The muddy wastelands of the Underworld smelled of rot and finality.
Karas stumbled, his boots sinking into a gray, viscous silt . Every breath was a battle. The air was was filled with copper and some unknown scents he couldn't tell , it was a far cry from the fresh morning air of the human realm he had left behind.
His hand went instinctively to his head, fingers brushing the shock of stark white hair that now cut through his dark tresses like a scar. It was the physical receipt of his bargain-a reminder that his life force was now a fraying rope held together by sheer willpower.
"please hang in there Zaliyah, I'm coming," he rasped.
In the distance, the "Mud Freaks"-the lowly beasts that the twins had described-slithered through the shadows. They were amorphous piles of weeping flesh and jagged teeth, feeding on the remains of things that had long since lost their names.
To them, Karas's vibrant human soul was a beacon, a scent so sweet it was practically a dinner bell.
Desperate, Karas knelt by a pool of bubbling, dark mud. With a grimace of pure revulsion, he scooped the cold, foul-smelling mud and smeared it over his face, his neck, and the silver-white streak in his hair. He needed to be invisible. He needed to be nothing.
Meanwhile, within the palace...
The library, which was Zaliyah's sanctuary moments ago, had become a cage. The scent of old dusty books that clouded the air was being drowned out by the overwhelming pressure of Malachi's aura.
"A banquet," Zaliyah repeated, his voice flat, refusing to look up from the tome in his lap.
"To introduce the King's 'Consort.' As if I'm a new piece of furniture you've finally polished enough to show the guests."
"Not furniture," Malachi corrected, his voice deceptively smooth as he paced the length of the rug. "A statement. The court,the council , the generals, the commanders from the four territories-they all need to see that the Hyalopsite Throne has found a white lotus.
Zaliyah finally looked up, his purple eyes flashing with a defiance that would have killed a lesser man. "And if I refuse?".
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. Malachi stopped pacing.
"Then your family would pay the price for your disobedience," Malachi said, the teasing lilt gone, "I have been indulgent, Zaliyah. Do not mistake my patience for a lack of reach."
"They would know the moment I step into that banquet," Zaliyah countered, his grip tightening on the book. "They would know I'm not a demon. I'm a just a fraud in silk."
Malachi let out a short, harsh laugh. "You are indeed a demon. A weak, pathetic half-breed, perhaps, but the blood is there. Hidden, but there, I can feel it ."
Zaliyah rolled his eyes, a spike of reckless sarcasm bubbling up. "Oh, thanks, Malachi. Truly. I was wondering why I felt so subpar today."
Malachi didn't laugh. He moved with a speed that blurred the air, leaning over Zaliyah until their noses nearly touched.
"Listen to me. It is crucial that you do not mess this up. The court is a den of vipers, and right now, they are hungry. Once they smell fear on you, Zaliyah, you're toast. They will tear you apart just to see what's inside."
"Honestly? That sounds better than another night being 'protected' by you," Zaliyah snapped.
Malachi's lip curled into a smirk, though his eyes remained frozen. "Lucky for you, 'dead' isn't on the menu tonight. I'll cover you in my aura before we enter. My scent will be so thick on you that even the High Generals won't be able to trace the source of your core. They'll be too busy choking on my power to notice yours."
The thought of being physically "marked" by Malachi's energy made Zaliyah's stomach turn. "I'd rather not attend. I'm unprepared. I don't know your dances, your politics,your customs or your lies."
CRACK.
Malachi's hands slammed onto the table, the heavy mahogany splintering under his palms. Outside the heavy oak doors, the muffled sound of a gasp broke the silence.
"Bb-brother?" Nyxian's small, trembling voice called out. "b-b-brother?" She banged on the door, her tiny fists making a hollow sound against the wood. "Is-Is everything ok-ay?"
"Stay out!" Malachi yelled, his voice vibrating in the very floorboards. He turned back to Zaliyah, his face hardening with primal fury. "You will attend the banquet. And you better not do anything stupid."
Zaliyah stood his ground, folding his arms across his chest. " I am unprepared. One week of 'royal courtesy' doesn't make me a consort."
In a flash, Malachi's hand was around Zaliyah's throat.
The transition was sickening. The man who had been teasing Zaliyah just minutes ago vanished, replaced by the Ruthless King of the Underworld. He lifted Zaliyah off his feet, pinning him against the bookshelf.
"Unprepared, you said?" Malachi hissed, his grip tightening until Zaliyah's vision began to blur. "You had a week to learn. Instead, you spent your time fleeing with a lover. You must think me a fool!. because I didn't punish your treachery the first time, I have no teeth?"
Zaliyah's hands clawed at Malachi's wrist, his face turning a terrifying shade of blue. Just as the world began to go black, Malachi released him.
Zaliyah crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, his chest heaving as he coughed violently. He looked up, his eyes burning with a scornful, hateful light.
Malachi didn't look back. He turned on his heel, heading for the door. Just as his hand touched the silver handle, he paused.
"Every breath you take," Malachi said, his voice now terrifyingly calm, "is mercy from me. Remember that when you're choosing your jewelry for the banquet."
He slammed the door with such violence that several first-edition books tumbled from the shelves, hitting the floor with heavy thuds.
As soon as he stepped into the hallway, he smoothed his hair, a charming smile returning to his face as he scooped up a sobbing Nyxian.
"It's alright, little Xian, if you cry this much your royal sigil would get wash away" he cooed to his sister, carrying her away as if he hadn't just nearly killed the man he had just married.
Karas pushed through the swinging, rusted doors of a roadside tavern. The smell inside was even worse than the sulfur outside-a mix of fermented bile, old smoke, and something he could only describe as "burnt hair."
The room went silent.
The patrons here were high-class demons-at least, they looked human enough to be called such. They had horns, perhaps, or elongated ears, but their forms were stable and sharp. Karas, covered in gray-black mud and smelling like a swamp, stood out like a sore thumb.
He broke into a cold sweat. This is it, he thought. They know. They're going to eat me.
Instead, a ripple of laughter broke the silence.
"By the Void, brother," a woman at the bar called out, fanning her nose with a silk handkerchief. "Why are you so... crusty?"
A few men at a corner table guffawed. "Did you lose a fight with a Mud Freak, or did you just decide to bathe in the sewage for fun?"
Karas felt a wave of hot embarrassment wash over him. "I... I fell," he muttered.
The woman at the bar softened, her expression turning from disgust to pity. "Oh, you poor thing. You look like you've walked from the Northwest then to the east during a landslide. My apologies for the laugh. Let me buy you a beer for the rudeness."
She pushed a tankard toward him. Karas looked down at it. The liquid was a glowing, neon purple with something small and multi-legged swimming at the bottom.
"I... I'll pass," Karas said politely, his stomach doing a somersault. "Thank you"
"Suit yourself," she shrugged, taking a long swig of the glowing bile.
"Did you hear?" a man at the next table whispered to his companion, though in the quiet bar, it carried easily. "The Royal Decree came through this morning."
"The banquet? Finally," the companion replied. "I don't know why the king took so long to announce it. Usually, he's faster to show off his kills."
Karas's ears perked up. He moved closer to the bar, pretending to inspect a stained map on the wall.
"I'm more excited than you," the lady at the bar giggled, her eyes sparkling. "I don't care if it took three days to organize. I want to see what 'flower' the King has plucked from the garden of the living."
"Don't get your hopes up, sister," the man scoffed. "It's a man."
The lady's smile only grew wider. "Even better! How beautiful must he be that even the King, ruler of all the realms-actually fell? I heard he's kept him locked in the dungeons like a forbidden treasure."
Karas cleared his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Umm... is everyone allowed to attend? At the palace?"
The lady looked at him, her gaze trailing over his muddy clothes. "Yes, everyone of status. Everyone but the Mud Freaks, obviously."
"Mud Freaks?" Karas asked, genuinely confused.
The man at the table sighed loudly. "This brother is truly weird. She means the lowly beasts, you dimwit. The mindless ones."
"Oh," Karas sighed, a small bit of tension leaving his shoulders. Compared to the things he'd seen in the wasteland, he understood the nickname.
"Are you new in town?" the lady asked, leaning in close. The scent of her perfume-something like lilies and iron-hit him hard.
Karas didn't answer. He knew if he spoke too much, the "human" in his voice would betray him.
"He's probably homeless," the man laughed, gesturing to Karas's filthy state. "Or a refugee from the border wars."
The lady looked Karas up and down. Despite the mud, his chiseled frame and the intensity in his eyes were hard to hide. "Well, if you're homeless, you can crash at my place tonight. I live alone with my cat, Onyx, and I desperately need a date for the banquet. All the good ones are taken or too boring."
The man at the table sputtered. "Sister! You didn't tell me you needed a date I'm right here"
The lady didn't even look at him. "No. You're fat and you smell like shit."
Karas felt a ghost of a smile pull at his lips. The bluntness reminded him so much of Riru that it made his heart ache for home.
But then, reality set in. Following a demon woman home was suicide.
But staying out there? Sleeping on the muddy rocks of the wasteland? Being hunted by the "Mud Freaks" while his body was still recovering from the ritual?
He looked at the lady, then at the dark, terrifying world outside the pub doors.
"I'd be honored," Karas said, bowing his head.
He had three days. Three days to clean up, blend in, and find a way into that banquet. Zaliyah was waiting, and Karas wasn't going to let anything stand in his way .