Five Days Ago
"Damn that hound…" His voice was barely above a whisper as he lay sprawled on the frozen ground, his breath ragged, chest rising and falling in painful intervals. A sharp cough wracked his body, sending a fresh trickle of blood down his chin. The night air was mercilessly cold, stinging his wounds like thousands of invisible needles.
His golden eyes fluttered open, barely registering the gray stone fortress looming before him. The Stygian Citadel. A foreboding structure, its towers piercing the heavens, as if they sought to imprison the very sky.
"Where am I again…?" He forced himself to focus, his thoughts hazy.
A sharp pang in his limbs made him groan. His body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together. The white bandages wrapped around his arms were loose, stained with dried blood and the bitter scent of herbs.
"Someone treated my wounds…" He sniffed the wrappings, grimacing at the strong medicinal odor.
He needed strength—desperately. His energy reserves were critically low, barely enough to keep him conscious. If only he could consume a demon or a human of considerable power, he might be able to recover. The remnants of his vortex—his core of life force—swirled weakly within him, flickering like a candle in the wind. His battle with Erebus had drained him far more than he had anticipated.
A noise.
His senses sharpened as he caught the faint crunch of approaching footsteps against the snow. He closed his eyes instantly, slowing his breathing, feigning unconsciousness.
The scent of iron—blood. The distinct, earthy smell of a mortal.
"I should contact the others… No one must find out he died from his injuries and the cold…" A voice muttered near him.
Before the man could retreat, Zavaikal's arm shot up, fingers piercing through flesh. A strangled gasp escaped the servant's lips as he convulsed, his warm blood spilling over Zavaikal's hand.
He took a deep breath, savoring the taste of death on the frigid air.
"A servant. Unfortunate."
Zavaikal withdrew his hand, letting the lifeless body crumple onto the snow. His lips curled into a sinister smile as he licked the crimson stain off his fingers.
"I can't have you die for nothing. I'll be sure to make use of your appearance..."
Though after he transformed himself taking face of the dead servant he felt as if his life was reaching towards the end.
He panted as sweat briefly beaded on his face despite the freezing temperatures.
Glancing around, he spotted a shovel leaning against a nearby post. A practical solution. He worked quickly, shoveling dirty snow over the corpse, covering every trace.
"What a bother…" He scowled, tossing the shovel aside once he was satisfied.
His golden eyes flickered toward the fortress.
"That damned hound might still be lurking. Erebus had the audacity to attack a crowned prince—I should've summoned my shadows beforehand."
Brushing the snow from his clothes, he moved toward the stables, following the trail the servant had left behind.
The stable keeper and a nearby guard called out as he approached.
"Hey, Max! Took you long enough to clear the snow. You didn't sneak off to join the soldiers' training again, did you?"
Zavaikal fought back the urge to sneer. The bitter taste of humiliation sat heavy on his tongue, but for now, he had to blend in.
"I didn't." He kept his response brief and pushed past them.
The guard frowned. "Strange… Usually, he'd be cursing and complaining about everything."
"True." The stable keeper chuckled. "The lad's been acting different today."
Zavaikal halted, pretending to adjust his boot, listening closely.
"Honestly, young men these days… Still, reminds me of the master when he was his age—never paid anyone any mind. But ever since he got married, he's become more responsible."
His breath hitched.
"Married?"
"That's right." The stable keeper nodded. "The maids say his wife is absolutely stunning. Hard to believe unless you see her yourself. My wife swears she's an otherworldly beauty."
"The rumors don't do her justice," the guard added. "She's… captivating. But modest. Always wears a veil or a cloak, keeps her distance from the servants. Still, she goes out of her way to make their lives easier."
Zavaikal felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.
"Erebus Stygian… You dared to marry behind my back?"
A flicker of annoyance ignited in his chest, but when he overheard something even more shocking, he nearly stumbled.
"A child. Three years old."
"A son?!"
His mind reeled.
A child. Erebus had a child.
The revelation hit him like a hammer.
He had begun to randomly talk to the servants of the household gathering information for two straight days.
When he attempted to go to the third floor while wondering who Erebus had brought in as his wife, someone called him from behind.
"Oi, you there!" A sharp voice pulled him from his daze.
He turned to see a young girl—Mina—staring at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"You! I've seen you before."
Zavaikal forced a casual smile. "I don't believe so."
Mina's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"
"I'm a new servant."
She crossed her arms. "That's odd… Master hasn't hired any new servants recently."
Zavaikal feigned a nervous chuckle. "Well, I have work to do." He quickly turned away.
"The dead man from that morning…" she muttered under her breath.
His blood ran cold.
He clenched his fists and quickened his pace, leaving Mina behind.
"That girl… She knows too much."
He could feel it—whispers of his infiltration had already begun spreading like wildfire through the fortress.
He needed to act carefully. Escaping now was reckless. Erebus was relentless; once he sank his teeth into something, he never let go.
And sure enough, a familiar voice called after him.
"You there! Stop!"
Zavaikal turned to see Jafar approaching, his sharp gaze locked onto him.
"You're being taken for investigation."
Zavaikal didn't wait to hear more. He turned on his heels, blending into the crowd of servants.
"Stop!" Jafar's voice echoed behind him.
He moved faster, weaving through hallways, taking sharp turns—anything to lose his tail.
But his luck ran out.
His foot caught on the uneven stone floor, sending him stumbling forward. Desperately, he grabbed onto the wall, pressing against a loose brick.
A deep rumble.
The ground beneath him cracked open.
His stomach dropped as he plunged into darkness.
---
He hit the cold floor with a painful grunt.
Slowly, the dim fire torches lining the walls flickered to life, revealing the vast chamber around him. Ancient weapons, forgotten artifacts—remnants of a past untouched for centuries.
He exhaled sharply.
"So there's a place like this beneath the fortress?"
But there was no time to marvel at his discovery. He had to find a way out.
Navigating the underground corridors was like wandering through an endless labyrinth. Every passage led to another, each more confusing than the last.
Then—voices.
He stopped.
A woman's voice, soft and clear. "Leo… let's go back now."
His eyes flickered toward the source of the sound. He descended the stone steps cautiously.
A wolf turned, baring its fangs at him.
His lips curled in mild amusement.
"A rare beast."
But his amusement quickly faded when his gaze landed on her.
He felt his breath hitch.
"A beauty unlike anything I've ever seen."
The torches cast a golden glow around her, illuminating silver eyes that gleamed like twin full moons. Her hair, white as freshly fallen snow, cascaded down her back like delicate strands of spider silk. Her skin, pale as milk, seemed to glow against the darkness.
For the first time in a long while, Zavaikal found himself utterly speechless.