The throne's pulse faded into a low, steady hum.
Aren was still adjusting to the weight of it when slow, deliberate applause echoed through the hall.
Clap.Clap.Clap.
Lilith turned first, amused. Morgana's hand shifted slightly closer to her sword.
From the far right archway stepped a woman with obsidian skin and silver hair tied neatly behind her back. Her eyes—violet, sharp, endlessly calculating—took in the room in a single sweep: the throne, the cracks in the stone, the lingering tension in the air.
She smiled faintly.
"So this is the successor," she said. "Hmmm. Smaller than expected."
Aren straightened. "And you are?"
She gave a shallow bow—precise, polite, and utterly empty of reverence."Nyx of the Umbral Courts. Strategist. Diplomat. Occasionally survivor."
Lilith snorted. "You forgot 'insufferable.'"
Nyx's smile didn't falter. "Only to those who prefer chaos over clarity."
Morgana's eyes narrowed. "State your purpose. Now."
Nyx lifted her hands slightly, palms open. "Relax, General. If I meant harm, this throne room would already be sealed—and you would be arguing with shadows."
The hall seemed to tighten around her words.
Aren studied her. She isn't afraid. Not of the throne. Not of me.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
"You didn't kneel," Aren said.
Nyx's gaze shifted to him fully now. Sharp. Assessing."No," she replied calmly. "Because kneeling implies belief. And belief… is earned."
Nyx began to pace slowly, her boots clicking softly against the stone.
"The Demon Realm is unstable," she said, as if discussing the weather. "Factions are already moving. Three dukes have sealed their borders. One is mobilizing troops. Another is preparing an assassination attempt."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Already? That's faster than usual."
Nyx nodded. "They don't fear him yet."
Aren felt the words settle into his chest. "And what do you think?" he asked.
Nyx stopped walking. "I think you are a variable. Dangerous—not because of strength, but because you hesitate."
Morgana stiffened. "Hesitation is not weakness."
"Agreed," Nyx said smoothly. "But uncertainty is exploitable."
She turned back to Aren. "Tell me, successor: if one of those dukes rebels tomorrow, will you execute them… or negotiate?"
Aren didn't answer immediately.
The throne stirred.
"I would want to understand why they rebelled," he said finally. "Before deciding."
Nyx's eyes gleamed. "Interesting."
Lilith tilted her head. "You sound disappointed."
"On the contrary," Nyx replied. "A tyrant is predictable. A thoughtful ruler… changes the board."
She stepped closer to the throne, stopping just short of the invisible pressure that had made lesser demons recoil.
"I will not serve you," she said plainly. "Not yet."
Aren met her gaze. "But you're still here."
Nyx smiled, sharper now. "Because I believe you might become worth serving."
Silence fell again, but this time it felt different.
Not hostile.
Evaluative.
"What do you want?" Aren asked.
Nyx inclined her head slightly. "Time. Access. And the freedom to observe your decisions."
Morgana frowned. "That is dangerous."
"Yes," Nyx agreed. "Which is why it is valuable."
Lilith chuckled. "Oh, I like her already."
Aren exhaled slowly, then nodded once. "You can stay."
Nyx's eyes widened—just a fraction.
"But," Aren continued, "you don't manipulate my people behind my back. You advise. You warn. You argue if you must. If you cross that line we're done."
The throne pulsed once.
Nyx bowed again—this time, deeper. Still not kneeling."Then I accept. As an observer… and your strategist."
As she straightened, her gaze lingered on Aren, thoughtful."Interesting," she murmured. "You didn't demand loyalty. You set boundaries."
Aren leaned back, exhaustion tugging at him again. "I'm learning as I go."
Nyx smiled softly. "Good. Because the game has already begun."
The hall seemed to breathe in unison.
Four women.Four judgments.None of them fully his Yet.