UNVEILED SHADOW

The days in the underworld blurred together like streaks of ink in water—silent, slow, and suffocating. But on this particular morning, Velma's instincts were sharper than ever. Something had changed. She couldn't quite explain it, but her chest tightened with every breath, like the universe itself was holding its breath with her.

Her duties had become routine—tea delivery, robe assistance, quiet conversations with Lucian—but today, she moved differently. Intentionally. Observantly.

She'd been given a task by one of the kitchen overseers to deliver a rare bottle of bloodwine to Zamiel's chamber. A special delivery, they'd said. Reserved for nobility only. Normally, she wouldn't be sent to someone like Zamiel's room, but the underworld had grown stranger lately. Looser with rules. More erratic with structure.

And so, Velma carried the bottle carefully, walking down the west corridor that led to the prince's darkened quarters. Her steps were silent. Every so often, she'd glance over her shoulder, heart thudding a bit faster than it should. Something about the air felt different—charged, almost like a storm brewing behind velvet curtains.

She reached Zamiel's chamber, hands tightening around the neck of the bottle. She raised her fist to knock but paused when she heard voices inside.

She recognized them instantly.

Zamiel.

And… Azarath.

Her brows furrowed.

The Queen?

Why was she here? And why did they sound so—close?

Curiosity pulled her forward like a string. She shifted sideways, just enough so she could peek through the thin crack between the ornate door and its frame. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the first few words locked her in place.

"I still can't believe it," Azarath muttered. "Even the assassin we sent couldn't kill him."

Velma's breath caught.

Zamiel replied with a grunt. "We should never have trusted a mortal weapon. Lucian's too fast. Always in the way."

Azarath stepped toward him. "We underestimated him. Again. That knife was forged in darkness. It should've at least weakened Azarel long enough."

Zamiel snorted. "Lucian always ruins things. He's too loyal for his own good."

Azarath sighed, running her hand through her hair. "If we're not careful, Azarel's going to start remembering things we can't erase. That human girl is still hanging around his brain too."

Velma's body turned to ice.

"They don't know it's me," she mouthed silently.

"I hate how he looks at her sometimes when he was in the human world," Azarath admitted bitterly. "Even if he doesn't know who she is now… something inside him does."

Zamiel chuckled. "Then maybe it's time you distracted yourself from this mess."

She arched a brow. "Distracted?"

"I've missed spending time with you," Zamiel murmured, his voice suddenly softer. More intimate.

Velma stiffened.

"You always say that," Azarath whispered back, stepping closer.

"I mean it this time," Zamiel said, now pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "It gets lonely pretending to be your brother-in-law."

Azarath chuckled lightly. "And I grow tired of pretending to be a wife. He doesn't even touch me anymore."

"You don't want him to," Zamiel replied. "You want me."

He grabbed her by the waist and kissed her fiercely, pulling her against him.

Velma's eyes widened in horror.

She pressed her back against the wall, trying not to breathe too loudly, the bottle still cradled in her arms. Her fingers trembled.

Zamiel and Azarath were lovers.

This wasn't just betrayal—it was a conspiracy. They were plotting together behind Azarel's back. Behind the entire kingdom's back.

And just when she thought she couldn't be more shocked, their conversation turned darker once more.

As they pulled apart slightly, still tangled in each other's arms, Azarath said, "We need to speed up the plan. That maid… the one with the strange scent. She's stirring something in him. He was playing a song the other night. One that didn't belong to him."

Zamiel ran his fingers through her hair lazily. "You think she's triggering something?"

Azarath nodded. "It's possible. If he starts remembering the surface world, it's all over. He'll choose her over me."

Zamiel scoffed. "Then get rid of her."

"I can't. Not yet. It would be too suspicious. But I'm watching her. Closely."

Velma's knees felt weak.

They didn't know.

They didn't know she was the human woman. The one Daniel had married. The one they were whispering about.

"You worry too much," Zamiel muttered, brushing his lips along her jaw. "He's clueless. A puppet. And once the spell finally settles in, even Lucian won't be able to stop us."

Velma's heart stung. Every word was heavier than the last.

She backed away slowly, silent as a shadow.

By the time she reached the corridor corner, her mind was spinning.

She gripped the wine bottle tighter, then dropped it in a basket left by another maid, abandoning the delivery. She had more urgent things to deal with than serving traitors.

---

That night, she told Lucian everything.

She paced the chamber as he listened in disbelief. Every word added another line to his already worn face.

"An affair?" Lucian asked, standing abruptly. "And she's the one watching you?"

Velma nodded. "They have no idea who I am. But they're watching me. Closely."

Lucian ran a hand through his hair. "This is worse than I imagined."

"She wants to kill me," Velma whispered. "Not now, but soon. When I become too much of a threat."

Lucian stared at her, fury and fear mixing behind his eyes.

"I need to get you out of here," he said. "Sooner than two days."

Velma walked toward him and placed her hand on his arm. "Lucian… what if it's too late already? What if they've already started to change him?"

Lucian turned to her, eyes cold and determined. "Then we change him back. Whatever it takes."

Velma nodded slowly.

Outside the chamber, shadows flickered.

And somewhere in the palace, Azarath and Zamiel continued their twisted game.

But now, Velma wasn't just a bystander.

She was a threat.

And she would fight.