I trust you.
The words left him, and he felt himself scattering, the dream fading away. But the figure’s hand was still on his face, and Aric clung to that touch, the heat of it searing his skin.
“Trust in me,” the figure echoed, his voice still that urgent rumble. And then the dream shattered, and Aric was alone in the darkness.
Rough hands yanked Aric from the darkness, shattering the lingering echoes of the dream. He gasped, his heart hammering in his chest as he was hauled to his feet. The world swam before his eyes, the cold stone of the cell floor giving way to the heat of the demon guards who towered over him.
“Stop, I beg you, please, you must listen—”
A roar filled his ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was his own voice, raw and desperate. His arms flailed as he tried to break free, but the guards’ grip was like iron. Cold voidfire wrapped around him, and he screamed as it ate into his skin, burned and twisted—
And then it was gone, a fleeting memory, leaving behind only the scent of charred flesh and the guards looking more than a little unsettled. But they didn’t release their hold on him, and for that, Aric was almost grateful.
The guards flanked him as they dragged him from the cells, the fortress looming around them. He tried to take in every detail, every twist and turn of the mazelike corridors, but he was disoriented, the world tilting and spinning.
“Where are you taking me?” he managed to croak.
No response.
The guards’ faces were masks, revealing nothing of their thoughts. Aric’s heart sank. Had his conversation with Sylthris been nothing but a cruel taunt, a game to break his spirit?
No. He couldn’t afford to give in to despair. He had to believe that there was a chance, however slim, that Sylthris was telling the truth, that there was a way out of this.
He squared his shoulders, and let the guards lead him through the darkness.
Eleven
The town center of Drindal was a dreadful sight to behold, even in the cool stillness of early morning. Smoke still curled from the wreckage of the recent siege, the acrid stench of it mingling with the earthy scent of fresh demon blood and the sharp, metallic tang of human. Chained human laborers and lesser demons toiled to clear the debris and tend to the wounded, while the twisted forms of the more heavily wounded humans and the remains of the town guard served as a warning to any who might dare to resist.
Aric’ tried to calm his racing heart as the demon guards hauled him up the grand staircase and through the towering doors of the town hall, the stench of smoke and blood thick in the air. The marble floors had been scrubbed clean, but the dark stains still lingered in the cracks and crevices, and the walls had been lined with chains and implements of torture. The air echoed with the sounds of screams and the crack of a whip, and the harsh grating of stone on stone as a demon hauled a heavy load from the wreckage.
No one paid them much heed as they approached the grand staircase that led up to the overlook, but the scent of fear hung heavy in the air. Even the demons showed little of the confidence they’d exhibited during the siege.
The guards yanked Aric forward, and he stumbled up the stairs, his hands bound behind his back. His skin was already slick with sweat, his pulse racing with a heady mix of fear and adrenaline. He scanned the overlook, searching for a way out, but it was hopeless. The guards flanking him were massive, their demon forms towering over him, and more were stationed at every exit, their eyes glinting with malice.
The crowd at the overlook fell silent as Aric was dragged through the throng, hundreds of pairs of eyes turning to watch his passage with expressions that ranged from morbid curiosity to open hatred. The demon lords lined the walls, their wings twitching with restless energy as they whispered to one another, and Aric caught snatches of his name amidst the hissing laughter.
At the far end of the overlook, seated on a grotesque throne cobbled together from blackened wood and bone, was Sovereign Zaxos. His obsidian skin seemed to absorb the light, and his eyes glowed with a fierce intensity as he stared at Aric. A cruel smile tugged at his black lips, and Aric shivered, the icy grip of his fear threatening to overwhelm him.
The guards forced Aric to his knees before the Onyx Throne, the stone cool and unyielding beneath his bare skin. Sovereign Zaxos said nothing as he regarded Aric, his expression a mask of pure malice. Aric held his head up, his gaze steady, but he could feel a cold sweat trickling down his back, and he knew his face must be drained of all color.
“Human,” Zaxos said at last, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the vast chamber. “I hope your time in the cells has offered you some reflection on your sins.”
The crowd chattered and hissed amongst themselves, and Aric fought to keep his chin high. “Your kind feasts on sin. Why should I feel remorse or guilt? Does that not defeat the point?”
“Do not get clever with me. What have you got to say for yourself, human?” Zaxos’s lips peeled back in a grotesque grin. “Do you beg for mercy? Plead your case, and perhaps I will deign to show you some small measure of clemency.”
Aric’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists behind his back. He’d sooner die than grovel at this monster’s feet. But before he could give voice to the fiery retort burning on his tongue, Malekith stepped forward.
His movements were fluid and graceful, and all eyes turned toward him, drawn by his otherworldly presence. In one hand, he held an ancient scroll, its parchment crackling as he unrolled it. A hush fell over the crowd as he began to speak, his voice carrying through the vast chamber.
“By the authority vested in me as the prince of House Ixion, I claim the right of the Accused to Trial by Fire,” Malekith intoned. “As is our ancient custom, the accused is permitted to undergo a series of trials to prove his worth and his loyalty to demonkind.”
Aric’s heart leaped in his chest. He’d never heard of any such law, but he wasn’t about to question Malekith, not when the demon prince was staking his own reputation on it. A silent message passed between them, a flicker of understanding, and Aric realized that he needed to play his part in this charade.
“I offer myself as champion for the human’s trials,” Malekith said, his voice never wavering. “And vouch for his loyalty to the demon realm.”
Zaxos’s eyes narrowed, and he sat back on his throne, considering Malekith’s words. The other demon lords exchanged uneasy glances, and Aric knew that he was far from the only one who sensed the trap closing around them.
“Convince us,” Zaxos said at last.
“Esteemed members of the war council,” Malekith said, his eyes scanning the assembled demon lords. “I bring before you a matter of great import. This human, Aric Solarian, is in possession of knowledge that could prove invaluable to our cause.”
A fresh wave of murmurs rippled through the chamber, this time tinged with disbelief. Aric met Malekith’s gaze, and the demon prince winked at him, a sly, secret reassurance. Aric’s heart swelled in his chest, a surge of hope coursing through his veins. Malekith was playing to the crowd, setting the stage for whatever trick he had up his sleeve.
“You know of what I speak, Sovereign,” Malekith said, turning back to Zaxos. “The schematics for a devastating human weapon, one that could shatter our forces with a single blow. We witnessed it for ourselves on the fields outside Brenville. We know it is a threat. We need him to dismantle it.”
Zaxos’s eyes blazed, and his claws dug into the arms of his throne. Aric had never seen the demon sovereign up close before, and the raw power that emanated from him was almost suffocating. But Malekith held his ground, his posture relaxed, his expression cool and composed.
“Imagine the devastation we could unleash with such a weapon in our arsenal. We could bring the human realm to its knees, forcing them to beg for mercy.”
Several of the demon lords were nodding, their eyes gleaming with avarice. But others scowled, clearly not swayed by Malekith’s words.
“Or we could use it as a bargaining chip, to force them to accept our terms,” Zaxos said.
“And what terms would those be, Sovereign?” Malekith asked. “The subjugation of our kind? A return to the shadows, while the humans bask in their false victory? I, for one, will not rest until demonkind is the true master of both realms. And with the human’s weapon in our grasp, that dream can become a reality.”
