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The air in the Purple Demon Kingdom's grand hall was thick, not with the usual pomp, but with the suffocating weight of a devastating truth. A chilling silence had fallen after Liora's admission, shattered only by the ragged breaths of those present.
Kneeling before Dylan, Liora, the embodiment of cold loyalty and ancient power, looked utterly broken. Her eyes, usually burning with an unwavering conviction, were now clouded with deep, agonizing regret.
"Actually, I was... there," she murmured, her voice a hollow whisper that barely carried in the vast chamber. "When your father was killed..."
Before she could complete the sentence, Dylan moved like a shadow. His shock was a tangible force, overriding every instinct save one: knowing the identity of his father's true killer. He rushed to Liora, gripping her shoulders, his eyes wide and demanding, reflecting the anguish building in his soul.
"Who... is that?"
Liora, lifting her gaze, met his intensity with a slow, bitter smirk that didn't reach her wounded eyes. "But you had already avenged him, hadn't you?"
Dylan's grasp tightened, his mind racing through the foes he had vanquished. He had pursued so many, always guided by the belief that the war itself was the killer.
Liora's eyes, suddenly devoid of light and filled with a terrifying darkness, fixed on him. The smirk vanished. The revelation was delivered with the clinical precision of a blade.
"The one who killed your father is Xander."
The name echoed in the profound silence. Dylan stared, the words failing to register as reality.
Irin, Ren, Lia, and the Heavenly Ancestors present were frozen, their collective gasp of shock a ragged wave. Xander—the respected, the ancient, the one believed to be an honorable enemy of the Great Demon King, a figure thought to have perished in the chaos of war—was the assassin?
A choked, guttural sound tore from Dylan's throat. All control snapped. He lunged, his hand a vice around Liora's slender neck, lifting her slightly from the floor.
"You lie!" he roared, the sound laced with absolute, raw agony. "You lie!"
Liora clawed at his hand, her face contorting in struggle, yet her eyes held a strange mix of defiance and sorrow. With a surge of her fierce, dark magic, she shoved Dylan's hand away. He stumbled back, his arm tingling with the residual shock of her power.
She looked at him, her breathing ragged, yet her voice was chillingly calm. "Don't believe me, then. Look."
Liora extended her arm, and the reality of the hall dissolved, replaced by a shimmering, horrifying vision—a hallucination created from the depths of her past memory.
The vision flickered to life: the shadowed, ancient chamber of the Great Demon King, Alex. Young Xander, his face etched with a mix of grim resolve and betrayal, stood over the fallen figure of Alex. The Great Demon King, wounded but not defeated by the war, looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief as Xander raised a slender, dark dagger. The blade plunged deep. Behind a massive, carved door, a figure—Liora, young cold Queen and panicked—watched the final, fatal act before vanishing into the shadows, a desperate whisper of magic.
The vision snapped, leaving behind only the cold reality of the hall and the scent of pulverized dust.
Dylan was on his knees, his hands pressed into the cold floor, his head bowed. The truth was an unbearable weight, crushing the carefully built structure of his vengeance. He hadn't avenged his father; he had merely been used as a pawn in a greater, darker scheme. The raw, desperate sound of his sorrow filled the air as he finally burst into tears, a Great Demon King reduced to a mourning son.
Irin was instantly by his side, enveloping him in a tight, protective hug, murmuring reassurances into his hair. Lia began to sob, the betrayal of Xander hitting her with the force of a personal tragedy. Ren rushed to her, pulling her close and offering quiet comfort.
Liora stood apart, a pillar of unfeeling stone, her magic exhausted, her expression utterly vacant.
"I know you doubt why I was there," she said, her voice flat, devoid of warmth. "Xander asked me to kill your father. He had planned to use me as the scapegoat. But before I reached the chamber, he did it himself. He wanted to end the Great War by killing the Great Demon King. Your father was an obstacle to his vision of 'peace'."
Dylan slowly raised his head, his eyes red and swollen, and saw the faint, desperate glow of red magic in Liora's eyes.
"Why, Liora?" he asked, his voice cracking with a chilling calm. "Why did you too want to kill my father ? You should have told me the truth."
A surge of pure, frustrated rage pulsed from Liora. Her face twisted into a snarl of pain and fury.
"Actually, I didn't want to! That bastard Xander—he trapped me! He stole my memory, the memory of my daughter! How she lost from me ?. I had no choice but to follow his order. He promised! But the bastard... he broke his word. He never gave it back." Her voice ended on a desolate cry.
Dylan, listening to her agonizing confession, finally understood the full, monstrous scale of Xander's deception. He mourned for his father, mourned the years spent chasing the wrong ghost, and the life Xander had twisted. Irin held him tighter, her own grief for his pain silent but profound. The Great Demon King wept, finding solace only in the embrace of his Queen.
💐 Three Months Later: A Whispered Promise
The cold, brutal air of the Purple Demon Kingdom was a distant, painful memory.
Three months had passed, and the Blue Moon Kingdom, bathed in soft, ethereal light, thrived in a season of peace. In the grand, sunlit hall, Irin, the Demon King's Queen, was meticulously arranging a lavish display of vibrant, exotic flowers. She moved with an innate grace, a skill honed during her childhood among the fairies, her touch bringing life to every bloom.
Now, her own life was blooming, too. Her slender frame was gently rounded, her belly showing the subtle, sweet swelling of a three-month pregnancy.
Suddenly, a pair of strong, familiar arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a hard, warm chest.
Irin chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "I know, my King. That's Dylan."
He warmly kissed her cheek, then rested his head on her shoulder, inhaling the scent of flowers and her skin. "Are you done, my love?"
Irin nodded, leaning back into his embrace. "Yes. When will they arrive?"
Dylan straightened, a sudden, playful panic in his eyes. "Oh, no! We are late! They must be here now!"
Irin gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh! Give me a moment! I must check if the food is properly prepared in the kitchen!"
"No need," Dylan chuckled, gently spinning her around. "The servants have it handled. You have to come with me. To greet them. To inaugurate them."
She rushed forward, but Dylan grabbed her hand, pulling her back with a firm but tender grip. "Wait. Slow, my Queen. You are not the only one moving. You are carrying our baby, too."
Irin's eyes softened, and a profound, radiant smile lit her face. "Of course, Your Majesty."
She took a deliberate, slow step towards the exit, then, with a flash of mischief, she quickly leaned in and planted a swift, loving kiss on his lips. Then, she walked fast, leaving him momentarily stunned.
Dylan's eyes widened, then a slow, pleased smirk spread across his face. "It's cheating!" he called after her, following his Queen with long, hurried strides.
📜 The Drenched Truth
In a secluded, dimly lit chamber in the Blue Moon palace, Zerath, the ancient and learned demon, was immersed in his studies. He was old, his wisdom vast, yet his brow was furrowed with a sudden, profound fear.
He hurried to a tall, rickety bookshelf, his hands trembling as he searched desperately, pathetically, for something.
"No way," he whispered, frustrated, when his initial search failed. "Ah, let's look there."
He moved to another shelf and carefully retrieved a small, iron-banded box. Inside, he found a rolled, ancient scroll. On its parchment, written in a fading, ominous script, were the words: Drenched Truth.
Zerath's eyes widened in horror. He unfurled it and began to read. His eyes trembled, his breath catching in his throat. The scroll slipped from his numb fingers and clattered to the floor.
"If this happened... it would be a Disaster," he whispered, a tremor running through his aged frame.
A maid knocked and entered, curtsying deeply. "Lord Zerath, the King and Queen invite you to the luncheon."
Zerath nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "I shall attend."
🍽️ The Grand Dining Table
In the formal dining room, the atmosphere was one of pure, unadulterated domestic bliss. Lia, the Heavenly King Ren, Dylan, her brother, and Irin were gathered around the large, polished table.
Irin, though the Queen, was happily helping the servants place the final dishes, her presence more that of a joyful hostess than royalty. They laughed, shared stories, and talked with the easy intimacy of family, stitching together the bonds that Xander had sought to destroy.
However, a faint, familiar chill lingered between Ren and Dylan. The king of demons and the king of heaven still maintained a courteous, yet cold, distance.
Irin, noticing the subtle tension, delivered a quick, sharp pinch to Dylan's arm under the table. Talk to your guest properly, her look commanded.
Lia, noticing the same, did the same to Ren.
Just then, Zerath entered. The entire table rose, greeting the ancient demon with respect. Zerath smiled warmly, acknowledging the young family before they all settled to eat.
Dylan, catching Irin's eye as she turned away, grabbed her hand. "Come sit with us."
"Later," she said softly.
"No," Dylan insisted, his voice gentle but firm. He gently pulled her into the chair beside him. She couldn't deny the fierce, protective care in his eyes.
Irin gave up the fight. "If I didn't sit, what would you have done, my King?" she challenged, a playful glint in her eyes.
Dylan leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "If you didn't, I might have kissed you right here. Then you would have had no choice but to sit, wouldn't you?" He smirked, his eyes full of wicked charm.
Irin gasped, a sharp, delightful hiccup escaping her lips.
Dylan immediately poured a glass of water and handed it to her, his smirk widening.
After drinking, she playfully swatted his arm. "Dylan! Everybody is here! Don't be naughty!"
Dylan simply chuckled.
Lia narrowed her eyes, watching their intimate exchange with a knowing, happy smile. "What's going on here? My brother seems particularly... attentive."
Dylan smiled openly.
"Nothing, Lia," Irin said, patting her stomach lightly. "Your brother just can't wait for his baby to arrive."
Dylan leaned in again, whispering only for her. "Yes, you are right. And after this one, my Queen... we have to plan for another baby immediately."
Irin's eyes widened, and she let out another involuntary hiccup. Dylan, already prepared, offered the water glass, his face alight with laughter and triumph.
Lia watched the lovely moment between her brother and her friend, a deep, contented warmth in her heart.
Ren turned his head towards Lia, his lips curving in a playful smirk. "You have to give some attention to your husband, too, my Queen."
Lia smiled, acknowledging his need for affection.
Zerath watched the family reunion—the laughter, the secret whispers, the profound happiness—and his heart swelled.
But his smile suddenly vanished.
"How long can this happiness last?" he whispered to himself, his eyes clouded with dread. He closed his eyes, remembering the ancient, terrifying prophecy he had just read:
—Not every child born from a Great Demon and a Goddess will possess special power. Instead, that child may lead disaster to the world. Especially a child born when one of the child's parents is a mix of Demon and Goddess. You can identify that ill-omen child by birth: on the time of birth, one of the child's parents must die.
Zerath's eyes snapped open. Tears welled up and tracked down his withered cheeks. He knew the mix: Irin is a goddess, but Dylan was the child of a goddess and a Great Demon —a fatal mix in the ancient texts.
"I won't let anything happen to Dylan and Irin," he whispered fiercely, watching the two, his tears falling silently onto his lap.
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Do you want Season Two? Then comment me!
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