Darkness coiled around Drathan's sleeping form, the warmth of the summer afternoon fading as his consciousness slipped deeper. The sound of the wind in the tall grass disappeared, replaced by an endless echoing silence. He stood in a vast expanse of shadow, a place with no ceiling or ground—only void stretching into eternity.
A faint glow emerged ahead, and with it, a presence so heavy it pressed against Drathan's chest like iron weights. From the shadows stepped a figure, tall and imposing, armored in obsidian plates that seemed alive, breathing with the rhythm of the void. His eyes glowed like twin embers, and when his voice came, it wasn't just sound—it was thunder woven into whispers, crawling under the skin.
"You've finally come," the Demon Lord said, his tone low yet carrying infinite authority. "The void recognizes you, Drathan. As it once recognized me."
Drathan smirked, even as unease prickled his spine. "This another one of those 'chosen one' speeches? 'Cause I already had one goddess put a leash on me. I ain't tryin' to collect more."
The Demon Lord chuckled, the sound reverberating through the void. "Aria… She still weaves her lies, does she not? Calling herself savior, yet she rips souls from their homes. Do you not see it? Every adventurer in this realm is stolen, dragged from another world, turned into pawns to build her strength. This is not salvation—it is enslavement."
The void around them shifted, showing fleeting images like smoke: people dragged screaming from other worlds, chains of light binding them, temples filled with worshippers whose eyes glowed with devotion not their own.
Drathan folded his arms, watching the visions. His jaw clenched. "So you're sayin' she's been playing us. Using us like batteries."
"Exactly," the Demon Lord said, his ember eyes narrowing. "Three thousand years ago, I was her right hand, her shield and sword. But I saw through her vanity, her hunger for power. She seeks not balance, not protection—only to ascend higher than the rest of the gods, no matter the cost. I opposed her. For that, she stripped me of divinity, branded me a traitor, and cast me down."
The visions changed again—this time of golden halls in the upper realms, Aria seated on a throne of radiant light, other gods watching in silence as the Demon Lord was dragged away in chains. His wings, once gleaming, tore and blackened before he was hurled into shadow.
But then the void shimmered, and a new vision appeared. Drathan now stood in the middle of a memory not his own—a council chamber of blinding brilliance. He saw the Demon Lord standing proud, his armor then gleaming silver, wings unfurled. Across from him sat Aria, golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her white dress glowing with divine radiance trimmed in molten gold.
Her voice was calm, but beneath it was a hunger sharp as knives. "If I draw from other worlds, if I gather their faith and turn it to me, then I will rise above them all. Head of the gods. None will challenge me. None will deny me."
The Demon Lord's voice cut through the chamber, filled with outrage. "You speak of mortals like they are cattle. These are lives, Aria—not fuel for your vanity. You'd tear them from their homes, strip their futures, just to feed your ambition?"
Aria leaned forward, her eyes glowing like suns. "And why not? If I do not, another will. Better it be me, better their worship build the strongest among us. Only then will I ascend above the rest and secure dominion for eternity."
Gasps had echoed from other gods present, though none dared oppose her. Some looked away. Others watched in silence, complicit in their cowardice. The Demon Lord's hand had tightened into a fist, fury etched into his features. "You disgrace divinity itself."
The vision cracked apart as Aria's radiant sneer filled the void. "Then you are no longer my right hand."
The images shattered, leaving only darkness once more.
But another vision came, gentler this time—fragments of memory the Demon Lord did not banish. Aria laughing among mortals in a sunlit meadow, her hair catching the light like strands of fire. She healed the sick without being asked, knelt with children to teach them songs of the stars. Her eyes then had been soft, filled with warmth and hope, untouched by the hunger that consumed her later. A goddess who once cherished, not exploited.
The Demon Lord's voice softened, though pain laced each word. "She wasn't always this way. Once, she brought joy, healed wounds, inspired faith without chains. That was the Aria I followed, the Aria I believed in. But that Aria is gone—buried under ambition. What remains is only hunger."
Drathan frowned, fingers flexing as though grasping invisible blades. "That statue in the temple… that was you."
"Yes," the Demon Lord confirmed. "My temple, my followers, erased from history. She wanted no memory of me to survive, no whisper of dissent to poison her image. And yet, here I remain. Watching. Waiting. And now, speaking to you—because you are not bound by her rules."
Drathan tilted his head. "Because of the glitch?"
"Because of the void," the Demon Lord corrected. "You carry what she cannot control. That is why she shackled you with a seal. She fears what you might become."
Silence stretched, heavy with meaning. Drathan's mind swirled with questions, suspicion mixing with intrigue. He wasn't the type to trust blindly, and this 'fallen right hand' had his own motives. Still… something in the man's voice resonated with his own defiance.
"So what, you want me to join your little rebellion? Flip sides and start callin' you boss?" Drathan asked, voice tinged with sarcasm.
The Demon Lord's lips curled into something between a sneer and a smile. "I want you to see the truth. To prepare. There will come a day when you must choose—serve her vanity, or defy her tyranny. You are free, Drathan, more free than any who walk this cursed world. But freedom comes with responsibility."
Drathan's laugh echoed hollowly in the void. "Man, responsibility's overrated. But… I hear you. Doesn't mean I trust you."
"You will," the Demon Lord said simply. His form began to blur, dissolving back into shadow. "In time."
The void trembled, collapsing around Drathan like glass shattering. He felt himself being dragged upward, light piercing through the dark. The last words of the Demon Lord clung to his ears as he faded.
"Remember: gods lie. The void does not."
Drathan gasped awake beneath the oak tree, chest rising sharply as sunlight spilled across his face. The mirror lay in the grass beside him, its surface dull, unreflective. Sweat dampened his brow, though the summer breeze was cool.
And for the first time, he wondered—not if the Demon Lord was lying, but if Aria ever told the truth.