The Breakfast Hall, stripped bare of its morning warmth, felt hollow and cold. Maids moved with practiced efficiency, sweeping away the last vestiges of pastries and tea, their movements brisk as if trying to outrun the chilling shift in atmosphere. In their wake, the Demon General, Clifford, strode into the hall. He had a strong, authoritative energy that seemed to pull the oxygen from the room. His black hair was cut short, framing the telltale obsidian eyes of his kind, and his armor—crafted from seamless plates of dark obsidian—clanked with a heavy, rhythmic finality.
Behind him followed Romano. He did not need to announce his lineage; his ashen, gray stone body spoke for itself, his skin tensing with a visible irritation that made his frame sound like grinding boulders as he moved. His wings were tucked tightly against his back, and his bare upper body put his chiseled physique on display. Princess Ashley's eyes widened; she recognized him as the Gargoglian General who had crushed skulls with his bare hands at the Battle of the Iron Crags.
Soldiers followed, acting like a well-oiled machine. They laid out thick maps across the dining table and placed several glass orbs at strategic intervals.
"You will be sent to the Katani Stone Mine," Romano began, his voice a low rumble. "This site contains a precious mineral. The top priority is its protection. The Sentinels assigned to each princess will ensure the battle does not affect this mine."
"What is so special about this mine?" Princess Bella asked, her voice small and trembling.
"It is none of your concern," Clifford snapped, his tone harsh. "You will focus on the trolls."
He nodded to a Sentinel, who pulled the floor-to-ceiling curtains closed. The beautiful natural light that had made the chamber feel ethereal was snuffed out instantly, plunging the room into a cold, artificial gloom.
"Play it," Clifford commanded. The orbs flickered to life.
A roar of pure, monstrous rage ripped through the projected silence. A massive Geophage Troll slammed a granite fist into a Primeval Bile Troll. The sound of stone crushing bone was deafening. Acidic blood sprayed from the contact, but the Geophage's wounds instantly began to calcify, forming a dark, protective crust.
Daniela leaned in, her green eyes tracking the calcification. The same impervious composition as the Gargoyles, she noted. Beside her, Jasper's fingers threaded through her hair. He did it with a lazy, playful rhythm, but his eyes were fixed on the opposite side of the table. He noticed the way Eric's jaw locked every time his hand moved, and for that simple reason, Jasper continued to twist the green locks around his fingers, relishing the visible irritation he was provoking.
Across the table, the first crack in the princesses' facade appeared. A nameless princess scrambled back, her chair screeching against the floor before she turned to vomit profusely onto the polished stone.
The projection shifted. A Night-Husk Troll phased through the deep shadow of a cart, using its Shadow-Stalk ability to vanish and reappear behind a fleeing villager. It didn't just kill; its Fear Echo bled outward, paralyzing everyone in the vicinity with a cold, irrational dread.
Daniela's pulse quickened. It's better than the Shades' shadow-walking, she realized. How can these beasts possess the apex traits of every kingdom at this table?
Princess Selena, her eyes wide, clutched a wooden sun pendant at her throat, her lips moving in a frantic, silent prayer to the Sun God. Near her, Princess Elara began to sob, silent tears tracking paths down her perfectly made-up face. Princess Fox remained stoic, but her hands shook so violently she had to clench them into fists under the table to hide the tremor. She looked at the other women, wondering how any of them were expected to survive this.
The violence on the orbs peaked. The Bile Troll pinned a screaming Sentinel to the dirt. With a guttural roar, it proceeded to sodomize the soldier with a tree-trunk-sized appendage—a horrific display of dominance and lust amidst the carnage.
The room erupted in gasps of disgust. Many princesses looked away, faces flushed with a queasy sense of sympathy and horror. Palace maids whispered in a panic, "Is it required that we follow? We'll be dragged into that?"
Daniela didn't look away. She smirked. The pieces clicked—the sexual satisfaction sought amidst a battle screamed the obvious: interspecies breeding. It explained the stolen traits.
Prince Eric sat motionless, his eyes entirely fixed on Daniela. He ignored the screen, his mind spiraling into a fantasy where he was the one holding the blade. He imagined her head lolling back as he drew the steel across her throat, visualizing the way she would finally realize her mistake and look up at him with begging, desperate eyes. He cursed Jasper for touching her hair—a touch he felt belonged to his own violent whims.
The video concluded with the Geophage Troll tearing a splintered beam from a structure and swinging it like a club. The Bile Troll caught the blow, but the impact ruptured sacs on its arm, spraying acid that ate away at the stone beneath them, creating a smoking, sulfurous pit.
Princess Ashley tried to conjure a wind-blade in her palm, but her mind was fractured by fear; only a pathetic, light gust of wind flickered in her hand before dying. Romano caught the failed magic, noting that while the others were praying or crying, only Daniela seemed sturdy. Clifford watched the soon-to-be Demon Queen with grim satisfaction; she was the only one leaning in.
Landon had closed his eyes to rest, while Linden picked at his nails, bored. Deacon, however, used his hand to hide a smile, taking joy in the misery of the crying women.
Bella looked at the screen as the Sentinel was torn apart and made her final decision. She was going to mail the letter to her parents. Better they get used to the idea of her being dead, even if it was premature.
"Enough," Romano growled, and the glass orbs went dark.
The Sentinel near the windows threw back the heavy velvet curtains. Effervescent morning light flooded the hall once more, but it didn't feel the same. The golden glow felt invasive, illuminating the shell-shocked faces of the princesses and the sight of a maid on her hands and knees in the corner, scrubbing the remains of the vomit from the stone floor.
Daniela didn't wait for the silence to settle. She leaned forward, her eyes sharp. "The overlapping abilities," she began, her voice cutting through the whimpering. "The shadow-stalking, the bile control, the calcification. This isn't natural evolution. Is it from interspecies breeding?"
Romano and Clifford exchanged a long, weighted look. Clifford's obsidian eyes flickered toward Jasper, who offered an almost imperceptible nod of approval.
"It is whispered in our shared histories that some females have been taken by the trolls," Clifford admitted. "The bloodlines were tainted. The result is the adaptive monstrosities you see today."
Daniela leaned back, a look of satisfaction on her face. She offered no further questions. She had her answer; the trolls were no longer nightmares, just biological problems.
"How can we even fight something like this?" Ashley asked, her voice shrill. "What if we can't do it? If we just freeze!"
"Then you will die," Clifford told her without any reservation.
"We are elementalists," Bella said, trying to find her strength. "Our powers... they don't feel suited for this."
"Are they immune to elemental attacks?" Fox asked.
"Elemental attacks will work," Romano answered. "They are not as effective as others, but you work with what you have. If your magic fails, you use your steel."
Romano gestured to the Sentinel holding the uniforms—gowns imbued with protective runes meant to help withstand attacks.
"I'm not wearing that!" Daniela spoke up immediately. She looked at the garment—a traditional battle-gown with a restrictive corset and a long skirt.
"There is little time for adjustments," Clifford said respectfully. "But they can be done."
"Remove the skirt. I prefer trousers," Daniela commanded.
Ashley stared at her, unable to comprehend why Daniela seemed so calm. She had no more questions; she looked bored. She was worried about the cut of her trousers while the rest of them were worried about being destroyed. Daniela didn't look like a girl going to a sacrifice—she looked like a predator preparing for the hunt.