POV: Athaliah
"Welcome to Castellum Roboris, Princess Athaliah and Lord Amras," Decima said at the house of Vaelgor stables.
Athaliah internally rolled her eyes at the ridiculous number of servants assembled to greet her. They knelt in structured rows, welcoming her and her companions back from their expedition.
She did not see Lord Vaelgor among them. Instead, only his second daughter, Decima Vaelgor, waited at the front with servants at her back. That was unusual, since for the last two weeks he had welcomed them here at the stables every time they returned.
"Welcome home, Adira," Decima said, offering her sister a warm smile.
The devil trait of House Vaelgor is Gravemight, a power that lets its members amplify their physical strength to extreme levels. As a result, everyone from that bloodline is built like a giant. Even the daughters easily reached seven feet in height, something Athaliah still was not used to, no matter how often she saw them.
Athaliah dismounted without ceremony from her ride, a komodo dragon larger than a horse and far deadlier. Her two companions dismounted from their horses just as easily.
"Your Highness, please allow us to take care of your mighty mount," a male servant said with a deep bow.
"Thank you," Athaliah replied politely. "I will trust him in your care. He doesn't like horse meat, but I am sure you are aware of that."
They had been taking care of her familiar for the last two weeks, after all.
"Was there an important matter that would require Father's attention?" Adira asked her sister, her tone far from pleased.
The unspoken question was what could possibly be more important than welcoming the princess herself. Athaliah had been informed of a band of outlaws terrorizing the territory of House Vaelgor, one of the minor nobles sworn to her house, and she had come with her peerage and a small detachment of soldiers to deal with the matter.
Normally such problems would be beneath the notice of a princess, yet House Vaelgor's lands bordered the forest near the Eye of the Pit. The bandits had become such a nuisance that they were interfering with the supply lines to the legions stationed there.
"Indeed. Father is with a guest," Decima answered calmly. "The crown prince honors us with his presence."
"My brother is here?" Athaliah asked, unable to hide her surprise.
Why would Meruem come here?
"Yes, Your Highness," Decima replied. "He is waiting for your return."
"Well then," Amras said with a pleasant smile. "We shouldn't keep him waiting. Shall we, ladies?"
Athaliah noticed Adira glancing at her in confusion, likely wondering the same thing she was. She only shrugged and started toward the castle.
She wondered if Amras had anything to do with this. He had told her about his plan to lure Meruem, and this had not been it. Still, he could have lied to her. That would not be out of character for him.
"Ah, there she is. The woman of the hour," Lord Mengis Vaelgor said jovially. "Just in time, Your Highness. I was telling the crown prince of your peerless valor in vanquishing the outlaws."
"My thanks, Lord Vaelgor. I'm only doing my duty."
She did not like Lord Vaelgor. He reminded her of the irritating nobles in the capital, the sycophants and overflatterers who never meant a word they said, hiding everything behind backhanded praise.
The truth was that she had spent days chasing the outlaws in circles while they led her on a wild hunt.
"Hello there, sister. Nice armor you got there," Meruem said with a smile.
He was lounging sideways in his chair with both feet draped over one armrest, and she found the insolent grace he still carried deeply unfair.
She suddenly felt self conscious about her attire. Her armor was not ugly, though the style belonged to the Aesthetic epoch from before the civil war. She had commissioned it out of personal love for the era, even if her queen had made it painfully clear how embarrassing he found it in public.
Knowing Meruem's refined tastes, she was certain the compliment carried a hidden barb.
"Thank you, brother," she replied with a practiced smile.
"And this must be your heir, I assume?" Meruem asked, turning his gaze to the tall girl standing at her side.
"Please allow me to introduce my daughter and heir, Adira Vaelgor, Your Highness," Lord Vaelgor said eagerly, clearly hoping his daughter would catch Meruem's attention.
"Exalted High Prince," Adira dropped to her knees at once. "I'm honored to be in your presence."
"My gratitude for the pleasure of your company," Meruem replied, his smile bright and disarming.
"Thank you for your graciousness," Adira said as she rose, her cheeks flushed. Athaliah could not help but feel a flicker of amusement at the sight.
"Great to see you again, Meruem," Amras chimed in, speaking as if they were old friends.
Athaliah saw him trying to latch onto Meruem like a leech. Amras loved to feel important and chased that feeling wherever he could find it. His lineage and his position as her queen meant most people treated him with reverence, which only inflated his ego further.
"I'm sorry," Meruem said, tilting his head in genuine confusion. "Do I know you?"
If Amras had hoped Meruem would play along with empty courtesies like Hermon did, he had misjudged him badly. Meruem cared little for decorum. Athaliah would not have it any other way. The look of shock on Amras's face was priceless, even if he hid it quickly.
"We met only briefly, Your Highness," Amras said, smiling through his embarrassment. "It is only natural you would not recall my name. I'm Amras Sallos, a queen of Princess Athaliah's peerage."
"A pleasure to meet you," Meruem said sincerely. Athaliah was unsurprised that he had not known who her queen was. He rarely paid attention to such details.
"I must confess, dear brother," Athaliah said smoothly, stepping in before Amras could say more, "though I'm glad to see you, your presence here comes as quite a surprise. I didn't expect to encounter the Crown Prince so far from the capital."
"Nor did I," Lord Vaelgor added eagerly. "Your Highness, I was simply attending to my duties when a servant burst into my office and announced that a prince had come to visit. I asked him which prince, and when he said the crown prince, I thought he had finally lost his wits. I nearly threw the poor boy out for spouting nonsense, yet I decided to check for myself. And would you believe it? There he was, standing before my door, The crown prince himself. The lord of rings in all his glory."
He continued recounting the tale with increasing embellishment, describing his disbelief, his indignation, and his awe in increasingly dramatic terms.
Athaliah could not hide her irritation at his attempt to make the moment about himself. Meruem, on the other hand, looked entertained.
"Perhaps you can regale everyone with the full tale over a meal," Meruem said calmly. "They look as though they are in dire need of a hot bath and a proper meal first."
She felt an immediate wave of gratitude toward her brother. After days of relentless searching, she and her companions were exhausted to the bone.
"You are quite right, Your Highness," Lord Vaelgor said with a sheepish grin. "I let my excitement get the better of me. I shall see that warm baths are prepared at once and that a proper meal is laid out for these brave warriors."
"We will speak after you have rested, sister," Meruem said, offering her a gentle smile.
She nodded and excused herself. To her dismay, Amras followed close behind. He would surely take his anger out on her.
"That arrogant bastard. Just who does he think he is?"
Her queen had taken the humiliation badly, just as she expected. Even after venting his anger on her poor hips and jaw, he was still seething.
The fact that her brother, infamous for caring so little about others that he barely bothered to remember names, had not remembered him at all gnawed at his pride.
She continued to wash his body like a lowly bath servant in the large spring bath prepared for them. He sat immersed in the steaming water, no doubt imagining himself a king wronged by lesser men.
"This place is filth," he sneered. "But what else can you expect from some upstart house with barely any history? Your house truly excels at making poor choices."
House Vaelgor was indeed a young noble house, elevated a little over nine hundred years ago by her grandfather. After the eye of the pit appeared, countless minor houses had been wiped out by the monsters that poured forth. Her grandfather had rallied the regions to face the catastrophe, and many had proven themselves in that time.
One of them had been the founder of House Vaelgor. He had held the Iron Breach alone for three nights, fighting with shattered armor and broken arms, and her grandfather had personally marked him with sigils of nobility for his valor.
"They don't even have a single woman with a comely face here, aside from the servants," he went on with a curl of his lip. "A woman should be beautiful and delicate, not tall like a warhorse. Did you see that pitiful Adira blushing just because your brother acknowledged her? It was revolting. Is that thing even a woman?"
Athaliah said nothing and kept washing. It was true that most devils would not consider the women of House Vaelgor attractive. Tall frames and hard muscles were not the usual standard of beauty.
"And what is wrong with you, you dumb whore?" he snapped. "Do you even know how to wash a man? Use your tits when you scrub my back, for Lucifer's sake."
"As you command, master," she replied softly.
"You must be laughing at my humiliation inside," he said, his voice turning dangerous. "That's why you did not introduce me to your brother at once, is it not? You knew he would disgrace me."
"I would never do that, master," she said quickly, careful to keep her tone submissive so he would not strike her again."I was caught off guard just like you. You know I would never betray you."
"Yes, you could not betray me even if you wanted to," he said, calm again. "I would be more suspicious if you possessed any real cunning. Still, what I plan to do to that bastard, I will enjoy greatly."
"So you are planning to ensnare him now?" she asked, unable to stop herself.
"That is none of your concern. Just do as you are told," he said coldly.
Her stomach tightened. This was bad. Amras was immensely talented, already reaching the lower bounds of high class in power.
Could Meruem really handle him alone here?
She feared for her brother. She did not wish him to live the life she had lived.
…
She walked toward the meeting room where they were waiting for her, her steps measured and steady despite the tight knot of unease in her chest. Amras walked beside her, freshly clothed and outwardly composed, his earlier fury concealed beneath a veneer of calm.
A servant stood at attention by the doors and opened them with a deep bow as they approached.
She entered the room and immediately heard Adira's voice, animated and bright, as she spoke with Meruem. Beside her brother stood a beautiful silver haired woman, silent and attentive, her posture dignified. Her brother's queen, if Athaliah was not mistaken.
Lord Mengis Vaelgor sat at the table, a goblet of wine in hand, doing his utmost to appear composed in Meruem's presence. It was a small surprise that he was allowing his daughter to converse so freely with the crown prince without constantly inserting himself to draw attention.
He was likely hoping that Adira might charm Meruem with her presence, that somehow she might be taken as a concubine or even drawn into his peerage.
Adira was kind and earnest, but hardly the sort to captivate a man through clever words and charm alone, least of all someone like Meruem.
Lord Mengis noticed Athaliah first. "Your highness," he said with a smile, starting to rise.
"Please, no need to stand on my account, my lord," she said politely as she crossed the room to the table. "I assume we are here to discuss the Ferrum Exsulum."
"Hmm? The iron of the exiled," Meruem said with amusement. "A dramatic bunch, aren't they?"
"And dangerous," Athaliah replied, disliking his casual tone. "They have destroyed three supply wagons headed for the pit and killed and injured several soldiers of Maerach's legion."
"Then let us ensure they will not trouble us again," Meruem said easily. "What have you learned about them so far?"
She explained how Ferrum Exsulum was composed largely of criminals who had escaped conviction and banded together more than a century ago. They lived deep within the forests bordering Vaelgor territory, surviving through hunting and fishing.
Their numbers were far from small, bolstered by lower class devils and various magical creatures. Shadow warlocks, sirens, and even minotaurs were known to be among them.
More troubling still was the fact that they were a cult. They worshipped demonic spirits dwelling within the forest, beings they referred to as the Silent Gods. For most of their history they had been little more than a nuisance. They rarely left the forest and seldom attacked settlements, so they had been largely ignored.
That had changed roughly a year ago. Since then they had begun abducting people and attacking travelers with increasing frequency.
Their boldness had grown to the point where they now assaulted nobles who passed near the forest, even without provocation.
"I believe this rise in violence is tied to the spirit they worship trying to increase its power and influence," Athaliah concluded. "They leave a symbol at each site, and the killings are carried out in an almost ritualistic manner."
"But why now?" Lord Mengis asked, frowning. "Ferrum Exsulum has existed for over a century. Why did they begin expanding their cult only recently?"
"Most likely because they could not before," Adira answered calmly. "The spirit may not have been powerful enough to command such actions in the past, but now it feels secure enough to expand its territory."
"Creatures like that value self preservation above all else," Athaliah added. "Staying in hiding amassing power secretly for the last century would be a rational decision. They don't act unless the odds are in their favor."
"Or they have received outside assurance," Meruem said. "Malevolent spirits are not incapable of making deals with devils. An object at rest remains so unless acted upon by an external force."
"That is a possibility we have considered," Athaliah agreed. "For now it remains speculation. We lack proof to draw any firm conclusions."
"Haven't you captured any cultists?" Meruem asked.
"Unfortunately not," she replied with a grimace. "Whenever we manage to seize one, they detonate themselves. There is likely a curse placed upon them to prevent information from leaking. The forest is perpetually shrouded in mist, which prevents aerial reconnaissance. We are forced to search on foot, and they know the terrain far better than we do."
"Then we shall do it the hard way," Meruem said. "I will accompany you into the forest. Perhaps we'll have better luck."
That took her by surprise. She had not expected him to involve himself in such a matter at all.
…
The next morning, they waited for Meruem to arrive.
He had been very clear that he wanted as few people as possible accompanying him. In the end, only Athaliah, Amras, and Adira had been agreed upon to join the expedition with the crown prince.
Athaliah considered it a dangerous decision, born partly from Meruem's confidence and perhaps a touch of arrogance, yet she could not deny the crown prince. Even so, caution came naturally to her.
As a safeguard, she had prepared a special spell formula before dawn. It was a layered construct, quietly maintained by her peerage from afar, one that would immediately alert them if anything went wrong. She had not told Meruem about it.
She soon spotted him approaching, riding a simple hellstallion with his queen at his side. He had not bothered to change his attire at all. His clothes were finely made, elegant and extravagant, far more suited for a banquet or celebration than a trek through hostile wilderness.
In contrast, his queen wore armor designed for combat, practical and fitted, every piece clearly chosen with purpose.
Meruem's gaze drifted to Athaliah's mount, and he let out a soft chuckle. "You are using a komodo dragon as your mount?"
"He is my familiar," Athaliah replied at once, a note of defensiveness creeping into her voice. "Besides, komodo dragons have excellent sensory abilities."
That much was true. Komodo dragons could detect prey from miles away, tasting the air with their forked tongues and analyzing scent particles through their Jacobson's organ. In a place like this, they were ideal trackers.
"He looks cool," Meruem said simply. "So then, shall we?"
They set off soon after, riding into the forest and pressing deeper for nearly half an hour. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the forest became. The trees were enormous, their trunks so wide that several riders could not encircle them even hand in hand, and their canopies vanished hundreds of meters above.
Their branches rustled far above like a distant storm that never quite reached the ground. The air was heavy and damp, thick with fog that clung to their skin and clothes. Somewhere in the dark between the trees, unseen demonic creatures cried with voices that sounded disturbingly like a baby's wail. Other things laughed, low and twisted, though none of them dared to approach.
Mist clung to the ground and hung thick in the air, rolling between the roots and wrapping around their legs. Fog obscured sight beyond a few dozen steps, swallowing shapes and warping distance until it was impossible to tell how far one had truly traveled.
They continued on foot after a time, moving through the forest for what felt like over an hour. The scenery barely changed, and Athaliah began to suspect that they were being led in circles, that the mist carried illusionary properties meant to disorient intruders.
She glanced down at her familiar, watching the steady certainty with which it moved. The creature advanced with the confidence of a born predator, unbothered by the fog, and that eased her doubts.
She took note of their formation. Amras and Meruem rode at her sides, while Rossweisse and Adira followed a short distance behind, weapons ready and eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
What surprised her most was Meruem himself.
He made no attempt to seize command. Instead, he allowed Athaliah to lead, trusting her Familiar to guide them through the blinding mist. He listened when she spoke and had yet to question her decisions or undermine her authority.
She did not let herself relax because of it. Meruem had always been like this, serene and controlled, his expression masterful and unreadable. She knew how quickly that calm could twist into something terrifying.
Meruem suddenly raised a hand. His hellstallion came to an immediate halt, and Athaliah stopped as well, the others following suit.
"We have guests," Meruem said calmly, his tone entirely unbothered.
Athaliah felt a flicker of unease. She could sense nothing. The mist smothered her perception, dulling her ability to detect distant presences. Before she could question him, voices erupted from the fog, harsh and shouting.
She reacted instantly, shifting into a defensive stance. Amras and the others did the same. Meruem, however, merely glanced down at his nails, studying them with faint boredom.
A projectile screamed through the air toward her. Athaliah twisted aside, the attack passing close enough that she felt the heat of it brush her skin. She launched herself forward, closing the distance in a blink.
Another projectile flew, then another, and she wove through them with graceful movements.
She appeared directly in front of one of the attackers, a middle class devil whose eyes widened in pure shock at her sudden presence. He never had time to scream. Her blade flashed and his head fell before his body even realized it was dead.
She sensed more attacks coming, from multiple directions, above and behind. Athaliah planted her feet and waited, counting heartbeats. When the projectiles were mere inches from her body, she released her power.
Fire burst outward, wrapping around her like a living shield. The incoming attacks struck the flames, their momentum feeding the blaze. She twisted the flow, letting the friction ignite the air itself.
The fire surged along following the exact paths the projectiles had taken, racing back toward their sources in blazing lines. The attackers barely had time to register what had happened before the flames reached them. Their screams were cut short as their bodies were consumed, reduced to ash in moments.
Silence returned to the forest.
Athaliah remained still for a few seconds, senses stretched wide, waiting for another ambush that never came. Satisfied, she turned and made her way back to the others.
She found them standing amid the aftermath. Six bodies lay scattered on the forest floor, lifeless and broken. Rossweisse stood over a seventh figure, holding him captive. The man was forced to his knees, trembling, his body locked in place by binding magic that left him completely unable to move.
Adira stood protectively near Meruem, shield raised and swords drawn, her stance tense and ready. Meruem himself looked as composed as ever, as though the ambush had been nothing more than a minor interruption.
The forest watched them in silence, its mist curling slowly around the dead.
It seemed they had dealt with the attackers quickly on this side as well.
"You shouldn't let yourself be separated from us, master," Amras said when he saw Athaliah approaching. His gaze swept the misty surroundings with open suspicion. "This is a treacherous jungle. You may suddenly find yourself isolated, surrounded by nothing but wild beasts."
"I will be more careful in the future," Athaliah replied calmly. Her attention shifted to the kneeling figure restrained by Rossweisse. "He is not detonating himself…" She let the question trail off.
"That would be because I have restrained him with a rune formation," Rossweisse answered evenly. Faint lines of glowing script hovered around the captive, layered and interlocking. "We were waiting for you to begin the interrogation."
Athaliah studied her brother's queen more closely. Casting a functional rune formation under combat conditions required deep mastery. "Are you able to make him talk without triggering the curse?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.
"I can," Rossweisse replied. "But it would take time to construct a counterspell robust enough to suppress it fully. Time we do not have."
She then glanced toward Meruem and raised her hand slightly in his direction. "However, he can do it quicker."
Meruem chuckled softly and stepped toward the prisoner with unhurried confidence. He extended a finger and tapped the captive lightly on the chest. The pressure binding the man's lungs eased at once, and the prisoner coughed violently, sucking in air as if he had been drowning.
"You are incubi," Meruem observed, studying him with open interest.
Incubi were among the lesser demons of desire scattered throughout the underworld, beings born from the residual emotions of mortal souls. Longing, lust, obsession, jealousy, and unfulfilled yearning gave them form and hunger.
"You can suck my cock and choke on it, filthy devil," the incubus spat, his voice laced with both venom and seductive contempt.
Athaliah's eyes were drawn to a mark etched into the creature's forehead. It resembled a jagged sigil carved into flesh, shaped like an eye split by branching veins. The lines pulsed faintly with sickly green light, and the surrounding skin looked warped, as though something beneath it strained to surface. The mark felt wrong and invasive in a way that disgusted her.
"Ah, the hospitality of the incubi," Meruem replied mildly, entirely unfazed by the vulgarity. "I wonder what it died off. Tell me, how fares your master these days?"
"I acknowledge no master," the incubus snapped, anger flaring in his eyes.
That response fit the nature of his kind. Incubi were fiercely individualistic and profoundly egotistical. They formed no lasting societies and pursued no ideals beyond personal gratification.
Devils, to them, were prude creatures enslaved by intellect and hierarchy, while incubi and succubi considered themselves the true embodiments of freedom.
"Then how is Eisheth Zenunim," Meruem continued, his tone light, "she who bears the title of the Whore of Babylon, queen of the demons of pleasure?"
Among the demons of desire, laws and political titles were meaningless, save for one exception. The greatest of their race was honored with the title of the Whore of Babylon, a name they revered above all others.
To them, there was no higher honor than the mortal woman whose legend had given rise to countless pleasure cults at the height of humanity's depravity.
Athaliah found herself startled by the familiarity with which her brother spoke the queen's name, as though referring to an old acquaintance.
"What business would the likes of you have with the greatest whore of them all?" the incubus sneered.
"Information," Meruem replied mildly. "I have an occasional arrangement with her."
Athaliah could not yet tell why Meruem was indulging this exchange, unless he was deliberately keeping the creature distracted.
"An arrangement?" the incubus echoed, confusion flickering across his features.
"Yes. An arrangement," Meruem said calmly. "And in light of my familiarity with your master, I would consider it a courtesy if you told me where the hideout of the Ferrum Exsulum is located."
"Go to hell, bastard. I won't tell you shit!"
"Unfortunately, I am already in hell," Meruem replied dryly. "And you are mistaking this for a social visit, demon. I was not asking. Now, be still. I am going to examine you."
His eyes flared crimson, three comma-like swirls spinning violently within each pupil. The air around him seemed to tense, heavy with tension. He placed two fingers against the incubus's marked forehead.
Athaliah felt goosebumps ripple across her skin.
The King's Eye was said to perceive magic in its purest form, unraveling structures, intentions, and consequences in a single glance. Spells were reduced to patterns, contracts to equations, and lies to fractured truths.
The sigil on the incubus's forehead flared briefly under Meruem's touch, and the forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
"Interesting," Meruem murmured. "More elaborate than I expected. This was a transaction, a two-way exchange. Power was spent here, but power was also generated. Hmm, some moron is attempting to become a god."
He stepped away, hand returning to his chin as he sank into thought. The incubus did not even have time to scream. His body crumbled into gray ash the moment Meruem's attention left him.
Athaliah understood only fragments of what had been said. Judging by the expressions of the others, she was not alone. Even Rossweisse watched Meruem with undisguised interest.
"What do you mean, master?" Rossweisse asked carefully.
Meruem turned to Athaliah instead. "Your suspicions were correct, sister."
She blinked, then recalled their earlier discussion. "That the evil spirit is trying to increase its power?"
"Spirits," Meruem corrected. "Plural."
He began to pace slowly as he explained. "The entities worshipped by this cult are parasitical spirits, possibly escapees of the pit. They use the mark you saw as a conduit. That sigil binds the cultist to the spirits in a reciprocal exchange. The spirits grant power, strength, resilience, even rudimentary increase in magic. In return, they receive faith."
He gestured to where the incubus had been. "Faith reinforced through action, obedience, and dependence. Every cultist marked becomes a living generator. The more followers they brand, the more faith flows back to the spirits."
"So the expansion is an attempt to gather more believers," Athaliah said slowly. "They need numbers."
"Exactly," Meruem replied. "Each new cultist increases the total output. Each act committed in the spirits' name amplifies it further. They are accumulating influence until they can anchor themselves more firmly in this world."
"They believe they will become gods," Rossweisse muttered quietly.
"They fancy themselves gods already," Meruem answered. "This is simply the next step. And if left unchecked, they may succeed. However meager their chances may be."
"They must be either extremely stupid or arrogant to use faith energy in such a way," Rossweisse remarked, her brows knitting slightly.
"Why is that?" Amras asked, seeming truly interested.
Rossweisse folded her hands before her, choosing her words with care. "Because faith is not merely a source of power. It is to influence and be influenced in return. Gods are not like devils. Most of them are manifestations of nature itself, concepts given form. Many existed long before humanity ever learned how to pray. Even without worshippers, true gods can exist independently and remain powerful."
She continued, her voice steady. "However, all gods possess the ability to gather faith-energy from those who believe in them. They can use it to strengthen themselves, extend their reach, or even perform miracles. It is an efficient source of power, which is exactly why it is dangerous."
"Dangerous how?" Amras frowned.
"The faith of worshippers shapes the god that receives it," Rossweisse explained. "Every belief, every expectation, every story told about a god leaves an imprint. The more faith energy a god draws upon, the stronger that influence becomes. If enough people believe a god behaves in a certain way, then over time the god begins to act that way. Not consciously. It becomes instinct."
Athaliah felt a chill creep up her spine as Rossweisse spoke.
"In extreme cases," Rossweisse went on, "the god's personality fractures. They can develop split identities or lose their sense of self entirely. Eventually, they become nothing more than a reflection of what mortals believe them to be.
"Before the Great War for example, the Greek gods sought greater power. They expanded their worship beyond Greece and into the Roman Empire. Their faith grew immensely, far beyond their natural limits."
"And it worked?" Amras asked slowly.
"Yes," Rossweisse replied. "They became far more powerful. But their personalities began to change, molded by Roman values. Militarism. Conquest. Authority. Over time, they were no longer truly Greek gods. They were becoming Roman ones and losing themselves."
Athaliah's eyes widened slightly as understanding dawned.
"The Greek gods realized what was happening before it was too late," Rossweisse continued. "They forcibly divided themselves, splitting their identities into two pantheons. The Greek gods and the Roman gods. In doing so, they preserved their original selves, but the act weakened both pantheons greatly."
Meruem nodded, clearly pleased with the explanation.
"That is the risk of relying too heavily on faith energy," Rossweisse finished. "Power gained at the cost of identity. There is a reason God uses faith energy only for resurrection or in dire circumstances. Those forest spirits are gambling that the result will favor them. "
"And if they lose," Athaliah said quietly.
"Then they cease to be themselves," Meruem answered calmly. "Or worse. They become gods shaped entirely by fear, blood, and ignorance. Creatures like that do not remain contained for long."
This was far more serious than she had ever imagined. She had assumed it to be the work of charlatans manipulating gullible devils into wreaking havoc, or perhaps a covert scheme by rival pillar houses meant to weaken her family's standing.
Yet what she was now faced with went far beyond political maneuvering or petty cult activity, and the realization settled heavily in her chest.
"This is more dangerous than we had imagined," she said after steadying her breathing, forcing her voice to remain composed. "Then we should return at once and make suitable preparations to deal with this properly. I will send word to the capital and request additional reinforcements."
The malignant spirit had likely been worshipped for over a century. There was no way to know how much power it had accumulated during that time, but the sudden boldness of the cult suggested it had reached a threshold of confidence.
She doubted that a handful of high class devils, no matter how skilled, would be sufficient to deal with such a threat.
"My beloved elder sister," Meruem said, amusement coloring his voice. "I am the reinforcement."
"Brother, I know you are powerful," she replied, trying to reason with him. "But this is not the time to let pride get the better of you. We are too few and too unprepared. It is simply too risky to continue. We will die meaninglessly."
"You may return if you wish," Meruem replied evenly. "But you will do so without me."
Idiot.
Why now of all times did he choose to become unreasonable. As if she would ever abandon her brother to certain death.
"Prince Meruem is right, master," Amras interjected smoothly, his smile infuriating in its calm confidence. "It would be wiser to deal with the problem before it grows large enough to cause irreparable damage. I believe we should stay and support the prince."
Any lingering doubt Athaliah had evaporated in that moment. Amras may not have planned everything, she was certain of that, yet he recognized opportunity when it presented itself. Meruem required no elaborate trap. His pride alone was enough to place him in danger.
Fortunately, she had anticipated the possibility of such recklessness. Without any outward sign, she activated the emergency formula she had prepared in advance, alerting her peerage to summon reinforcements at once, and silently prayed that they would arrive in time.
"You are right," she said aloud, forcing a nervous chuckle to sell the lie. "I suppose I allowed my imagination to dwell too much on the worst possible outcome."
"Brilliant," Meruem said cheerfully. "I am glad you decided to put your faith in me, sister dearest."
She did not laugh at his terrible pun.
"Tough crowd," he muttered under his breath before straightening. "I would like to speak with you in private, Athaliah. There are matters we need to discuss."
Unease stirred within her. She nodded regardless and followed him deeper into the forest. Rossweisse and Adira remained behind, with Rossweisse beginning to explain the nature of faith and gods to the attentive Adira. Amras, however, moved to follow.
Meruem halted abruptly. He turned, crimson eyes spinning as they locked directly onto Amras.
"I want to speak with my sister alone," Meruem said coldly.
"Of course, my prince," Amras replied, bowing quickly. "My apologies."
He retreated without protest.
She found herself strangely grateful for these brief moments of freedom her brother granted her, even if unintentionally.
"He follows around like a lost puppy," Meruem remarked lightly as they walked.
"He is my queen and my right hand," she said defensively. "It is only natural."
Meruem merely hummed in response. They continued in silence for a short while before stopping behind an enormous tree whose trunk was so wide it could have hidden a small building.
With a subtle motion of his hand, Meruem cast a silence spell, and the forest sounds around them faded into nothing.
Athaliah's breath caught.
Anxiety bloomed instantly, sharp and suffocating. Her instincts screamed at her, warning her that this clearing had become a place apart from the rest of the world. A place where no one would hear her voice. A place where nothing could interfere.
Meruem had never hidden his disdain for his half siblings, and she had never believed herself to be an exception.
Standing alone before him now, the massive tree at her back like a wall of stone, she felt exposed in a way she had not since her enslavement. His unreadable crimson eyes met hers and a tremor ran through her entire body.
Her senses sharpened painfully. Every rustle of leaves. Every shift of his weight. The faint pressure of his demonic presence pressing down on her chest. She found herself counting her breaths, shallow and uneven, afraid that even the sound of them might provoke him.
"What do you think?" Meruem asked calmly, though she sensed that the question was not directed at her at all.
"Meow!"
"Meow!"
She looked past him, startled, and saw a black cat emerge from the mist, its golden eyes gleaming with an intelligence that made her skin crawl. Behind it stepped a frail looking girl with her wheat blond hair catching the dim light, her delicate beauty almost out of place in the oppressive forest.
The cat's form shifted fluidly, its body stretching and reshaping as demonic energy surged, until a woman stood in its place.
Athaliah recognized her instantly.
A voluptuous young woman with long black hair parted by split bangs and hazel gold eyes with cat like pupils smiled with unmistakable confidence.
Kuroka, the infamous devil who had murdered her own master after being intoxicated by power.
"There is no doubt about it, master," Kuroka said, her voice sharp with disdain as her gaze fixed on Athaliah. "She is compromised. I don't know how, but I can sense her queen's life force within her."
The words barely registered before panic consumed her.
Wha-?
How did she know that?
Panic surged through Athaliah, sharp and overwhelming, as terror wrapped around her heart.
Compromised. That was the word. That was the sentence. They believed she had been tainted, infiltrated, turned. Her chest tightened as understanding crashed down upon her.
Is that why you brought me here, brother?
The forest suddenly felt deliberate. The isolation. The silence. The way he had led her away from the others without resistance. Like a shepherd guiding someone into the wilderness, far from witnesses, far from help.
So you can kill me easily?
Her heart began to pound so loudly she was certain he could hear it. Each beat echoed in her ears, drowning out reason. She met Meruem's gaze and found no hesitation there. Devoid of warmth.
He began to walk toward her.
Each step was measured and unhurried, his presence growing heavier with every inch he closed. Time seemed warped around him. The distance between them shrank too slowly to endure and too quickly to escape.
I am going to be killed, she realized with terror.
Her demonic energy stirred instinctively, then faltered. She reached for it desperately, urging it to answer her call. Nothing came.
Her limbs felt distant, unresponsive, as though her body no longer belonged to her. Her fingers twitched uselessly at her sides. Her legs refused to move.
Fear sharpened her awareness to agony. She noticed the texture of bark pressing into her back. The damp earth beneath her boots. The way the air felt thinner with each breath.
I want to live. I don't want to die. I haven't even lived for myself yet.
Her thoughts spiraled as memories flooded her mind in a chaotic rush. Her father's arms around her. Her mother's smile. The pride of being cherished, of being seen. Long nights studying at the academy, excelling, earning admiration.
Then the chains. Amras' hideous grin. The slow erosion of her freedom.
She remembered the fragile happiness she felt when her siblings were born. Holding them carefully, promising herself that she would protect them. That she would give them a future brighter than her own.
And now one of them stood before her as her end.
Her life felt painfully small in that moment, reduced to a series of fleeting joys and quiet suffering. Alone beneath the towering trees, cut off from the world, she wondered if this was always how it would end.
In silence. At the hands of someone she once held dear.
All alone.
The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was her brother's dispassionate expression, his blood red eyes glowing intensely as the sigils within them spun wildly, burning themselves into her vision even as consciousness slipped away.
AN: This story is three chapters ahead on patreon with more coming. Consider supporting me there: patreon.com/abeltargaryen?