On the third day of marching, they ran into the bandits.
It wasn't coincidence. The peak trail was known to smugglers and raiders who extorted travelers foolish enough to cross the passes in winter. Kael and Kira spotted them before they revealed themselves. Six men, armed with short blades and crude bows, ambushed behind a rockfall.
Kira placed a hand on Kael's arm.
"You saw them?"
"Yes."
"You still want to test yourself?"
"Yes."
"Then go ahead. I'll stay back."
Kael loosened his cloak and walked forward alone on the trail. The snow crunched beneath his boots. The wind had died down, leaving the mountain in a strange silence, almost complicit.
The bandits showed themselves.
The first, a massive man with a scarred face, descended from his rock with the confidence of a predator. The others followed, forming a semicircle.
"Lost your way, traveler?" the scarred one sneered.
"No. I'm exactly where I need to be."
"Then you've got toll money."
"I have no money."
"Then we'll take your cloak. And maybe a piece of your flesh."
Kael didn't answer. He unfastened his cloak and let it fall into the snow. His shoulders were broad, his arms relaxed. He wore simple, dark clothes, no armor.
"You want to die?" asked another, younger, his voice uncertain.
"I want to see if you know how to fight."
The scarred one let out a short laugh.
"We know how."
"Then show me."
They attacked.
Two men charged head-on, blades raised. Kael pivoted on his back leg, let the first pass, grabbed the second's wrist, and dislocated his shoulder with a sharp motion. The cry echoed off the rocks.
The first bandit came back at him. Kael dodged a slashing strike, struck the elbow, then the temple. The man collapsed without a sound.
An arrow split the air. Kael deflected it with a backhand. The projectile buried itself in the snow.
"Harder," said Kael.
Two more bandits lunged at him. One carried a hand-axe, the other a dagger. Kael blocked the axe with the edge of his palm, deflected the blade, and drove a knee into the axe-wielder's ribs. The man doubled over, winded.
The dagger came from the flank. Kael dodged narrowly, felt the blade tear the fabric of his tunic without touching skin. He grabbed the bandit's arm, twisted, broke the bone with a sharp crack. The dagger fell into the snow.
The scarred one hung back, face hard.
"You're a demon," he spat.
"Yes."
"We should have seen it."
"You did. You just thought you could win."
The scarred one took a step back.
"We don't want trouble. Let us go."
"No."
"We have families."
"And you threatened to take my flesh."
"It was bluffing."
"It doesn't matter."
Kael advanced. The scarred one drew a short blade from his belt.
"I warned you."
He struck. A wide, violent, desperate blow. Kael sidestepped it effortlessly. His hand closed around the bandit's nape. He squeezed.
The man froze.
"You're going to die," said Kael. "But not yet. First, you're going to tell me who sent you."
"No one."
"You were too well placed. Too organized. Bandits don't set an ambush in the dead of winter without an informant."
"That's not—"
"Don't lie."
The pressure increased. The bandit let out a groan.
"A man. From the village of Grelle. He told us a traveler would pass. That he had money, artifacts."
"His name."
"I don't know. An emissary. He talked like a noble."
"He had a seal?"
"Yes. Black and red. With an eye."
Kael released the bandit, who collapsed into the snow, trembling.
"Kira."
"Yes."
"Do you know that seal?"
Kira stepped forward slowly.
"Black and red, with an eye. That's the seal of House Vorlath. A minor demon family, formerly vassals of the Neverdie Realm."
"Formerly?"
"They changed allegiance after your fall. They now serve another Demon King."
"Which one?"
"I don't know. But I can find out."
Kael turned to the bandit.
"You're lucky. You get to live. But if I encounter a single one of yours on this road, I'll come back."
"We'll leave."
"You'll leave. And you'll forget what you saw."
"Yes."
"Now get out."
The surviving bandits picked themselves up as best they could and fled into the snow, leaving behind their weapons and the bloody traces of the fight.
Kael picked up his cloak. His fingers were red, but he felt no pain. Just the heat of combat slowly receding.
"You held back," said Kira.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because they weren't worth it."
"And the scarred one?"
"He talked. It saved his life."
"He might come back."
"No. He saw what I am. He won't come back."
Kira nodded.
"House Vorlath. If they're behind this, they're watching you."
"Then they know I'm on my way."
"Possible."
"They'll try something else."
"Certainly."
Kael smiled coldly.
"Good."
They resumed the road. The snow fell again, covering the ambush's traces. Kael walked with more confidence. His muscles responded. His blood beat faster.
"You found something," said Kira.
"Yes."
"What?"
"The taste of combat."
"Is that so important?"
"It's essential."
"Why?"
"Because it's what connects me to what I was. Not the throne. Not the title. The fight."
Kira pondered these words for a moment.
"Combat is your true nature."
"Yes. The dream made me believe I could be something else. A traveler. A student. An ordinary man."
"And now?"
"Now I remember what I am."
"And what are you?"
"A demon. A king. And a weapon."
The wind suddenly rose, swirling the snow. Kael continued forward without slowing.
"We'll be at the pass soon," said Kira.
"Yes."
"And there, Drakk will be waiting for you."
"I know."
"Are you afraid?"
"No. I'm eager."
"Eager?"
"Eager to see if he's still my general. Or if he's become an obstacle."
The trail climbed higher. The rocks grew sharper. The storm threatened.
Kael didn't feel the cold.
He felt the fire.