Their steps slowly shifted from the lively hum of the market to the main street of the city. The light from blue crystal lanterns reflected gentle shadows upon the stone road, damp with the night's dew. In the distance, the spire of Belial's palace loomed high, glowing with a dim orange light like an eternal flame among the false stars of the underworld.
Sylvia walked in front, followed closely by Alicia, Stacia, and Decarabia, who maintained a respectful distance behind them. The air around them grew heavier and quieter the closer they got to the heart of power. The wind that once carried the scent of fruits and spices now shifted into something dense and thick with pure magical energy, like the breath of an ancient being held in restraint.
"Is every guest treated like this?" Sylvia asked quietly, without turning around.
Decarabia smiled faintly. "Not all. But you are no ordinary guest. You're someone chosen by his daughter… and that makes His Majesty Belial very interested."
