Ashmedai

  The tunnel was old—ancient, even—its walls crumbling in places where time had eaten away at the stone, leaving cracks and moss built overtime. The medieval structure above me, long abandoned, was little more than a ruin now, its once-grand purpose buried beneath the ages. I moved through the darkness with practiced ease, my cloak pulled low over my face, my body a mere shadow against the dim light.

  I heard the leakage of water running somewhere, adding a damp and squelchy atmosphere around as I ventured deeper into the ruined cave.

  The only illumination came from the faint, dark-crimson particles of demonic energy lingering in the air, like drifting embers that never burned out. They swayed as I moved, reacting to my presence, as if whispering among themselves.

  My boots made no sound against the uneven ground as I crossed the passage without any rush, weaving through the debris of long-forgotten history, until I reached a crack in the earth above. A sliver of the night sky peered through. With a swift, silent motion, I pulled myself through the narrow opening, my feet levitating in the air and emerged into the surface world once more.

  I was in the Basilisk' world.

  Lord Agares had sent me on this mission—a delicate one at that. In the enemies territory, I weaved through the secret path untouched for many centuries.

  The ash’ari were beings of power, ancient and proud, their alliances not given lightly. And yet, here I was, seeking their cooperation on Lord Agares’s orders.

  The land stretched before me like a corpse of a forgotten titan. A vast mountain plain, barren and lifeless, sprawled under the cold night. The dry, blackened remains of a forest stood in the distance, trees twisted and dead, stripped of all vitality.

  Just by a sniff, I could feel the venom pervading the air, thick and unforgiving. In the distance, ponds of water turned to poison, dark bubbles bursting every few seconds.

  This place, a remnant of the ancient war—a scar that had never healed, I could only imagine the battle that had levelled this piece of land for no inhabitancy whatsoever. The air was still, as if even the wind refused to stir in a land so steeped in memories of destruction.

  I advanced without hesitation, following the mountain trail. My senses sharpened as I noticed the flickering of demonic energy, faint but present, whispering along the edges of reality. There was an illusion spell placed at the cavern’s mouth, just by the subtle charge around the edges, I could feel the toll it wrought over the space around it.

  ‘Visseyit did a good job setting up this spell. I have to give him this.’ I murmured to myself, giving the spell another look.

  Subtle, well-crafted, but not beyond my perception. The spell wove itself into the darkness, meant to obscure the entrance from eyes.

  I stepped through without hesitation, the space folded inward, pulling me along without any change in the atmosphere around it.

  The moment I crossed the threshold, the cavern’s interior shifted. Dim torches ignited along the walls, their unnatural flames casting a ghostly glow. The inside was no mere cave—it was a meeting ground of the ancients. An ancient tabulate structure stretched before me, its design eerily ceremonial. Several thrones were placed opposite each other, carved from dark stone, their designs marked with the symbols of the old world. Between them lay a long table, sturdy and imposing, its presence ensuring that none could resort to immediate hostility without first facing their rivals across its length.

  I knew them all. All of them brought here by the mission I’d succeed in before.

  This was the heart of my mission. By Lord Agares’s decree, I was to contact the ash’ari clans and secure their cooperation. A delicate, dangerous task.

  And, I couldn’t underestimate them, all of them were elders of one of the ash’ari clans, each holding a certain part of history itself.

  Seated before me were the representatives, each embodying the might of their respective clans.

  At the head of the basilisk delegation sat the elder of Clan Kaedrith, second only to the Arudecrus bloodlines in both strength and political station. His presence was imposing, his gaze unblinking, his skin appeared almost serpentine, a deep obsidian, veins of molten gold pulsing beneath the surface. He did not greet me, nor acknowledge my arrival—his stillness was absolute, a predator that had no need for unnecessary movement until the moment of charge.

  Beside him sat the elder of the Clan Ysarith, one of the ancient Basilisk bloodlines—strong, but still beneath Arudecrus in standing. His form was coiled, his pupils narrow and sharp, a testament to his kind’s mastery of patience and death. His ghostly pale skin shimmered faintly under the dim light, his expression unreadable.

  To my left, the Fenrir clans had sent their representative—the elder of Clan Skarnulf, a name that carried the weight of countless battlefields. He was broad-shouldered, his face covered in a dark fur like beard that seemed to shift between shadow and substance. His eyes gleamed with an animalistic sheen, but they held a poised intelligence, a predator’s wisdom. His voice cut through the silence first.

  “You have brought us here, demon. You had best make it quick. After that stunt your peer pulled a while back, the patrols and investigations have become more thorough.” His words were sharp, calculated.

  “Even Lord Embermaw has taken notice of your little act, causing the delegations to become more cautious over the Daemon Exidium’s next move.” He snarled, almost holding back his contempt.

  He was not wrong.

  Visseyit’s recklessness had drawn unwanted attention. His rampage had left scars that had yet to fade, making negotiations like these more complicated than they should be. But in that chaos, an opportunity had arisen—one that I intended to seize.

  “I understand your concerns, elders,” I said smoothly, my voice calm, measured. “And I am aware of what my peer has done to your people. But I ask you to trust me when I say—I am not here as a threat. I am here as an envoy of His Majesty. And it is our mutual interests that have brought us together today.”

  The Phoenix delegation remained silent for now. Their representative, the elder of Clan Radix, watched me with piercing cooper eyes. His long, fiery beard shifted like living flame, his regal robe glowing faintly with pulsating runes mended using some magic. He was patient, waiting, assessing. Phoenixes were creatures of rebirth, of cycles—they understood the weight of time better than most.

  Even rare, were their interference in any social or political standing, after the massacre of their linage in the past.

  Then, there was the Hamadryad representative—the elder of Clan Yllathis. She was unlike the others. Her presence was serene yet profound, as if she were an extension of the earth itself. Her skin held the vitality of the oldest forests, her pristine white lashes shimmering like stardust. She did not speak, but I could feel the weight of her gaze, the complexity behind her silence.

  She shifted silently, her presence alone felt like a threat.

  And finally, there was the last of the gathered elders—the Titan’s representative. He came from the Clan Orythkar, a name that carried as much weight as Vivagrandus. Unlike the others, he was unassuming. An old man, his beard long and grey, his robes simple. No grandeur, no display of power. Yet the way he sat, the way he carried himself—it was clear. If anyone in this room could match me in raw strength, it was him, alone.

  I moved with confidence through the seats and soon began the negotiation.

  I took my seat at the end of the long table, meeting their gazes without hesitation.

  “There is no need for deception here,” I began, my fingers lightly drumming against the cold stone. “I am sure each of you understands the state of the world—how the times have changed, and what that change has brought. War may not have come yet, but the tremors have already begun. And when it does arrive, it will not discriminate between demon, pantheon, basilisk, or titan.”

  “If I may be more casual,” I held their gazes, slow, deliberate, tension building in their eyes. “This ultimatum may as well be worse than the ancient war.”

  The Fenrir elder scoffed. “Spare us the theatrics. You speak as if you are here to offer salvation. But we all know what the Daemon Exidium are. You do not offer peace without price.”

  His canines bared at me for a moment, and I let his gaze settle over me. “Every single one of us here are aware of all the atrocities your kind has caused just for your lust for power and recognition.”

  A smirk touched my lips. “Then let us speak of that price, shall we?”

  There was no need to play innocent.

  I leaned forward slightly, my gaze unwavering.

  “Our interests align, elders. You may not trust my kind, but you cannot ignore the coming storm. The Daemon Exidium—His Majesty—do not seek to rule the ash’ari. We seek understanding. Cooperation. A mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  The Phoenix elder finally spoke, his voice smooth as molten gold. “And what, precisely, do you propose?”

  A slow smile curled at my lips.

  “The world is shifting as we speak. We stand on the precipice of something far greater than petty wars. You have all felt it, haven’t you? The imbalance. The silence before the storm.”

  I let my words settle, let the weight of the moment sink in.

  Then, I made my move.

  “I offer you knowledge that has not been touched. I offer you power far greater than anything out ancestors could’ve wielded. And, above all—”

  I let my gaze sweep across them, unwavering.

  “—I offer you survival.”

  The Fenrir scoffed, his fangs bared in a vicious grin. His eyes, sharp and predatory, gleamed in the dimly lit cavern, reflecting the flickering energies that swirled around us. His voice was a low growl, simmering with barely contained aggression.

  “Know your place, Seraphim. You offer us survival?” He let out a short, derisive laugh, his claws lightly scraping against the stone table. “You demons have grown quite arrogant. Hopefully, you haven’t forgotten on what bases your history was built.”

  I tilted my head slightly, offering him a mocking smile and a curt bow, exaggerated in its politeness.

  “Is that the reason why all the ash’ari remain shackled to their primal ways?” I mused in simple curiosity, my voice deliberately casual. “Your forefathers ascended effortlessly, yet here you all are, still struggling in the dirt with the knowledge not even close to what your forefathers had garnered.”

  The room tensed. A low rumble of discontent spread among the gathered elders. The Fenrir elder’s fur bristled, his lips curling in a snarl, but he did not lunge. He was not a fool. None of them were. This was a meeting of tacticians and survivors, not mindless beasts.

  Before the atmosphere could turn hostile, a deep voice cut through the tension like a blade through flesh.

  “So,” the titan elder spoke, his tone steady and measured, yet carrying the weight of absolute authority. “What do you propose we do, Seraphim? Simply betray our kind and join your conquest? If that is the case, then you are mistaken.” His ancient eyes fixed on me, unreadable, yet assessing. “We are not so desperate as to sell our souls to the Daemon Exidium. And, if it’s power you offer, then...what better could the Exidium race do than all the ash’ari combined.”

  There was a subtle mocking gesture in his voice, hinting at something deeper, something long forgotten.

  A chorus of grumbles followed his words. The others exchanged wary glances, their own grievances bubbling to the surface.

  “And what exactly do you offer us in return?” The Hamadryad elder questioned, her ethereal presence almost dreamlike. “Power? Security? Or are we merely meant to be foot soldiers in your grander schemes? Is that what Agares intends to do with us.” She scoffed, her lips moving gently, like the stars changing placement in the sky.

  The Basilisk elder, silent until now, let out a low chuckle. His scaled fingers tapped against the stone armrest of his throne, his amusement clear.

  “Perhaps we should be asking a different question,” he said, his forked tongue flicking out briefly. “Why should we ally with a race that couldn’t even hold onto a single world?” His scarlet eyes gleamed as he leaned forward, a smirk curling on his reptilian lips. “Tell me, Seraphim Ashmedai, how does it feel? After so much time and effort, to lose the Orcen world to a mere human and his pet dragon?”

  The insult hung in the air like a blade poised to strike.

  But, I did not react. Not giving him the satisfaction he desired from me.

  Instead, I let silence stretch, watching as their smug expressions flickered ever so slightly, waiting for my response. And then, finally, I let out a quiet chuckle of my own, giving them a curt smile.

  “I suppose you aren’t fully aware of the true story,” I said, my voice smooth and unconcerned. “Then let me enlighten you.”

  Their gazes sharpened as I leaned back against my chair, unbothered by their veiled hostility.

  “That human,” I said, “is nothing more than a plaything. A mere piece on Lord Agares’ board. His Majesty has always known of his existence. He simply finds amusement in making things…difficult for me.” I smiled, a cold, knowing smile. “This is all just a game to him.”

  Murmurs broke out among the elders. Some scoffed, others exchanged skeptical glances. But the Fenrir elder remained still, his eyes locked onto mine.

  “Then why,” he asked, voice low, “did this plaything destroy an entire battle group of your elite demons? Why did he slay a Noros descendant? I believe you are their patron."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The room grew silent again. They wanted an answer. They wanted to know whether this ‘plaything’ was truly insignificant—or whether he was a growing threat.

  I met their gazes evenly, allowing the weight of my words to sink in.

  “He is not an obstacle,” I said calmly. “Just a puppet crafted for His Majesty’s amusement. And if His Majesty ever deems him unworthy…” My smile widened, my crimson eyes gleaming. “Then I will be the one to end his miserable life.”

  Some looked unconvinced. Others intrigued. The game had only just begun.

  The tiitan elder’s voice, slow and deliberate, cut through the murmurs of the gathered ash’ari.

  “But you should be careful?” His ancient eyes, heavy with wisdom and something dangerously close to amusement, settled on me. “Even an insect will crawl to attack if it sees its life is in danger.”

  The others listened intently, their gazes fixed on me, waiting to see how I would respond.

  “You expect nothing from him,” the titan continued, his voice like the rumbling of shifting mountains. “Yet the truth remains in clear-sight—he defeated an entire battle group of your elite demons. He ended the life of a Noros."

  A silence followed, heavy and suffocating.

  I remained still, my expression unchanging, my fingers resting idly on the armrest of my chair. They wanted to see a reaction. Doubt. A flicker of anger. Anything that would betray uncertainty.

  They would get none of it.

  Instead, I exhaled softly, letting my gaze drift across the gathered elders, taking in their silent judgment.

  “And what of it?” I finally said, my voice calm, almost amused. “Does the fall of a single Noros make him a god? Should I now tremble before this human, as if he were my equal?”

  The fenrir elder scoffed, shaking his head. “You dismiss him too easily. A human—just a human—bested your kind in battle. That is no small feat. The humans are supposedly the weakest of all races in this vast universe—yet one such has grown beyond the shackles of his kind. Now, growing into a potential to even challenge the likes of you.”

  I leaned forward slightly, my crimson eyes gleaming. “And yet, what do you truly believe? That he is special? That he is some prophesized warrior meant to bring ruin to the Daemon Exidium? To stop us?” I let my lips curl into a smirk. “No. He is nothing but a tool, shaped by forces beyond his understanding—even that victory is just smoke and mirrors. His victories? Allowed, not earned. His survival? A gift, not an achievement. He is even lucky enough to keep his head for this long.”

  I could see the doubt flicker in some of their expressions. Good.

  “That human exists,” I continued, “because Lord Agares allows him to exist. Because I allow him to exist. He is nothing more than a pawn in a far greater game.” I met the titan elder’s gaze once more, my voice dropping into something colder. “Do not mistake momentary defiance for power. Even a flickering candle can seem bright in the dark—but it is easily snuffed out.”

  A long silence followed. The weight of my words settled in the chamber like a thick fog.

  Then, the basilisk elder chuckled, a dry and slithering sound. “And yet, for all your certainty, you have not killed him. Is it perhaps fear that stops you...or Agares?”

  I let his words settle in, before he spoke again. “Because, from the way I see it, you are being the mindless fool that follows a man who seeks pleasure in stupid circumstances. Even if he is a tool, what chances are there, that he might come to bite at your throats, if given due time. I suggest you get rid of that insect when he’s still testing his potential.”

  I did not respond immediately. Instead, I simply frowned, looking directly at the ash’ari who rounded me around the table.

  Some truths did not need to be spoken aloud.

  Then from the side, the titan elder shifted slightly, bringing the attention of all the others to him.

  “Then, let me rephrase his words, Ashmedai. Many amongst the ash’ari are now aware of this dragon, that this human commands.” His voice was smooth, almost too calm, like a blade ready to strike at any given moment. “Tell us, that dragon, which clan does it belong to?”

  I simply gave him a look, not expecting much.

  Even if they weren’t aware of the true existence of Mordian, they would be, given due time. And, perhaps, it could work as a better bargaining chip to furth develop our alliance.

  “Yes, Lord Orythkar, I believe you all must know. The dragon that was sighted in the orcen realm weeks ago, is the final living descendant from their perished race.” I let my words sink in, their expression growing impatient with every passing second. “Indeed, Mordian Astrionyx still lives—the lost prince of the dragon race very much lives—, and is now bonded to a human.”

  This time, the elders didn’t hold back their expressions from shifting into something more obvious. Shock, uncertainty, but more so, fear...

  Fear, that the lost prince of the dragons, the race that had ruled the ash’ari longer than any clan had existed, still lived.

  And, the insecurity of what Mordian’s interference in this war could bring. He was that one piece that could bring forth the true clans as his allies. Even, I, couldn’t touch the Pantheons, or Leviathans, and just from their expressions, I knew for a fact, about the long rooted loyalty that the pantheon race held for the dragons.

  “Then,” Lord Orythkar spoke, his aged eyes falling over me, his scrutiny palpable. “what makes you so sure, that the other races, whom hold the deepest grudges against your kind, wouldn’t band together if they were to learn that Prince Mordian still lives?” He said, each words sharp and hostile this time.

  “Because, after Agares broke the oath that prevented us from engaging each other in a ruthless battle, what makes you certain, Seraphim?”

  I scoffed, more emotion in my remark this time. “Then, you propose that even you all will betray the thoughts of any cooperation if Mordian comes begging at your door step?”

  I brought my hand forward, more as a finality of my statement. “Even if Mordian were to do so, how long do you think it would take him? And what can one dragon do now, after I, who butchered his own kin stays alive?”

  I titled my head to Orythkar, our eyes met, gazes locked intently. “So tell me, Lord Orythkar—who truly bears the weight of betrayal: the dragon who mourns, or the demon who remembers?”

  I let the silence linger, then stepped back just slightly. “I’ll give you time. To grieve, or to decide. Whichever comes first.”

  ***

  I moved through the endless corridors of the palace, each step echoing in the still air as I traced the familiar path forward, my mind still reeling from the interaction I had shared with the ash’ari elders.

  I moved at an adequate speed, walking to His Majesty’s chambers, looking around the palace.

  The scent of smoldering embers still clung to my clothes, a remnant of the ash’ari elders’ final moments. Their voices, once proud and laced with veiled contempt, had been reduced to nothing but echoes in the void—the bait I’d thrown at them was adequate, and they had taken it like hungry animals. I had seen to that. Now, standing at the threshold of Lord Agares’s private chamber, I drew in a slow breath before stepping forward.

  The chamber was dim, lit only by the crimson light of the moon outside. Lord Agares stood before the vast open window, his white hair unbound, flowing past his shoulders like cascading frost. He wore nothing befitting his title—just a simple white blouse and dark trousers, as if kingship itself had become a triviality. The sight of him like this was unsettling, yet fitting. A king weary of his crown, yet unable to set it aside.

  He did not turn to acknowledge my presence. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the sky, on the dark clouds that swirled in restless turmoil, on the blood-red moon that loomed above, shrouding the world beneath its baleful glow. A sky befitting our kind.

  At last, he spoke, his voice calm, quiet, yet carrying the weight of eternity. “How did the rendezvous with the ash’ari elders go?”

  I bowed, enough to just see the ends of his boots. “Yes, Your Majesty, regarding that matter, I have dealt with them.”

  Lord Agares hummed softly, not in satisfaction nor disappointment—just acknowledgment. His eyes did not waver from the sight beyond. The silence stretched between us like an abyss, endless and unmoving. I did not dare to break it. I simply waited, watching the slow rise and fall of his breath, waiting for the storm that lay dormant within him to stir.

  Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

  “Ashmedai, do you know why I started this war?”

  I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. The answer should have been obvious—vengeance against the ash’ari, reclamation of what was taken, the survival of our kind—which had been threatened by those brutes that called themselves deities. But I knew better than to speak presumptuously in the presence of my lord. And so, I answered truthfully.

  “No, my lord.”

  A faint chuckle left his lips, but it was devoid of mirth. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that I could see the ghost of an expression crossing his features—something lost, something wistful.

  “Sometimes,” he said, “I don’t know why I’m even fighting. It feels like wading through a fog with no way out.”

  His fingers tightened on the windowsill, knuckles pale against the darkened wood.

  “And perhaps,” he continued, voice elusive, layered, “it’s to rule those sickening ash’ari who despised us. Those who drove us to the brink of extinction. Who deemed us unworthy of even existing on this plain of reality with them.”

  A pause. A sigh.

  “But sometimes, it feels like this fighting is not worth what I thought it was.”

  The weight in his voice was unfamiliar. Lord Agares, the unrelenting force of our people, the demon king who had led us through ceaseless wars, now stood before me, unravelling in his own thoughts for once.

  “Yet, sometimes…” His voice dipped, softer, uncertain. “It feels like the only reason why I’ve kept struggling in the past. Sometimes, I feel like I’m so close to reaching that reason. That purpose which has kept me alive, to not succumb.”

  His hand reached toward the window, fingers ghosting over the glass, as if grasping at something unseen. Then, just as quickly, they curled into a loose fist, retreating.

  “Sometimes, it feels like it is so far away that I can never reach it. But...that very reason pushes me. No one understood my purpose, not before, not now. I saw them butcher our kin in cold blood, experiment on us to understand our biology, so that it could be of use to them.”

  The words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of centuries. I watched him, waiting, but he did not speak again. He had drifted too deep into his own thoughts, lost in that endless search for meaning.

  And so, I remained silent, standing behind him in quiet reverence, watching as the crimson moon cast its cursed light upon the land we had bled for, the land he had fought for, and perhaps, the land he was still struggling to understand.

  And then, as though shedding one skin for another, something shifted in him. The atmosphere changed, and I felt it immediately. The weariness that had weighed on his voice moments ago dissipated, replaced by something more deliberate, more reminiscent. His posture straightened, his shoulders subtly drawing back. When he spoke again, his tone had altered—not as a man burdened by war, but as one recounting a past too distant to grasp yet too vivid to forget.

  “Primordial,” he murmured, his voice now laced with something I could not quite place. “He was like my brother.”

  I felt my breath still in my chest.

  “He was one of the oldest beings that have existed since the dawn of time. At one point, we were brothers, testing the limits of the world, trying to figure out how far and wide this universe stretched.”

  There was something unsettling about the way he spoke—detached, yet deeply immersed in the memory. Like he was seeing something I never could.

  “He was all-knowing, far more intelligent than any being I have ever known, having grasp of more insight into these edicts that controlled this universe than anyone,” Lord Agares continued, his fingers absently tracing the frame of the window. “But he was a coward.”

  The shift in his tone was palpable—sharp, edged with something bitter...anger.

  “Afraid,” he said, “that his curiosity might fracture the balance of the universe. He feared that by seeking too much, by questioning too deeply, he would disrupt the very fabric that held everything together.”

  Lord Agares finally turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes gleaming under the scarlet light. “And on the other hand, I was different—I wanted to learn more. I wanted to understand what this thing called the 'universe' truly was. What these laws that this plain of reality abide to? What is time, space and life?”

  “How could these constructs alone determine the weight of one life from another? If one man lived poorly, and one with everything he could ask for? Who is it, that decided that?” He said, an edge growing at the back of his tongue.

  “I wouldn’t dare say some vast thing watches us—laughing, maybe, or just...waiting—but sometimes, when we’re at our worst, it feels like something out there already knew we’d end up like this.”

  He exhaled, a sound that carried the weight of ancient regret. “And, when I tried to understand the things beyond our scope, Primordial tried to stop me. Arguing that I was foolish to go beyond what I didn’t understand.”

  He waited for a moment, as if reminiscing over some forgotten past. “But, I argued that if such a thing was possible, then, wasn’t it right that someone were to claim that knowledge, that power—the power that could alter the precipice on which we exist on.”

  A shadow passed over his face, the gleam in his eyes momentarily dulled. “And in return for trying to do so, it caused fractures in our bond.”

  The silence that followed was deeper than before, filled with something heavier, something unresolved. I remained still, waiting, watching the way his hands flexed ever so slightly, as though grasping at something long lost.

  Lord Agares had become a different man before my eyes. No longer just the demon king, no longer just a ruler lost in war, but something far older, something that had seen the very foundations of existence tremble beneath the weight of its own questions.

  I swallowed, bracing myself for what would come next. Because I knew, whatever he was about to say, it would not be the end of this story.

  He exhaled again, shrugging the exclamations as he turned and took a seat, his hand waved, urging me to take the seat opposite him.

  I did so immediately, knowing not to anger him by going against his order.

  “Now,” he said, his indifference remained the same, his dark eyes reflecting the shade similar to the moon outside. “I believe you deserve a reward for all the handwork you have done, Ashmedai.”

  A small pouch appeared into existence in the middle of his palm, he placed it down and pushed it in my direction.

  “Your Majesty.” I urged, standing from my seat, bowing. “I did not fulfil my sworn duties for a reward. I am merely a man driven by the desires you have. Just by being praised by you for my handwork is more than enough.”

  My gaze lifted slightly, seeing Lord Agares cross his legs, his eyes relentless, but I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until what he wanted was done.

  “If I don’t reward my warriors when it is due, I believe it would make a bad impression. Take it, Ashmedai, you ought to do better if given accolades for your success.” He said, and my bow deepened farther.

  “I am ever so grateful of His Majesty’s kindness.” I spoke in reverence, straightening as I took the pouch and simply put it aside for the time being.

  After a moment of silence, Lord Agares looked to be in deep thought, his brows eased, his gaze lingering on the window frame and the moon outside.

  Then, an almost imperceptible, mocking smirk played on his lips, titling his head toward me. “Ashmedai?” That’s all he said, but the expression, the word alone sent shivers jolting through my spine, my knees felt weak.

  There was no display of power, no emotion on his face, nothing. Just something that looked beyond detachment.

  I pushed my body down and forced myself to kneel. “Have I done something to offend you, Lord Agares?” (?T?T?)

  “No,” he said back, his reply slow and deliberate. “Out of all of the Seraphims, I found your productiveness fulfilling.”

  I wanted to show appreciation for my years of service and loyalty to him, and the willingness to be of more use to His Majesty, but I knew better when to show which characteristic.

  Right now, this was a test.

  “Your loyalty is...admirable.” He said, almost in a jeer. “I wonder—would it remain so if I were no longer watching? I assume the case is with your peers?”

  I froze. His words were a strike I had predicted long ago, but when struck, I couldn’t evade it.

  His demeanour remained the same, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, what his purpose was for asking such a question? Why he would demand to test my loyalty now?

  But, all I could do was try to be the servant I’d been to my Master, his most loyal piece in this grand plan. “If His Majesty so believes that I have been unfaithful in my service, one word of dissatisfaction—I shall present you my core right at this moment.” I said, my hand drawing near my chest as I spoke.

  Just as my fingers tore through the fabric of my robes, blood squirmed out as my fingers began piercing skin, my arm reaching deeper as I felt my core react.

  “Stop,” His Majesty said, my arm stopped only inches away from my core, burning with vitality and keeping my body alive.

  His gaze lingered over me, his eyes looked satisfied, expression shifted by the slightest as he gave me a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips—quiet, almost wry, as if privately entertained by something only he understood. But in his gaze, there was nothing warm. Only that distant, indifferent calm he wore like a crown.

  He bemused. “I know of your loyalty better than anyone, Ashmedai. And, I believe you will continue to be of use to me in the future.”

  He tilted his head slightly, the smile still lingering—soft, unreadable, and far too calculated to be mistaken for affection.

  My bow deepened, until it came as close to the floor itself. “Never have I had the thought of betrayal ever cross my mind, Your Majesty. And if you found fault in the other Seraphim, I shall do my best to mend their ways from now on. Because, their poor reflection shows off my own negligence as their leader.”

  Lord Agares seemed almost amused. “No, leave it as it is. Everyone is playing their part well. I wouldn’t want there to be any distortions in my plan.”

  Just then Lord Agares turned to me, a slight pull of his lips evident. “Ashmedai, last I remember, you visited Lilith...did she provide you with necessary information of that ancient race and their magic?”

  I nodded immediately. “Yes, Lord. I’ve been given a briefing from her personally about the ancient magic that was left behind by ‘that’ race. But, for the time, only Lilith alone seems to understand it’s purpose and how it can be utilised. She urged that she needs more time to formulate a full briefing of ‘their’ left off technology.”

  “Good,” he replied, leaning deeper into his seat.

  I wanted to ask, my curiosity gnawed at me, and I suppose Lord Agares caught on that.

  With a single movement of his eyes, I asked. “If I may be allowed to ask, who were those people, Lord Agares? Their technology, magic…they looked like something ancient. Something that shouldn’t exist, yet everything I laid eyes on seemed to be something that looked magical.” I said, shock evident in my tone. “Their technology unstudied till this day, their magic, unmatched and superior to anything I’ve seen even when we excavated the ancient ruins… it was as if their past itself refused to stay buried.”

  His Majesty seemed to be in deep thought, his crimson eyes resembled rubies, gaze almost threatening. “Do you truly wish to know who they were?” He asked, and I could feel my throat dry, eyes shake, skin crawl. “Would you be able to handle the truth of what happened to those people?”

  I kept a straight face. “If His Majesty deems me worthy, then, I wish to know who these people of that forgotten race are? Just how could they be lost when they had magic which far surpassed that of the ash’ari or us?”

  “Fine,” he mused, ordering me to walk closer, and I did. “These people were men who Primordial favoured. They were beings that even the ash’ari feared in the passed for their potential and knowledge.” His finger pointed forward, suffused by a bright spark as I knelt in front of him and his finger touched my forehead as I felt a massive strain.

  So many memories, from so long ago, and what I saw left me undone. Not broken…just aware.