Vespera materialised from a

  shadow cast by a gnarled tree, her form solidifying as she scanned the

  horizon. The air here tasted of ash and decay, but she barely

  noticed—her focus remained entirely on the two small silhouettes

  disappearing into the distance.

  “Barely missed them,” she muttered, frustration creeping into her voice.

  Just moments ago, she’d arrived

  at the forest clearing where Seraphina’s presence had suddenly

  reappeared. The magical residue was still fresh, a lingering warmth that

  spoke of powerful dimensional magic. But before she could reach the

  exact spot, Seraphina’s signature had accelerated dramatically, shooting

  skyward and darting northwest toward the Wastelands.

  Vespera squinted at the distant

  figures. One clearly had wings—large, leathery appendages that caught

  the light as they beat against the corrupted air. The other figure

  appeared to be flying as well, though Vespera could discern no natural

  wings. Some form of spell, then.

  “So you’ve found yourself a winged patron,” she whispered, eyes narrowing. “But who?”

  The pieces were beginning to

  form a pattern in her mind. First, the Solarian blood in the forest

  clearing. Then, the high demonic magic signature unlike anything she’d

  encountered in centuries. Now, Seraphina willingly following a winged

  being directly into the Wastelands.

  A demon lord. It had to be. One powerful enough to dispatch Solarian Inquisitors with ease.

  But why take an interest in

  Seraphina? The answer came quickly enough: her network. Her knowledge of

  safe routes, patrol schedules, sympathetic contacts within Solarian

  territory. Information that would be invaluable to any demon lord

  planning incursions beyond the Wastelands.

  Vespera’s lips pressed into a thin line as she began to piece together what must have happened.

  “The inquisitors ambushed her,”

  she reasoned aloud, “and this demon lord intervened. Saved her life,

  perhaps. And now she follows them willingly.”

  It explained why the protection

  amulet remained inactive. Seraphina didn’t feel threatened. Quite the

  opposite—she likely felt indebted to her saviour.

  Vespera closed her eyes

  briefly, cursing herself. All those bedtime stories about Queen Lilith

  and the glory days of Nocturne. Tales meant to give a Seraphina hope, to

  help her understand she wasn’t alone in a world that despised her kind.

  Had those stories made Seraphina vulnerable to manipulation?

  “Malekith all over again,” she whispered, old grief surfacing.

  Her husband had been similarly

  entranced by promises of demonic restoration. His idealism, his belief

  that demonkind could reclaim their rightful place—it had led him

  straight to execution at Solarian hands. Now Seraphina appeared to be

  walking a similar path, following some charismatic demon lord with grand

  promises.

  Vespera shook her head, dispelling the memory. She needed to move quickly.

  With practiced ease, she melted

  into the shadow of a withered tree, emerging seconds later from another

  shadow nearly a hundred yards away. Shadow-walking was exhausting over

  long distances, but it was her most efficient means of pursuit. She

  couldn’t match their flight speed, but she could maintain a steady pace

  without rest.

  As she continued her pursuit,

  leaping from shadow to shadow across the blighted landscape, Vespera

  noted their trajectory. Toward the ancient mountain range where Umbra

  had once stood in all its dark splendour.

  “Of course,” she murmured bitterly. “Where else would a would-be restorer of Nocturne head?”

  The symbolism would be

  irresistible to any demon lord with aspirations of empire. Claim the

  ancient capital, sit upon the Umbral Throne—if they could break its

  seals—and declare themselves Nocturne’s rightful heir.

  And Seraphina, with her

  lifelong fascination with those old stories, would be all too eager to

  witness such a moment. To see the legends of her childhood seemingly

  come to life.

  Vespera paused atop a ridge of

  crystallised earth, watching the distant figures grow smaller against

  the ash-grey sky. She wouldn’t catch them before they reached the

  mountains—that much was clear. But she would follow. She would find

  Seraphina and make her understand the danger she courted.

  This wasn’t some glorious

  restoration. It was politics and power, the same bloody game that had

  torn Nocturne apart after Lilith’s disappearance. Whatever this demon

  lord promised, the reality would be far darker.

  “I won’t lose you too,” Vespera

  vowed, her human disguise momentarily slipping to reveal obsidian skin

  marked with shadowy patterns. “Not to the same delusion that took him

  from me.”

  With renewed determination, she

  continued her pursuit toward the distant mountains, where the ruins of

  Umbra waited like a tomb of broken dreams.

  * * *

  Vespera slipped between shadows

  with practiced ease, her form becoming one with the darkness between

  crumbling buildings. The ancient streets of Umbra’s outskirts provided

  ample cover—fallen columns, half-collapsed walls, and twisted metal that

  once formed elegant arches now served as perfect vantage points for a

  shadow demon.

  She’d followed them for hours,

  maintaining a careful distance. Shadow-walking across the Wastelands had

  drained her considerably, forcing her to preserve her remaining energy

  for stealth rather than speed. The demon lord and Seraphina had landed

  near what remained of Umbra’s outer ring, giving Vespera the opportunity

  to close the gap.

  Now at the border of what once

  was the most magnificent demonic city in existence, Vespera surveyed the

  ruins with a mixture of awe and sorrow. The outer rings lay in complete

  devastation—centuries of warfare between rival demon lords had reduced

  grand boulevards to rubble and ornate buildings to hollow shells. Yet as

  she looked toward the city centre, she could see the three innermost

  rings remained largely intact, their black stone structures still

  standing in defiance of time and conflict.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Five centuries,” she whispered to herself, “and still they fight over the corpse of an empire.”

  She crept closer, using the

  shadows of a collapsed archway to mask her presence. Her obsidian skin

  absorbed what little light filtered through the perpetual haze above

  Umbra, rendering her nearly invisible when she remained still.

  Vespera was no fool. If this

  demon lord was powerful enough to slaughter Solarian Inquisitors with

  ease, they would likely sense a direct approach. But shadow demons were

  excellent assassins, capable of eliminating stronger foes if they caught

  them unprepared. One precise strike from the darkness, and she could

  incapacitate even a powerful adversary long enough to grab Seraphina and

  escape.

  The plan formed in her mind

  with cold precision. Locate them. Observe. Strike when the demon lord

  was distracted. Seize Seraphina. Shadow-walk to safety. Simple.

  Effective.

  She poured her remaining energy

  into concealing her presence, suppressing her magical signature to

  nearly nothing. The city itself helped—ambient demonic energy saturated

  every stone, creating a background noise that further obscured her.

  Other demons lurked in the

  ruins as well. She sensed them hiding in collapsed buildings and

  underground chambers—remnants of Nocturne’s population, likely cultists

  who still deified their vanished queen. Their presence created

  additional magical interference, further masking Vespera’s approach.

  “Fools,” she thought bitterly. “Still waiting for a queen who abandoned them.”

  For centuries, these cultists

  maintained that Lilith hadn’t abandoned her empire but had ascended to

  some higher plane. Vespera had once believed similar tales, but reality

  had hardened her. After Malekith’s execution, she’d come to accept that

  Lilith had likely perished during the Shattering, leaving her subjects

  to centuries of decline and warfare.

  She’d never admitted this

  belief to Seraphina, of course. The stories of Queen Lilith’s glorious

  realm had helped her granddaughter cope with the trauma inflicted by

  Solarian inquisitors. Those legends had given Seraphina purpose when

  little else could.

  Vespera pushed these thoughts

  aside. Sentimentality was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.

  Seraphina was just one block away, her familiar magical signature a

  beacon to Vespera’s senses.

  “…surprised how much has remained intact,” came Seraphina’s voice, carried on the still air.

  Vespera froze, pressing herself against a wall as she strained to listen.

  “The maintenance golems,” replied another feminine voice—melodious and sensual, and yet somehow commanding.

  Vespera’s brow furrowed. A

  female demon lord? Unusual. In the last five centuries, only one female

  demon had risen to significant power, and she controlled territory far

  to the north.

  “They were created to repair

  structural damage. They must have been working continuously all this

  time,” the voice continued. “Follow me, the Imperial Spire should still

  stand at the centre.”

  Vespera leaned forward

  cautiously, trying to glimpse the speaker. She caught sight of Seraphina

  first—her granddaughter looked unharmed, even energised despite the

  atmosphere that typically drained even half-demons. Beside her walked a

  taller figure with wings folded against her back, obscuring her

  silhouette from Vespera’s angle.

  The pair moved toward the

  intact portion of the city, following what once had been a grand radial

  boulevard. Vespera slipped from her hiding place, moving parallel to

  them through the shadows of destroyed buildings.

  “Who are you?” Vespera whispered, eyes fixed on the winged demon. “What do you want with my granddaughter?”

  She would find out soon enough.

  And when she did, she would be ready to strike—to free Seraphina from

  whatever spell of obligation or manipulation this demon lord had cast

  over her.

  * * *

  Lilith surveyed the ruins of

  Umbra from above, her wings beating steadily against the hot, acrid air

  of the Wastelands. Beside her, Sera glided on the magical wings Lilith

  had conjured, their ethereal glow contrasting with the ashen landscape

  below.

  What struck Lilith first wasn’t

  just the destruction—though that was extensive—but the sheer scale of

  the city. The Umbra she remembered from Infinity had been impressive,

  but this… this was colossal. The three intact inner circles alone seemed

  larger than entire capital cities she’d seen in the game.

  “It’s enormous,” she murmured, banking slightly to circle above what remained of the fourth ring.

  “You sound surprised,” Sera called over the wind.

  Lilith caught herself. “It’s… different seeing it after so long.”

  In truth, the disparity between

  game and reality was staggering. What had been convenient game

  dimensions had translated to something far more imposing in this world.

  She’d spent countless hours designing Umbra’s layout in Infinity,

  grinding resources to construct the maintenance golems that would

  automatically repair any damage to her city. That investment apparently

  paid dividends—without those tireless constructs, nothing would have

  survived a millennium of neglect and warfare.

  They descended toward a large

  plaza in the third ring, their feet touching down on polished black

  stone that gleamed despite the perpetual twilight of the Wastelands.

  Lilith folded her wings against her back while Sera’s magical ones

  dissipated into motes of light.

  “Be careful,” Lilith warned, scanning their surroundings. “We’re still being watched.”

  “Can you tell who it is?” Sera asked, her hand instinctively moving to the dagger at her hip.

  Lilith shook her head. “No. The magical noise is too intense. But they’ve been following us since we entered the Wastelands.”

  “Should we confront them?”

  “Not yet. Let them make the first move. For now, we have other priorities.”

  As they began walking through

  the wide boulevard that led toward the city centre, Lilith noticed

  movement in the shadows. Lesser demons—imps, minor succubi, and what

  appeared to be low-ranking incubi—scurried away at their approach,

  ducking into doorways or alleyways.

  “They seem afraid,” Sera whispered.

  “Pay them no mind,” Lilith

  replied, deciding not to waste time with these minor demons. She kept

  her pace steady, heading toward the heart of Umbra.

  The architecture grew more

  impressive as they approached the inner circles. Buildings of black

  stone veined with pulsing purple energy lined the streets. Ornate

  carvings depicting demonic victories and celebrations adorned every

  surface. Statues of various demon lords—and many of Lilith herself—stood

  at intersections, though many were damaged or defaced.

  “Is that a statue of you?” Sera asked, pointing to a particularly large sculpture showing a winged figure with a crown.

  “I think so,” Lilith answered,

  studying it. The face was her own, though rendered with more malevolence

  than she felt comfortable with.

  “And what about that building? The architectural style suggests—”

  Lilith laughed, the sound echoing off the stone facades. “Sera, do you truly expect me to know every building in the city?”

  Sera’s cheeks darkened with a blush. “I’m sorry. My curiosity got the better of me.”

  “Still,” Sera said, gazing around, “I’m surprised how much has remained intact.”

  “The maintenance golems,”

  Lilith explained. “They were created to repair structural damage. They

  must have been working continuously all this time.”

  They emerged from the boulevard

  into a vast circular plaza. At its centre rose the Imperial Spire—a

  tower of midnight-black obsidian that stretched nearly a thousand feet

  into the air. Unlike the other structures, it appeared completely

  untouched by time or conflict, its surface unmarred and gleaming.

  “Follow me, the Imperial Spire

  should still stand at the centre,” Lilith said, feeling a strange

  mixture of familiarity and alienation. “If I’m going to manage this

  mess, I’ll need to access the control room inside.”

  She wondered what form that

  control would take in this reality. In Infinity, “managing” Umbra had

  meant opening a menu interface when her character leaned against a

  magical projection of her territory. Here, she suspected things would be

  considerably more complex—and more tangible.

  As they crossed the plaza

  toward the tower’s entrance, Lilith felt the unseen watcher’s attention

  intensify. Whatever—or whoever—it was, they were getting closer.

  “Stay alert,” she whispered to Sera. “Our shadow hasn’t given up yet.”