Page 119 of Poison Sun

Astrophel.

For some reason, even though his name is dark and ancient, knowing it humanizes him.

I hate it, but it does.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he says.

There’s zero chance he and I are destined to be together. Not in a billion years.

“And if I say yes?” I play along, hoping his desire overpowers his doubts. “If I accept your throne of shadows—your kingdom of night?”

It’s like something changes after I speak the words, and suddenly, the shadow souls circling us seem almost protective. A barrier keeping the rest of the world at bay.

“Then you’ll be by my side as I take my place amongst the gods and make this city my kingdom. My Olympus,” he says. “Because soon, our dark savior will fully rise. Ambrogio. Once he does, there will only be two sides. The ones who stand with him and live, and the ones who oppose him and die.”

I’m breathless, and I’m not sure if it’s because of how close he’s standing to me, or how quickly I’m trying to digest everything he’s throwing at me. If I ever get back to Damien and the others—when I get back to them—they’ll need to know everything. And I can’t forget a single word.

“I’ve heard of Ambrogio,” I say slowly, carefully. “The first vampire.”

“My sire,” he says. “And soon, yours as well.”

I take a moment to let that sink in. Because the Shadow Lord isn’t a vampire. He’s a shadow soul.

What he’s saying doesn’t make sense.

“I don’t understand,” I say, since it’s the truth.

His hand reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face, his touch sending a shockwave of electricity through my veins. It’s like when he touches me in my dreams, but a hundred times more intense.

I should pull away. Escape his grasp.

Instead, I lean into his touch, my body betraying my mind’s frantic warnings.

“There’s nothing you need to understand,” he says. “Other than this.”

Before I realize what’s happening, he closes the space between us and kisses me.

My breath catches in my throat, and his aura, dark and all-consuming, wraps around me like a cloak. It whispers of secrets and power, and with every breath I take, I’m inhaling more of the shadows that surround him. Letting them seep into my soul and fill the emptiness that destroyed my light.

And, as much as I know I should, I can’t bring myself to stop. Not when he’s making me feel more whole than I have in ages.

Just as I’m about to lose myself entirely, a distant voice cuts through the fog of my mind.

“Amber!” Cassandra calls, yanking me out of the Shadow Lord’s embrace.

The Shadow Lord—Astrophel—pulls away, his eyes piercing mine.

“This isn’t over,” he says, and from the folds of his jacket, he retrieves a small metal object, pressing it into my palm.

“A token,” he murmurs. “So you can come to me at night, like I do to you.”

Before I can protest, his form blurs as he jumps into the river with a leap that defies the laws of physics.

The shadow souls follow, dissolving into the water, leaving ripples that fade into stillness.

Finally, when the last of them are gone, I uncurl my fingers to examine the token.

It’s a thick crescent that comes together on the ends, creating an illusion of the new moon. Tiny, intricate runes are etched along its curve, and its surface is unlike anything I’ve ever seen—dark, almost absorbing the dim light, yet shimmering like oil on water.

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