shadows kiss

Back at the demon realm

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The great hall was heavy with dread. Shadows danced along the cold stone pillars as the firelight flickered, but nothing warmed the chill that hung in the air. The Demon King sat upon his blackened throne, one leg drawn over the other, his crimson eyes unreadable.

Suddenly, the shrill cry of a raven echoed through the chamber.

The entire room stilled as the dark creature swooped in, a long scroll tied to its leg and something glinting red clutched in its talons. The bird descended before the throne, letting the item fall before fluttering away into the dark arches above.

A hush fell as the Demon King reached down. His fingers brushed the cold metal of a pendant—familiar, unmistakable. His expression darkened as he turned it in his hand, revealing a smear of dried blood. The Queen of the Witches gasped.

"That's… that's her pendant." Her voice cracked, raw with disbelief. "That's Zalria's pendant. And… that's her blood."

The king did not speak.

"You said you would protect her," she whispered, her voice shaking. "You promised me. Now ,my daughter is a blood-stained token delivered by a beast!"

"She wandered into danger. I did not send her," the king replied coldly.

"Do not twist this! She was your responsibility as much as mine!" Her voice rose, fury overtaking grief. "She is the daughter of a Queen! The heir to centuries of magic! And now she's in the hands of the Fallen!"

Her chest heaved with every word, face flushed. "You sit on that throne in silence while the monsters you cast out now mock us! How dare you act as though this is not your burden!"

The Demon King rose slowly, every movement oozing restrained rage. "You forget yourself," he said, voice low and sharp as a blade. "This throne you speak of—this power—was given to you by *me*. You rule only because I allowed it. You owe your kingdom's survival to *me*."

"I owe you nothing!" the Queen roared, her grief erupting into fury. "You who fear war. You who hide behind strategy while my daughter screams in some shadowed dungeon! If we had gone to war when I said, we should, none of this would have happened, the house of fallen would have been destroyed a long time ago before they even gather a flicker of strength.

The king's voice thundered. "War is not a game! I will not send thousands to die because your emotions rule you!"

Her face twisted in rage, tears finally spilling. "Don't you dare speak of emotions. I carried that girl! I bore her alone! I raised her, protected her from assassins, trained her to wield magic the gods themselves feared—*alone*! And you think this is just about pride? This is about *love*! Something you clearly know nothing about!"

The king looked shaken for a brief second.

"I'll go to war myself if I must," she hissed. "I will burn their cursed house to ash with my own hands!"

"You will not. You will stand down," the king growled. "My soldiers are not ready. My generals are dead or in recovery. Do not let grief blind you."

Suddenly, a guard stepped forward from the shadows, face pale. He bowed low and whispered something in the king's ear. The king's eyes narrowed.

"You… know the truth?" he murmured to the guard. "You have a plan?"

The guard gave a single nod. "Yes, my lord. The truth... about everything.

The Demon King straightened, nodding slowly, then turned back to the Queen.

"Stand down," he said one last time, quieter now.

But the Queen stepped forward, voice trembling as she stared into his eyes, hollow with grief.

"I will not forget this," she whispered. "If anything happens to her… not even the gods will save you.

The king said nothing.

And then, just as she turned to leave, she stopped. Her eyes flicked back toward him—burning, broken.