The weight of the Demon Queen's gaze was like being crushed beneath a mountain.
Ethan didn't dare move. Every flicker of her golden eyes peeled him open, as though she were reading his past, present, and future all at once. He wanted to vanish, to melt into the obsidian tiles, to become anything other than the very mortal standing at the edge of her throne room.
Her voice broke the silence.
"So… this is the mortal who stirs my daughters into quarrel."
It wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be. The words rolled through the hall like thunder, resonating in bone and blood. Ethan's ears rang.
Morgana dropped to one knee, fist pressed to her chest. "My Queen. He is reckless. Weak. But Selene sees destiny in him. I see danger. That is why I train him."
Selene inclined her head, her voice smooth as silk. "He is not to be dismissed so lightly, sister. Even weakness may carry the seed of change. You of all people should know that."
Lilith's laugh slithered into the silence. "And here we are, performing theater for our mother. Mortal, you must feel very important."
Ethan, very much not feeling important, raised a nervous hand. "Uh, hi. Yeah, sorry to crash family dinner. If there's a door marked 'Exit,' I can—"
The Queen's gaze snapped back to him. He shut up instantly. His stomach flipped like he'd just mouthed off to a dragon.
She rose from her throne. The motion was small, yet the entire hall seemed to bow with her. Cloaked in shadow, crowned in fire, she descended the steps until she stood barely ten feet away. She was tall—taller than Morgana in armor, taller than Lilith's shadows, taller even than the memory of anyone Ethan had ever met. Her presence pressed on his lungs, each breath a labor.
She circled him once, the way Lilith had in his chamber, but slower, more deliberate. He felt dissected, cataloged, weighed. Every instinct screamed that she could end him with a breath, and no one would object.
Finally, she stopped in front of him.
"Tell me, mortal," she said softly. "Why are you here?"
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it again. A hundred answers screamed in his head. I don't know. I wanted bread. Wrong place, wrong portal. Please don't kill me. But something in her gaze demanded more.
"I… don't know," he admitted. "But I'm not here by choice."
The Queen's lips curved—not quite a smile, more like the shadow of one. "Honest. Rare."
Morgana bristled. "Mother, he is dangerous. If Kael had not failed in the arena, we would not be debating this."
"Kael's failure," Lilith purred, "was not the mortal's fault. Perhaps you simply misjudged."
Morgana's hand twitched toward her sword. "Watch your tongue—"
"Enough."
The Queen's word cracked like a whip. Morgana dropped her gaze, her jaw tight. Selene's veil of calm never shifted, though her fingers traced a slow circle in the mist around her, as if she were already seeing beyond this moment.
The Queen tilted her head, studying Ethan again. "My daughters quarrel because of you. Why?"
"I… I have no idea," Ethan said quickly. "Honestly, I don't even know what I'm doing here. One of you tried to kill me, one of you trains me, and one of you—uh—kind of stalks me in the dark."
Lilith smiled, crimson eyes flashing. "He notices."
"Silence," Morgana barked, her pride stung.
Ethan lifted his hands. "See? This. This right here. I didn't come here to start sibling drama. If there's a peace treaty form, I'll sign it."
The Queen's golden eyes narrowed, but not in anger. More in… curiosity. "You jest, even under my gaze. Bold."
Ethan blinked. "Bold or stupid. Usually stupid."
Selene stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "You see it too, do you not, Mother? He should have broken—yet he has not. Fate wraps around him like a veil."
"Perhaps," the Queen murmured. "Or perhaps he is merely stubborn flesh that has not yet been cut deeply enough."
Lilith's smile sharpened. "Why not test him, Mother? Let him prove what he is—chance, or destiny."
Ethan paled. "Wait, test? What kind of test are we talking here? Written? Multiple choice? I'm good at guessing C."
The Queen ignored his plea. She lifted one hand, and black fire coiled into existence between her fingers. It grew into a sphere, pulsing with heat and shadow, each heartbeat making Ethan's bones vibrate. With a flick, she hurled it toward him.
He yelped, stumbling back. The sphere slammed into his chest—yet instead of burning, it sank into him like ink into water. His vision blurred. His knees buckled. He saw flashes—cities burning, stars falling, shadows swallowing whole armies. His own face, screaming.
Then it was gone.
He gasped, clutching his chest, but he was… alive. Shaken, rattled, but alive.
The Queen's golden eyes narrowed, as though she hadn't expected that. "Interesting."
Selene's voice was triumphant. "You see? He endures."
Morgana's was sharp with frustration. "Endures by accident."
Lilith's chuckle echoed like silk tearing. "Or by design."
The Queen raised her hand. Silence fell again. She looked once more at Ethan—no longer like prey, but like a puzzle.
"You will remain," she decreed. "Until I decide what you are."
Ethan blinked. "Uh… remain? As in, here? In this lovely murder-palace? For how long exactly?"
The Queen's gaze silenced him before she answered.
"As long as it amuses me."
She turned, flowing back toward her throne. The braziers dimmed as she sat, her presence folding into the shadows once more.
"Council dismissed."
The sisters bowed. Ethan didn't move, too frozen to even remember how to bend his knees. His mind screamed with a single thought: I survived. I actually survived.
But then another thought followed, darker, heavier.
For how long?
As the hall emptied, he caught Selene's serene glance, Morgana's glare, and Lilith's wicked grin. Each promised something different—guidance, pain, temptation.
And above them all, the Queen's shadow lingered.
He had survived her test. But survival, he realized, was not victory. Survival was the opening move in a game he did not understand.
And games, especially in this palace, never ended kindly.