effect of resurrection?
I touched them. Nothing happened. Just skin.
I looked up. "You're serious," I whispered. "You want me to… die?"
"You already did," said the golden one. "But here, you'll die properly."
Her lips curved into a cruel smile.
"Unless one of us chooses to keep you."
They didn't explain what that meant. Didn't need to.
The look in their eyes told me enough.
If I couldn't win one of them over… I'd be slaughtered like livestock.
But why would any of them fall for me?
I was nothing. A nobody. Just a tired human who hated his 9-to-5 life and dreamed of sword fights and glory.
Be careful what you wish for, right?
Now I was in a kingdom where gods walked like women and love was the only weapon I had.
The golden one turned her back. "You have until the next full moon. Try not to bore us."
Then the fire queen stepped forward, leaned close, and whispered with breath like smoke against my cheek:
"Run, Aetherion. Run far. Or seduce a monster."
She laughed and disappeared into flames.
The shadows followed.
And I was alone again.
In a world that wasn't mine.
And with a tattoo I didn't understand—
Ticking down like a silent clock.
I wanted to matter. I wanted magic.
I didn't know I'd become prey.
Or that the only way out was through the hearts of queens who'd rather eat me than love me.
The palace was too quiet. Not peaceful—predatory.
Every step I took down the torch-lit corridor echoed too loud. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew staying in that velvet-caged room made me feel like meat on display.
I needed air.
I turned a corner, sharp, and froze.
There she was.
Fire-haired. Dressed in liquid red silk that clung to her like a warning.
She sat perched on a marble balcony rail, barefoot, sipping from a blood-colored goblet like she owned midnight itself.
Her eyes met mine.
A slow smile curved her lips.
"Couldn't sleep, Aetherion?"
That name again. The way they say it makes my skin crawl.
"Didn't realize I had permission."
I kept my voice even.
"Mmm," she purred, swirling her drink lazily. "You're not a prisoner, you know. Yet."
Liar.
I didn't reply.
She tilted her head.
"Come closer. I don't bite..." A beat. "Unless I'm bored."
I stepped forward, cautious.
She watched every move like a cat watching something she might kill, or kiss. Her aura wasn't warm—it was hot. Uncomfortably so. Like standing too close to a flame and pretending not to sweat.
She was beautiful. But in the way a knife is beautiful—sleek, polished, designed to draw blood.
"So," she drawled, eyes glinting, "you're the one the mountain witch dragged in. Doesn't look like much."
"I get that a lot."
Mask the nerves. Show nothing.
She let out a low laugh. "You've got a tongue on you."
She stood, slow, predatory grace in motion.
"Ravielle," she said casually, stepping closer. "First of the Dragon Queens. And occasionally... bored."
She extended her hand as if we were at a royal ball instead of some gothic fever dream.
I stared for a breath too long before I took it. Her skin was hot. Like it had just come out of flame.
"Hades," I said. "Or Aetherion, depending on who's pretending I'm not a sacrifice."
That earned another sharp grin.
"You're cute," she said, eyes dancing with something dangerous. "Scared. But cute."
She leaned in, too close. "Do you know what we plan to do to you?"
I already did. The queens said it like a joke: We'll eat you on the next moon cycle.
She wanted to see if I'd flinch.
I didn't.
"I have guesses."
She laughed, and it was sharp. Like she wanted me to hear her teeth behind it.
"Smart mouth. You'll die faster with that."
I smiled.
"Then I better make myself useful before then."
Her gaze sharpened.
Good. Let her know I wasn't just prey.
Inside, I was shaking. But fear was just adrenaline in disguise.
And adrenaline makes people survive.
I let my eyes flick to her legs—deliberate, slow.
Play the part.
And when she leaned back on her hands, arching slightly, I saw the hint of gold ink tattooed along her thigh—moving like it was alive.
"Is this how it works?" I asked. "One queen at a time? You test how easy I am to ruin?"
She grinned. Leaned closer.
"You think this is me trying?" she whispered. "You wouldn't survive me trying."
My pulse kicked hard.
Don't react. Breathe slower. Make her want the chase.
"Maybe that's the point," I said low. "If I'm going to die anyway, might as well die good."
There was a flicker in her expression—approval? Curiosity?
This is it. This is how I live.
Not by force.
Not by running.
But by playing them.
I was no warrior. No mage.
But I had skin, a mouth, a voice—and if seduction was survival, I'd master it.
Ravielle stood taller.
She brushed past me. Her shoulder grazed mine like a warning.
"Careful, Hades. "
My real name, not Aetherion.
It chilled me.
"You flirt like a survivor. But some of us don't like our food clever."
She was gone before I could speak.
Just the scent of smoke and heat behind.
I stared at the night sky for a long time.
Five lines still marked my wrist.
Like tally marks.
One moon cycle.
And I'd just used the first.
No one was coming to save me.
I would survive this hell....
Even if it meant seducing monsters disguised as goddesses.