The road was cloaked in mist, thick and heavy, curling over jagged stones like breath from the underworld itself.
Velia walked at the head of the company, her dark cloak billowing, serpent-green eyes gleaming with unholy light. Behind her stretched a procession of rogues in shadowed armor, witches with twisted staffs glowing faintly with runes, pale vampires whispering in tongues, and hulking werewolves prowling in silence.
At her side walked Gavriel—the once-proud incubus warrior, his wings clipped of loyalty, his smirk sharp as a blade. His eyes lingered on Velia often, both wary and enthralled.
"You've gathered quite the parade of monsters," Gavriel muttered as they wove between the twisted trees of the black forest. "But tell me, Velia… what makes them follow you? Most of these creatures care for nothing but blood and chaos."
Velia smiled, a slow, serpentine curve of lips.
"They follow because I gave them purpose. A promise."
Her voice carried, sharp enough for those behind to hear. "They were cast aside. Rogues branded traitors, witches exiled, vampires denied seats of power, wolves stripped of their packs. They all know the sting of rejection. And I—" she spread her arms dramatically, the mist seeming to coil tighter around her form "—I gave them something greater than scraps. I offered them vengeance. A chance to rip down the kingdom that shunned them."
A murmur rose through the gathered masses—low, guttural, hungry.
Gavriel tilted his head, intrigued. "And where exactly are you leading them, my dear serpent?"
Velia's gaze cut to him, glinting. "To my birthplace. The Serpent Village."
The words dripped venom. A ripple of unease traveled through even the boldest among them.
A wolf-shifter broke the silence, his voice rough. "The Serpent Village? That cursed ground where nothing grows, where bones still burn in the earth? Why there?"
Velia's smile widened, cruel and intoxicating.
"Because beneath its soil sleeps the oldest power this world has ever known. The Serpent Demon. Not just a beast, not just a monster—an entity older than kings, older than even the walls of the Citadel. Sealed away by cowards who feared his dominion."
Her eyes burned brighter, her voice deepening with fervor. "He was chained in the hollow of the earth, left to rot, left to slumber. But his blood runs through mine. The serpent in me calls to the serpent in him. And I will awaken him."
The rogues exchanged nervous glances. The witches grinned, their teeth blackened, muttering in approval.
Gavriel arched a brow, lips curling. "Awaken him? And what then? Surely you don't expect to control such a creature."
Velia stepped closer to him, her gaze like venom dripping onto steel. "Control? No. Rule beside him. Imagine it, Gavriel—the underworld bent, broken, remade under the coils of the Serpent. Hades will regret the day he scorned me, the day he chose that pale princess over me. He will kneel, or he will burn."
The witches hissed in delight. The vampires' eyes gleamed red, their fangs flashing. Even the werewolves gave low growls of approval, though unease still lingered in their gaze.
Gavriel chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Your hatred for Hades burns brighter than even my lust for war. I almost admire it." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a silken whisper. "But tell me, Velia—when the serpent wakes, what makes you think he'll see you as his equal and not his prey?"
Velia's laughter cut through the mist, sharp as broken glass.
"Because I am his kin. His blood. The Serpent was not just buried in my village. He birthed it. My ancestors made their pact with him, carried his essence in our veins. I am not prey, Gavriel. I am his chosen."
Her words sent a chill crawling down the spines of even the fiercest rogues.
---
The company pressed on, deeper into the forest. The ground grew darker, soil turning to ash, the trees twisting as though writhing in agony. Birds no longer sang here. The only sound was the crunch of boots, the slither of Velia's voice, and the ever-present hiss of unseen serpents weaving through the roots.
Hours passed, and soon they stood upon a cliff overlooking a valley cloaked in eternal shadow. At its center lay ruins, shattered huts and shrines consumed by vines, bones scattered like offerings. A massive pit yawned in the earth, shrouded by a sickly green mist.
Velia spread her arms, her voice reverent.
"Home."
Gavriel gazed down, his smirk dimming. "This is your village?"
Velia's lips parted, and for a moment there was almost softness in her eyes. "What's left of it. My mother's cries still echo here. My father's blood stains the earth. They were slaughtered when I was a child, their throats cut by the same demons who now sing praises to Hades. I grew among ashes, Gavriel. And now I will raise fire from them."
The rogues shifted uneasily. Some spat onto the ground, muttering prayers.
One witch, her voice cracked with age, stepped forward. "And what will you have us do, Lady Velia?"
Velia's smile returned, colder than death. She lifted her hand, and green flames burst to life along her fingers, coiling like snakes.
"We prepare the ritual."
Her voice rose, carrying across the valley, commanding. "Tonight, we bind our power together—blood, fang, claw, and flame. We cut into the earth until the serpent stirs. And when he rises, we will march on the Citadel with a god at our side."
The rogues roared. The vampires hissed, baring fangs in wild approval. The witches lifted their staffs, chanting.
But Gavriel… Gavriel only watched her, his smirk thin, thoughtful. There was hunger in his gaze—not just for power, not just for destruction, but for Velia herself, the fire of her madness drawing him closer even as it burned.
He leaned near her ear, his voice a dark murmur.
"You're either a goddess, or the greatest fool I've ever followed. But damn me if I don't want to see you try."
Velia's eyes never left the pit, the mist curling upward like a beckoning hand. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it dripped with venom.
"Oh, I will try, Gavriel. And when the serpent opens his eyes… the underworld will drown in his shadow. And Hades—" her lips curled into a wicked smile "—Hades will know what it means to be truly forsaken."
The valley echoed with the roars of beasts, the chants of witches, and the hiss of serpents stirring in the soil.
The serpent's call had begun.