His dark robe draped like ink beneath the star-scattered sky. His powerful silhouette stood rigid on the rooftop, ember eyes glowing ethereally through the night's shadows. King Zarathys' long hair floated behind him, amplifying the quiet majesty cloaked in stillness.
"I knew you'd be here." A masculine voice cut through the gentle howl of the night breeze.
The speaker remained at a careful distance, his gaze set on the cityscape stretching beyond the castle's wall, the deep orange glow from the inhabitants window gave a magical feel to the darkness.
"How bothersome," he said with a scoff. "Just when I thought you'd spend eternity a loner, you take up company. A human, no less."
The mocking tone twisted the air. Though King Zarathys remained unmoving, the shift was instant. The night's calm tensed as his fingers curled, slow and deliberate.
"Proximity with the King does not spare you from becoming ash, Darvyn." King Zarathys stated, voice low and distant yet tinged with warning.
Darvyn's teasing smile faltered at the gravity of the King's words. Clearing his throat, he straightened his spine. "It was something, wasn't it? Feeling her pulse?"
Zarathys offered no reply.
His eyes remained fixed on the night though his mind wandered back to the grand hall. The trail of terror carved on the faces of his demon subjects. The screams. The smell of fear that clung the air like a koala. The cold glares and hushed curses behind forced respect.
Then... her.
Time stilled for him the moment his eyes landed on her figure.
Defiance. Mischief. Rebellion. His lips nearly curled at the absurdity of it. Yet nothing shook him more than the moment his fingers latched on her wrist.
A pulse. Steady. Strong. Unburned.
It made no sense, yet it awakened something. For the first time in centuries, he felt it.
Something real. Alive.
Nothing caught his interest for more than a millisecond. But she managed to have him gawking after their skin met.
"I want her."
The statement made Darvyn choke on his saliva, eyes wide and brimming with unspoken questions.
"What?!" Another silence stretched.
"That was unexpected, Zara. You know how invested Lilith is in being your Queen! Her whole life revolves around that. Bringing a human into this... will destroy her. Not that I'd mind watching her unravel." Darvyn exhaled. Was it worry he held for the human? Or perhaps curiosity? He didn't know.
Still, the idea of his friend claiming that woman as his didn't sit well with him.
"Stupid as always." Three words. And they crashed into Darvyn like a slap. What?
"I still can't figure out what goes on in that head of yours. You throw words like that and expect no one to misunderstand!"
"Immunity against King Zarathys — what does that tell you?" Zarathys still didn't look at him. His eyes narrowed as something else began to unfold in his mind.
"And then there's that woman." At the mention of that, Darvyn felt a chill slice through him. Biting and sharp, like those lime-green eyes flashing uninvited through his memories. A ghost from a past he'd buried.
"I know where this is going." He muttered, swallowing hard. Emotions long suppressed threatened to claw their way back. Darvyn turned away, posture stiff as he exhaled.
"It's inevitable. Whatever the future brings." He added.
"Don't torture yourself. She was never worth it," Zarathys said, his voice cool and distant. His ember eyes bore into Darvyn's back.
Something shifted in them just for a moment. Maybe it was pity. Maybe nothing at all.
"You knew that too," he added quietly, before his form dissolved into ember dusts and vanished into the night.
****
Her bed rocked side to side, disturbing her peaceful expression. Prudielle's brows furrowed, lips twitching in her sleep. She rolled to the side, hand reaching out for her favorite plush pillow. But her long, graceful fingers met nothing.
The frown between her brows deepened into a scowl as she reached out blindly, only to jolt awake and crash to the floor. Her eyes flew open at the sudden neigh of a horse and the thunder of galloping hooves.
"What!" Prudielle gasped, realization pulling her from her dreamstate.
He couldn't have!
Scrambling up in her night robe, her thick, tousled hair tumbled past her waist in messy waves.
Her eyes snapped to the blur of moving buildings outside her window. A proof enough that her suspicion was right. Her father had acted on his will, completely ignoring her refusal.
Prudielle's jaw clenched so tight that a dull ache bloomed in her temples. Her breath trembled in angry, shallow bursts as the carriage surged forward, tossing her from side to side.
Then without warning, it jerked — almost airborne. Her body slammed into the opposite side of the carriage, crashing against the window with a force that shattered the quiet.
What followed after were the distant sword clashes and whispers of arrows.
She wasn't just taken away. She was ambushed.
"This cannot be happening!" Her eyes darted left and right in urgency as her face paled like a blank sheet of paper. Who would think her father's attempt to keep her safe would bring her closer to death?
She had no weapons to defend herself. The carriage was empty. Just a perfect way to remove her without a fight. How unfortunate.
There was no one by her side and that drew an empty smile across her lips. The distant cries behind her only deepened the void as she struggled to make sense of it all.
The carriage's door flew open — kicked from the outside — to reveal a headless figure clad in an impeccable jade-green silk robe. Its wide sleeves swayed softly as the wind sang a soft, haunting song, slowing time for both of them.
The air thickened with danger and dread. For the first time in her life, Prudielle was completely unprepared. Her throat dried up, her lungs barely pulling in air. The headless being didn't move, but her heart plummeted.
"Found you."
The voice was laced with venomous excitement and a cruel mockery that wrapped itself around her like a noose of despair.