Dinner in the Obsidian dungeon was never lively for Naya.
The great hall was silent, the only glow coming from the molten rivers running beneath the glass floor.
At the center of the big table sat Naya, the only occupant, meticulously cutting a slice of toasted meat. She ate with no real interest but it was a habit she had.
No one else would dare share this table with her. Most demons were afraid or would rather the lower halls, where the atmosphere was better and people could laugh and joke.
Naya day has been really calm. Reports filed, patrols silent. And tonight no sign of the masked girl.
She poured herself another glass, watching the red liquid swirl. " So," she murmured to herself, " she finally decided not to come back."
Her voice echoed through the empty hall. She thought it would have pleased her, less work but it felt weird.
Still, peace was nice too. She leaned back, one arm resting on the chair, eyes half closed. Perhaps she could finish a meal without interruption for on….
A sharp sound came from Naya's silver ring on her left hand.
Naya sighed, setting down her glass. "Of course."
She rose, straightening her coat, and pressed the center gem of the ring. "Accept."
A few seconds later the image of the Demon king appeared, life sized, lounging on an obsidian sofa that looked ready to break under his weight.
His skin was a deep crimson; big horns on his forehead, massive demon wings and golden eyes.
"Naya," he said, voice low. "You take your time answering."
"I was dining, Your Majesty."
"You still eat?" His mouth curved in faint mockery. "I thought discipline had replaced appetite by now."
"Old habits," she said dryly.
He chuckled, then exhaled through his nose—a sound halfway between amusement and irritation.
"I called because I'm bored, and boredom is dangerous. Tell me something useful. How goes my fortress of glass and lava?"
"As efficient as ever," she replied. "No threats, no breaches worth mentioning."
"No threats," he repeated, stretching one wing lazily.
"And yet humans keep sending incompetent people. One even reached the first floor of my own castle this morning. First floor, Naya. Then died killed by a lesser demon ."
Her expression didn't shift. "Unfortunate."
"Pathetic," the King corrected, sitting up. "Have they truly become so weak ? There was a time human heroes came with armies. Now they come with nothing but big mouth to say nonsense ."
He leaned forward. "Perhaps it's time to remind them what fear looks like."
The implication hung heavy in the air.
Naya clasped her hands behind her back.
"You intend to attack."
"I'm considering it. The western provinces grow impatient ; they are mocking our silence. But war must be beautifuly cruel, not messy. For that, I need you."
"Of course."
"You'll plan it," he continued. "The routes, the timing, the attack. No one orchestrates destruction like my Black Flame."
Naya bowed her head slightly. "Flattering as always, Majesty. But if I may—perhaps patience would serve better than spectacle. Let the humans believe they're safe."
The King tilted his head, intrigued. "Explain."
"They're building defenses against nothing," she said.
"Their faith will biggest mistake. Their swords will rust. When you strike, it will be swift and absolute. A single day will do what a century of battles cannot."
He regarded her for a long moment, the faintest smile curving his mouth. "And that, my dear general, is why you're indispensable."
He lounged back again, satisfied. "Very well. We'll wait. But I expect you to keep the lower realms quiet in the meantime. Rumors reach even me about fool using your emblem."
Naya's eyes flickered. "Handled."
"Good." He stretched, wings brushing the edge of the projection.
"You've always been efficient, Naya. Though sometimes I wonder if you aren't too detached. I recall when you lived getting out fighting for the demons ."
She allowed a small smirk. "That was a younger century."
"Still," he said softly, gaze narrowing, "one might think you're growing bored."
"Boredom is better than chaos," she replied.
"Perhaps." The King studied her for another heartbeat, then dismissed the thought with a wave.
"I'll contact you again once I tire of peace. Don't make me regret trusting your patience."
"You won't," she said.
The hologram flickered; his form dissolved into sparks of red light that faded into the air.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
Naya remained standing, eyes on the empty space where his image had been. Her reflection in the glass floor stared back, expression unreadable.
Let them believe they are safe. She'd meant every word. The humans needed time—to build, to relax, to forget what danger was like.
Yet a small part of her wondered if she'd spoken for strategy or for herself.
Because if the King moved now, the first territory to burn would be Ardenthal.
Her jaw tightened.
She dismissed the thought, returning to her chair. "Irrelevant," she murmured.