The Damned Demon

In the darkly lit confines of an old cellar, Lysandra stood cloaked in shadows, her figure draped in a dark brown cloak as if she couldn’t come here without concealing her identity.

Her fingers gently caressed a spear hanging off the wall, her eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and sadness she always had to suppress within her. 

*Creak*

The creak of the door broke the silence. Lysandra turned slowly to see an elderly man entering the room. 

His eyes were cloudy, as if they were blind to the world around him, and he was dressed in a shabby, plain, dark grey robe. His face was wrinkled and plain, just like his clothes.

His long white beard and mustache, along with his hair tied back into a ponytail, gave him a venerable yet ordinary appearance.

“Did he receive the message?” Lysandra asked, her voice carrying a tone of expectancy. 

Despite the man’s common appearance, her demeanor was respectful, even deferential. 

To her, this man was far from a mere commoner; he was Droco, a figure of importance in her life.

“Yes, dear,” Droco replied as he stepped further into the cellar, his voice gentle yet seasoned with wisdom. 

He then posed a question, laced with concern, “But are you sure about what you are doing? Every time you seek my help, you want me to do something that could put your life at risk. And every time, it has been for your son, Agonon. But this time, why?” His eyes became steely and his tone colder as he continued, “Why are you getting involved with someone who killed our Agonon. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Lysandra’s eyes softened, a hint of gratitude in her gaze, “I have no reason to hide anything from you, father-in-law. Other than my son, you are the only one I could trust and depend on all these years,” she confessed, her voice imbued with a rare vulnerability, “It’s just that, the Bloodburn King…that young alien is not the man we expected him to be. He knows where my son is and how to bring him back. That’s why I need him alive. I can’t let Drakar do anything to him.”

Droco’s expression shifted to one of skepticism and concern as he processed Lysandra’s words, “I don’t understand what you are saying. How could that be possible? I know you are still grieving, dear, and so am I at the loss of my grandson. But this…” His voice trailed off, marked by a mix of disbelief and sorrow.

Lysandra, her demeanor resolute yet touched by sadness, nodded gently, “I know it seems hard to believe. But I have seen him, father-in-law. I have seen my son…trapped in another hellish dimension where I can’t reach him. Only Asher can. At least he has proved he can communicate with Agonon, and he knows things only Agonon would know,” she explained, detailing the account she received from Asher about Agonon being trapped in a dangerous dimension, including how it all happened.

Droco’s cloudy eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope, albeit tinged with uncertainty, “So my grandson is still alive?” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, “I want to believe it, and I want to believe that Asher is not lying to you. He is still our enemy, and he wouldn’t be doing this unless he wanted something that would benefit him. But I will let you be the judge of it and do what you have asked me to do. Just… if Agonon really comes back to us, I want to at least see him once and tell him things I couldn’t. I want to tell him how proud his father would be.”

Lysandra’s eyes briefly trembled with emotion, “You will,” she affirmed with a firm nod, “But I won’t stop at that… not after everything we have suffered.”

Droco, perplexed by her words, inquired, “What are you talking about, dear?”

lightsΝοvεl ƈοm A cold, determined light glinted in Lysandra’s eyes as she revealed, “I plan to use Asher to help me rebuild this kingdom from the ground up and get rid of every vermin, including the one sitting on the throne right now. That is what he would have wanted as well…It was his dream too…to make our kingdom better.”

Droco’s reaction to Lysandra’s declaration was immediate and profound. His eyes widened, and he raised a hand in a cautionary gesture, “Don’t do it, Lysandra,” he implored with an urgency that resonated in the dimly lit space, “Drakar is not a man you should mess with; at least you shouldn’t take the risk yourself. I will do it or at least die trying when the right time comes.”

Lysandra’s fists clenched tightly, her expression hardening with resolve and pain, “Why should you have to die trying to kill that scum? Haven’t we lost enough at his hands? You are the only family I have left other than Agonon. I can’t lose you too. You have been a father to me, more than my own father ever could, who happily sold me to Drakar,” she said, her voice laced with a mix of cold anger and sorrow.

Droco’s expression softened, “I understand what you are feeling. But you know what happened to my bloodline, right? I don’t want the same to happen to you. Everyone considered me a powerful duke. But when the time came and Drakar saw my family as a threat, even after killing my son, he easily labeled me and them as traitors and had them killed. I lost my eyes and had to change my face to protect you. You also suffered a lot, and more, to give birth to Agonon. You shouldn’t let the efforts we painstakingly took to survive go to waste. We should never depend on an outsider, let alone the king of our enemies.”

Lysandra closed her eyes slowly, her eyelids trembling as she absorbed his words. 

After a moment, she gently nodded, her resolve evident as she reopened her eyes, “Okay… I will listen to you, father-in-law. For now, I will just focus on getting Agonon back. Then the three of us can work together to make him pay.”

Droco nodded, his look softening yet remaining determined, “We will do it. I swear on the soul of my son,” he said, his tone turning cold with resolve, “I have held on for so long not only to protect you but also to make him suffer together. The last thing he deserves is an easy death.”

Lysandra’s lips pressed together firmly in agreement, her resolve mirrored in her stance.

“I will leave now and get ready to bring them outside,” Droco announced, turning towards the door.

“Please be careful, father-in-law,” Lysandra said, her tone laced with concern.

Droco offered a brief, warm look in response before exiting the cellar. 

The door closed behind him, leaving Lysandra alone with her thoughts and a growing tension.

—

The night had descended over the Dracan Palace, the blood moon casting its light over it and giving it a grand yet ominous presence.

Asher, Naida, Leonidas, Caelum, Silvan, Oberon, and Eradicator stood at the front, awaiting the arrival of the carriage while draconian guards were still surrounding them in every direction.

Naida’s appearance was particularly striking. She was draped in a stunning off-shoulder red gown that cascaded down her form, highlighting her graceful silhouette. 

The gown’s design artfully accentuated her smooth back, the fabric dipping just low enough to reveal the gentle curve of her spine. 

Her shoulders, bare and exquisitely sculpted, drew the eye, leading to the delicate lines of her collarbones.

The neckline of the gown was masterfully crafted, offering a subtle yet captivating glimpse of her cleavage, a tasteful display of allure that was both enchanting and dignified. The color of the gown, a deep, rich red, complemented her complexion, making her skin glow with an almost ethereal radiance.

Her stunning appearance drew admiring glances from even the draconians around, who struggled to avert their eyes discreetly.

Asher, observing the attention Naida was attracting, chuckled lightly, “You’re going to make a lot of draconian women curse after seeing their men gawking at you,” he commented, amusement evident in his voice, though he also couldn’t deny that there was an undeniable magnetism about her, even more in this dress.

Naida glanced at Asher, who was clad in royal and exquisite black robes. With a smooth arch of her rosy lips, she replied, “My king, you should be the one to look out for these men since you’re going to steal the hearts of their women if they see you. But let’s blame the royal dresser who picked these clothes for us.”

Leonidas, standing a certain distance away, whispered to Caelum, “Do the two seem closer ever since they returned, or am I just overthinking it?”

Caelum sighed, his eyes closing, “Sometimes… it’s better to pretend to be blind,” he murmured, making Leonidas wince as he decided to not ask any more questions on the topic…ever.

Naida leaned towards Asher, her voice low as she briefly glanced behind them, “So we aren’t going to tell them until we get out?” she asked discreetly.

Asher gave a brief nod, his expression serious, “It’s better to keep it to ourselves. If they become unconsciously wary or look suspicious, things could get bad. These draconians are watching our every move like hawks,” he said, maintaining a facade of casualness as he glanced at the draconian guards who quickly averted their gaze.

Naida mirrored his feigned smile, “I would have advised the same thing anyway. The less people know, the better,” she concurred.

Leonidas, his arms crossed, voiced his concerns in a low tone, “Hey, what if they poison our food or something? I don’t feel like eating what our enemies cooked. I don’t even understand how they are shameless enough to hold a celebration. Do they have no face to lose?”

Caelum, his gaze sharp, responded, “The draconians poisoning us? They are too proud to do that. We would already be dead if they wanted us to be. Or… they could always take out their weapons and attack us anytime. His Majesty did tell us to always be on guard.”

Leonidas let out a subtle scoff, “That’s why I always carry around my trusty weapon, even though I would hate to damage it,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of defiance mixed with uneasiness.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves and wheels echoed, making them all shift their gazes.

A large, imposing black carriage, drawn by a team of powerful horses, rolled towards them. 

Its presence was both grand and impressive, shrouded in the night’s embrace.

Asher’s attention was immediately drawn to the driver’s cabin. Seated within was an old man, his figure obscured by the dim light.

Narrowing his eyes, Asher turned to his companions. “It’s time. Let’s get in,” he announced, his voice low but firm.