The throne hall emptied slowly, like smoke curling through broken glass. Demons in gilded armor and black robes melted back into the corridors, their eyes flicking once at Ethan before vanishing into shadow. The Queen's command—Council dismissed—still echoed in his ears.
He stood frozen, clutching his chest where the fire-sphere had struck. His heartbeat hadn't slowed.
He'd survived. Somehow.
But survival, he realized, wasn't the same as safety.
"Move," Morgana snapped at him as she strode past, her armor clattering like thunder. She didn't look back, but her jaw was set tight, golden eyes storming with barely concealed fury.
Selene lingered, her expression unreadable. Mist curled around her as though whispering secrets only she could hear. "Do not fear too much, Ethan," she murmured. "Even the darkest shadow is shaped by the light it hides."
"Yeah," Ethan croaked, "problem is, I'm usually the guy fumbling for a flashlight that's out of batteries."
She almost smiled before dissolving into silver haze.
And Lilith? Lilith paused at the door, crimson eyes gleaming. "Enjoy your reprieve, little mortal. My mother finds you amusing—for now."
Then she was gone too.
Leaving him alone.
Alone with the knowledge that he'd been tested by the most powerful being in this realm, and she hadn't decided whether to crush him or keep him.
---
But the Queen hadn't dismissed everyone.
As the sisters vanished, shadows gathered at the long obsidian table. Not mist, not smoke—beings. Ethan hadn't noticed them before, but now they stepped into view: the Demon Lords.
Seven in all, each distinct, each radiating power in different flavors of menace.
A towering brute clad in scaled armor that smoked with heat.
A horned figure in robes that dripped with ink-black symbols.
A slender woman whose smile was all knives, her fingers ending in claws like obsidian glass.
And others—warlords, sorcerers, creatures Ethan had no names for.
They bowed as one to the Queen.
The air thickened.
The Queen remained seated on her throne, fire crown dimmed but eyes bright. "We proceed," she said, her voice cold iron wrapped in velvet. "The mortal remains."
The lords shifted, muttering among themselves.
The horned one spoke first, his voice like gravel grinding. "A mortal has no place in council. His presence is an insult."
"An insult," hissed another, her claws gleaming, "or a shield? If the Queen finds him useful, who are we to object?"
The brute slammed a fist against the table. "He is weak. His bones will snap in battle. Better to feed him to the pits."
Ethan raised a hand timidly. "Hi, uh, still standing right here. Quick note, not really interested in the pits, thank you."
No one looked at him. The debate rolled on as if he were already dust.
The Queen silenced them with a single raised finger. "You mistake my intent."
Her gaze swept the table. "The mortal is not here to fight. He is here to unsettle. To draw lines. To force my daughters into motion."
The lords shifted again, uneasy.
The robed figure leaned forward, symbols crawling across his skin like living tattoos. "Then he is bait."
The Queen's lips curved faintly. "He is possibility."
That word struck Ethan harder than the fire-sphere. Possibility. As if he were a door she might open, or slam shut.
One of the lords muttered, "And what of Kael?"
A silence rippled through the room.
Kael. The demon who had nearly killed Ethan in the arena.
The Queen's eyes darkened, molten gold burning hotter. "Kael is no longer… loyal. He has forgotten who forged him. He will be reminded."
Her tone carried promise, and threat. Ethan had no doubt that somewhere, Kael felt that promise closing in.
The Queen rose, her presence drowning the chamber again. "Our enemies gather. The Celestials stir above their borders. The Wraith-King fortifies his throne. And within these walls, ambition sharpens its knives."
Her gaze lingered on the lords, long enough that more than one shifted uncomfortably.
"Let them watch the mortal," she said. "Let them wonder why I keep him. Let them fear what I see that they do not."
It was brilliant. Ethan realized, even through his panic, what she was doing. He wasn't just her amusement. He was a weapon—not a sword, but a rumor. A question. A living question mark dangled in front of demons who hated questions.
And questions, he guessed, were more dangerous here than blades.
---
When the council finally dispersed, Ethan sagged against a pillar, sweat beading his forehead.
The Queen had dismissed her lords with casual commands, and one by one they'd vanished into portals of smoke, flame, or worse. Now it was just him.
He dared a glance at the throne.
The Queen sat again, still as a statue, her golden eyes closed. She looked carved from shadow itself, eternal and untouchable.
But then her eyes snapped open.
"Approach."
Ethan nearly tripped over himself. "Me? Oh, sure, just—yep, walking toward the terrifying fire lady, totally not a bad idea."
He stumbled closer, until the heat from her crown of flame made his skin prickle.
"You begin to see," she said quietly.
"See what?"
"That power wears many forms. Steel. Fire. Shadow. And sometimes…" Her gaze pierced him, molten gold boring into his very marrow. "…chance."
Ethan swallowed. "Okay. But if I'm, like, Chance the Rapper in this metaphor, can I get a tour bus out of here?"
The Queen did not smile, but something flickered in her eyes—amusement, maybe, or interest.
"You will remain under my daughters' watch. You will move through the palace, seen by all. Let them whisper. Let them fear. You need not understand your role, mortal. You need only endure."
Ethan wanted to argue. He wanted to scream that he wasn't a chess piece, wasn't bait, wasn't whatever crazy gamble she thought he was.
But he remembered the fire burning into him, remembered how close he'd come to death just by standing in her presence.
So he just nodded. Weakly.
"Endure. Right. Got it."
The Queen leaned back, shadows swallowing her form once more. "Good."
And with that single word, Ethan was dismissed.
---
As he stumbled out of the throne room, he couldn't shake the chill crawling down his spine.
The Queen had shown her hand—not to him, but to her lords, her daughters, her enemies unseen.
And Ethan realized, with a sick twist in his gut, that he was no longer just surviving in the Demon Realm.
He was a piece on the board.
And worse, he wasn't sure which side he was even playing for.