High atop his obsidian throne, King Elderon sat with his chin resting on a propped fist. Below him, in the vast, sunken arena of the court, the princesses moved in a lethal dance. They were a blur of elemental force: arcs of fire hissed against shields of solid ice, and the floor rumbled as the earth-wielders shifted the very foundation of the room.
The silence of the King's observation was shattered by the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a staff against the stone floor.
"His Majesty, Michael of the Demon Kingdom, has arrived!" Patrick announced, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
Michael stepped forward, his presence cutting through the heat of the training session. He offered a crisp, practiced bow. "Greetings, Supreme King."
Elderon didn't shift his gaze from the girls below. "Don't be so formal, Michael," he said, his voice smooth but carrying a predatory edge. He was fishing, casting a line to see what the Demon King might let slip. He wondered if Michael knew of the gem his son had collected.
Elderon gestured vaguely toward the arena. "How do you think the princesses will fare against the trolls?"
"Who's to say?" Michael replied, his black eyes following a streak of lightning-fast movement below. "Trolls are unpredictable creatures. And these women... they have never fought in a single battle." He doubted that Jasper's chosen would survive the clash, considering her human fragility.
"Which one, if any, do you think will survive?" Elderon's callous words were spoken with total dispassion.
Michael looked down upon the princesses battling one another, his eyes grazing over each young woman. "If the princes are smart, they will choose their brides before the battle. Only the clever will live," he said casually. Even their own warriors struggled against trolls; these girls were at a distinct disadvantage.
King Elderon chuckled and sat back, nodding for Michael to take the seat next to him. With a polite bow, Michael sat. His ash-gray suit was impeccably tailored to his frame.
Elderon nodded slowly, a thin smile touching his lips. "And your son—is he wise?"
Michael smiled coyly, watching Elderon through the corner of his eye while maintaining his gaze on the arena. "Jasper is a consistent surprise," he said, avoiding a direct answer. He truly didn't know what Jasper would do. No one ever did, not until the very last moment.
It hadn't escaped Elderon's notice that both Daniela and Jasper had conveniently disappeared after the attack on the town. Shortly after the guests were released from the breakfast hall, both had vanished. Hours had passed, and neither had been seen.
"I have yet to see Daniela enter the practice arena. Is she so formidable?" Elderon asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Michael's expression remained a mask of stone. "She is occupied," he said shortly.
"Is there nothing more important than survival?" Elderon pushed, finally turning his head to look Michael in the eye. "Hers especially. Where is Daniela? And your boy? No one has seen them since the morning hours."
Michael's jaw tightened, the muscles leaping in his cheek. When he spoke, it was through gritted teeth, yet his voice remained casual—almost humored—even as his eyes stayed steely. As King of the Demon Kingdom, he was not a mere subject; he held his own crown, and Elderon's prying was reaching the limit of his patience.
"I require a word with Daniela!" Elderon commanded, his voice dropping an octave as he put his authority on full display.
"That is impossible at the moment," Michael countered.
Patrick, who had stood near the door, stiff and blank, froze as his eyes shifted to the two sovereigns. The soldiers stationed around the room heard the rejection and stiffened, their hands reaching for their blades. It was no small thing to deny the Supreme King.
"It is treason if she has fled the castle," Elderon hissed, the air turning heavy with the threat of his power.
"Nothing so dramatic, Supreme Majesty," Michael said, his voice cold. "Daniela's actions have blemished the Demon Kingdom. I saw fit to assign a punishment; she is currently in the Dark Realm." He mentally noted that the moment Jasper returned, he would throw the boy into the void for a few days to remind him of his failures. "The princess struck my son. It is an offense that could not go unpunished. The moment her confinement is over, she will be available for your conversation."
Elderon's eyes narrowed. He highly doubted Michael would send Daniela to the Dark Realm—a void of unending suffering where space itself felt as if it were tearing the soul apart. It would be easier to simply have her lashed than to risk shattering her mind.
"And your son?" Elderon asked, his patience fraying at the Demon King's games.
"Jasper is... eccentric. He has chosen to accompany her there. They will both be released before the battle, and I shall send them to you then."
The tension was punctuated by a sudden roar of rushing air from the pits below. Both men turned back to the training.
One of the young women, a wind specialist, stood at the center of the arena. She threw her arms outward, and the atmosphere seemed to vanish for a split second before rushing back in a violent gale. A shimmering barrier of pressurized wind swirled around her. A stone practice dummy, weighing hundreds of pounds, was caught in the vacuum. With a flick of the girl's wrist, the air pressure spiked. With a loud crack, the stone disintegrated into fine dust.
As the dust billowed upward, Michael noticed it settling onto a small dark spot on the ground: a shadow. His eyes narrowed as the black void quickly faded into the floor, realizing they had been watched.
The shadow slipped through the floorboards, a silent ink blot bleeding into the foundations. It descended through layers of stone until the air grew thick with a cloying, metallic stench. This was the Necromancer's Domain—a subterranean laboratory that reeked of stale bile and the sweet rot of death.
In the center of the cavern, figures in heavy suits moved with mechanical precision, hauling the limp forms of young women toward a massive, enchanted furnace. As each body was cast into the white flames, the fire stripped the life magic from the bone. Thick, oily smoke was channeled through glowing copper tubes into an adjacent chamber that hummed with unnatural vibration.
Away from the forge, five men waited in the gloom.
Prince Eric paced frantically, his boots clicking sharply. A few feet away, Prince Miguel crouched beside a fresh corpse. With clinical curiosity, he dipped a finger into the dark fluids pooling on the floor and brought it to his lips. He hummed softly, a sickening look of satisfaction crossing his face.
"Not as good as my brethren. The taste is inferior. These wouldn't make the best meat," Miguel muttered, staring at the piles of bodies.
High above them, Prince Deacon sat perched atop a throne of stacked, graying corpses, his legs swinging lazily. To the side, the brothers Landon and Linden stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their gazes fixed on the tubes of soul-smoke.
The shadow finally pooled at Deacon's feet. "Speak," Deacon snapped.
The shadow hissed, reporting the tension in the throne room and the claim regarding the Dark Realm.
Deacon let out a sharp, barking laugh. "The Dark Realm?"
"Michael is more desperate than I thought if he's hiding his prize in the void," Eric muttered to himself, stopping his pace.
"Why would he send Daniela there?" Linden asked.
"Jasper would never go willingly to the Dark Realm," Miguel added. Of the group, he knew Jasper best—which wasn't saying much. They simply shared a mutual lack of reverence for life.
"I propose an alliance!" Eric said, regaining his suave demeanor. "None of us can beat Jasper alone. He is the strongest, and we do not even know the limit of his power. I say we align against him."
"That is cowardice!" Landon snapped, looking at Deacon. "Some of us are warriors. We live and die with honor!"
Deacon laughed as he jumped down from his macabre perch. "Honor is for dead men and whores with pockets full of coins."
"I don't see the benefit," Landon countered, his slit pupils dilating. "I would rather watch Jasper kill you all, then make a deal with him."
"I don't need a team," Miguel said with supreme confidence. "I will take all of your heads."
The princes exchanged looks filled with accusations and bravado. Miguel was the first to leave, his feet squishing on discarded skin and cracking bone with every step.
"I love teamwork! Our alliance continues," Deacon mocked as his body flipped inside out, dissolving into a dark abyss that vanished from view.
"Come, brother," Linden said, ushering Landon out of the stench. Their kind was different; beastmen valued strength, but they held a reverence for life—especially female life. To see hundreds of powerful women reduced to waste to power the kingdom's luxuries did not sit well with them.
Eric was left alone in the center of the laboratory. His anger spiked at the knowledge that Daniela was out of reach. The blood around him began to rise in waves, reaching toward the ceiling before gravity reclaimed it. The dark red liquid splashed in every direction as he let out a final, frustrated scream.
"Fuck!"
Author's note:
Y'all, I'm going to try to get a little better with consistent updates. A lot going on right now. Hope everyone's holidays were great and that you had a happy New Year. Thank you for supporting the book.