The lights in the Demon Lord's dining hall flickered in the still silence. The moment Zaltus stepped away from the table, the pressure of his presence left. Finally, allowing some of them to breathe. Several of them exhaled at once.

  Somewhere during their conversation with the Demon Lord, plates of food were placed in front of them, but now they remained untouched. Each dish was a careful arrangement of roasted meats, fragrant roots, and dark fruits that looked as though they'd been pulled from a forest no human would dare enter. The Demon Lord paused at the doorway and swept his gaze across the table.

  "I will leave you all to enjoy your meals," he smiled, too pleasantly. "And to organize your thoughts."

  He shut the doors behind him.

  Silence swelled in the room. Almost every one of them sagged visibly in their chairs. Varin rubbed at his temples. Aelun stretched his neck. Myrren sucked in a shaky breath. Calder and then the other inquisitor wiped their brows; all of them had broken into a cold sweat. Even Cassian looked faintly drained.

  Selene did not reach for her food. Neither did anyone else. Their gazes all hovered somewhere between the door and the table, each processing what they had just learned.

  Varin broke the silence.

  "Well," he said, leaning back with a soft chuckle, "it seems the Sanctum isn't the only place with…wayward elements."

  Selene turned her head sharply. "Now's not the time, Grand Master."

  "Is it not?" Varin asked, utterly unbothered. "You chose not to be our greatest Saint because of the rampant corruption. Understandable. I admit my own failings—my inability to rein in some of our… undesirable clergy." His mouth twitched. "But you prided yourself on the unity of the Hallows. Something admirable. And yet—"

  "Two," Selene cut in. "Two demons. In a kingdom of millions." Her eyes narrowed. "How many of your clergy are corrupt?"

  Varin laughed—short, warm, and almost fatherly.

  "I've always seen you as a shrewd, capable woman," he said. "Wisdom beyond your years. It made me lament the circumstances of your departure from the faith." His expression softened. "But if you truly think it's only two… then you are more na?ve than I thought. It’s two he’s willing to give. Probably because you can do nothing about them."

  Selene said nothing. She just stared at him with an unreadable calm.

  Cassian and Lucen both straightened, emotion rising in their faces—disgust, defense, anger, something else. Selene lifted a hand before either could speak and shook her head.

  "He's right." She exhaled slowly. "I've been too complacent when it comes to the affairs of the Hallows."

  Lucen huffed, folding his arms. "It's hardly your fault. Your grandmother is the one who rules this place."

  Cassian drummed his fingers on the table. "Maybe. But Selene is the rightful heir. She should be just as watchful as her grandmother, and be the one to raise concerns when found."

  Aelun nodded. "Morgan is powerful, but she is not a god. There are demons here strong enough to challenge her if they worked together. Perhaps she knew… and simply could not move against them."

  Selene's eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Isolde, seated beside her, reached over and took her hand.

  "What are you going to do, Meme?"

  Darius answered before Selene could.

  "What are WE going to do?" he said firmly. "The answer is simple: we do the job presented to us."

  Varin nodded, satisfied.

  Selene rubbed her forehead. "There's too much to do. We have eight suspects in total to sift through. And three are powerful demons."

  "Then we pool our resources properly," Varin said. "Princess, you know these demons better than anyone. You can command their respect—or force it. I trust we can leave their investigation to you."

  Selene nodded stiffly.

  Isolde's eyes widened. "You can't possibly send her alone."

  "I'll go with her," Lucen said immediately, already rising. "I'm not supposed to be here anyway. Might as well make myself useful."

  "And I will go as well," Prince Cassian added, crossing his arms.

  "The Prince's presence is still required at the Accords," Varin reminded.

  Cassian raised a brow. "Is it really? My talents are far better suited for hunting demons. Other than Selene, who here can claim to be my equal?"

  No one answered. Even Darius didn't protest. Aelun smirked faintly.

  Varin sighed. "Very well. But please attend as many meetings as possible."

  "No promises," Cassian replied.

  Varin turned toward Darius. "Commander, I would have you accompany them as well."

  Darius frowned. "Why?"

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Varin gave Lucen and Cassian a pointed look. "I don't trust these two men to stay focused on the task. But the three of you together will keep each other… disciplined."

  Darius raised a brow. "And this has nothing to do with you wanting to watch over the Archbishops personally?"

  "I won't deny it," Varin said smoothly. "But I doubt Saintess Isolde and Sir Aelun here will allow me to stray far from our purpose."

  Isolde nodded. Aelun inclined his head in agreement. Darius relaxed a fraction.

  Eryndor leaned forward. "And what about us?"

  "Eryndor, you will come with us," Isolde said.

  Selene looked at Myrren, who straightened under her gaze.

  "She will come with me," Selene added.

  Darius glanced at the others still gathered around the table. "The rest of you remain on standby. If the Grand Master's suspicions are correct, this goes deeper than two demons and the five Archbishops. Retrieve Tomas and the others. Familiarize yourselves with the city. Be prepared to move at a moment's notice."

  Calder and the others nodded.

  Right then, the doors opened, and Lord Zaltus re-entered with a bright smile.

  "It's not poisonous," he gestured at the ignored dishes, with glee. "At least, I don't think. You humans die so easily, it's hard to tell sometimes."

  "I'm in no mood to eat," Selene said dryly.

  "I second that opinion," Isolde added.

  "Understandable. You had much to absorb." He stepped toward the table. "It seems your tasks have lined themselves before you. But allow me to add another… helpful wrinkle."

  His eyes slid toward Darius.

  Then, to the sword at his side.

  "That blade," Zaltus purred, "has bathed in the blood of countless demons and demonkin. It can detect demonic influence as easily as any Demon Heart."

  Darius snorted. "Maybe once. But in a city like this?" He unsheathed Devotion and laid the glowing blade across his lap. "There's so much demonic presence here it won't stop glowing."

  Indeed, the sword burned a steady red ember.

  Zaltus approached. With each step closer to Devotion, the glow intensified. It deepened into a blood red. With his next step, it shone like a polished ruby. When he stood just feet away until the blade's light filled the area in bright red like a dying sun.

  Zaltus stopped inches from the sword. The glow reached a near-blinding brilliance.

  "You still don't fully understand this weapon yet. It was the bane of all demons for a reason," he said with a chuckle. Then, just as casually, he brushed a finger along the blade.

  "And yet you..."

  The glow faded instantly, settling into a mild, steady red.

  "Can't even properly detect a demon standing before you," Zaltus teased.

  Darius clenched his jaw as the glow faded. He stared at Devotion in his lap.

  He had believed; he had made progress. That he had forged some real bond with the sword. That after so many nights of meditation with the sword in his lap, he had broken down at least some of its walls. But with each new thing he learned, he understood how little he understood this sword, and how lacking his attempts have been.

  "Damn it…" he muttered.

  Selene sighed, her expression softening—not pitying, but steady, grounding.

  "You've only had the sword for a few months," she said. "It's a weapon with an ego. It took my father years to learn even half of what it could do. And even then, Devotion kept growing."

  Darius nodded, though the motion was tight, reluctant. Her words helped, but only a little. If he truly understood the sword—if he could wield its full potential—he could solve half their problems right now. End the uncertainty. Strip away the lies.

  "It's still not enough. I'm still not enough," Darius mumbled.

  "At least you're self-aware," Cassian bit. Lucen chuckled. Darius frowned.

  "Enough," Selene said gently. Cassian scoffed and looked away. Lucen continued to chuckle.

  Zaltus snapped his fingers. The doors opened behind him.

  "It has been a pleasure," he said. "While I would love to continue to enjoy this... melodrama. I fear you have overstayed your welcome. I will not see you out. I trust you understand."

  They did. One by one, the group filed out.

  Aelun lingered last, as always.

  Before he could step through the doorway, Zaltus's hand shot out and clamped Aelun's wrist. Zaltus's voice dropped low, too soft for the others to hear.

  "How long do you intend to play these games with the humans?"

  Aelun's expression didn't change. When he spoke, it held the authority of something ancient. So ancient Zaltus dared not refute it.

  "Until I decide they have nothing more to offer."

  His eyes flicked toward the backs of the group. He looked at Darius's back, his hand resting on Devotion's hilt. An image of Garran's younger self layered on his form. His eyes shifted towards Selene, standing in the hall with her jaw tight and her heart heavier than she wanted to admit. The image of Morgan layered over her form.

  Aelun's gaze softened.

  "I don't foresee that happening anytime soon."

  Zaltus's lip curled into a brief, sharp snarl.

  "I hope that remains true. For all our sakes."

  He released Aelun.

  "We'll see where fate takes us. That's all we can ever do," Aelun responded.

  "Fate... heh... I've never cared for it," Zaltus answered.

  "And I doubt something as old as you truly believes in it."

  Aelun gave no answer. He only smiled as he joined the others.

  ******

  Outside the Demon Lord's mansion, the group gathered at the foot of the mansion steps, splitting instinctively into clusters.

  Selene pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling. "We have work to do."

  Lucen rolled his shoulders. "Finally! I get to enjoy myself."

  Selene looked at the group and turned away. She began to walk towards the Clock Hand Tower.

  Darius noticed first.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  Selene looked back at the three men—Lucen, Cassian, and Darius.

  Her expression was harder than steel and more tired than starlight.

  "The fighting pits are that way," she said, nodding toward the sprawling lower district of the Hallows. "You can't miss them. Myrren, go with them."

  Cassian raised a brow. "And you?"

  "I need to speak with my grandmother," she said quietly. "I'll meet you there."

  She continued towards the Tower, never looking back.

  Behind her, the three men watched her go.

  Lucen crossed his arms. Cassian scoffed a short, annoyed breath. Darius just stared after her.

  The silence between them was awkward, competitive, and teetered on dangerous. The sounds of someone clearing their throat broke the intensity of their stares. Myrren looked up at the three men, holding her notebook against her chest with both arms. She adjusted her glasses and asked innocently.

  "Shall we proceed, gentlemen? I must confess, I'm quite excited to visit these fighting pits." The three of them let out a defeated sigh as they stared into Myrren's eyes, which were filled with childlike wonder and excitement. Darius sighed a smile,

  "Yeah, let's go."