*Morpheus pov*
I drifted through the dark corridors of Xilveth's mind, the walls around me pulsing with an eerie, faint light. Memories slithered by like shadows, some slipping away before I could grasp them, others lingering just long enough to pull me in. I wasn't in control here—I was a mere observer, sifting through the fragments of his past, piecing together the story of his life well at least what I can gleam. Anything hidden behind his deep mental barriers would be too difficult to breach.
The barren land unfolded before me once again, but this time, it was through Xilveth's eyes. The landscape, though familiar, seemed even more bleak than before. The realm was decaying rather fast. He stood at the edge of the city, looking out over the grey expanse, and I could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. There was no hope here, no future—only the endless stretch of nothingness that had become the demonic realm's existence.
You could almost taste the death.
As I moved deeper into his memory, I found myself standing in the very heart of the city. The buildings loomed over me, their once proud facades now crumbling and decayed. The demon civilians shuffled past, their eyes empty, their bodies weak and frail. I could feel Xilveth's disdain for them, a cold, calculating contempt that ran through him like a poisoned river. They were nothing to him—mere pawns in a game he had long since given up on.
The memory shifted, and I was inside the castle, walking the familiar halls with Xilveth's cold confidence. The grand hall was just as I had seen it before he was not the first Kor I have encountered, but now I could feel the weight of his presence here. At the head of the table, his eyes flicking briefly to the much larger demon beside him.
In this moment, I could feel his unease, though he masked it well. The larger demon was a force of nature, a being of such immense power that even Xilveth, in all his arrogance, could not ignore the threat he posed. Xilveth's mind raced, calculating, assessing the situation with the same cold logic that had served him so well in the past. But beneath it all, there was a flicker of something else—fear, perhaps, or the unsettling realization that he was not the strongest but instead the weakest of his family.
I lingered in this memory, watching as Xilveth's thoughts twisted and turned, searching for an advantage. He was playing a dangerous game, one where the stakes were higher than ever before. And yet, despite the looming threat, he remained calm, his mind a fortress of ice-cold determination.
He didn't want to fail his father.
The memory began to fade, slipping through my grasp like sand through my fingers. But before it disappeared completely, I caught one last glimpse of Xilveth's thoughts—a single, burning desire that had driven him for so long. Power. Absolute, unquestionable power. It was the one thing that had always eluded him, the one thing he would stop at nothing to obtain.
And with that, the memory was gone, leaving me standing once more in the darkness of Xilveth's mind. Bracing myself I reached forward and grabbed at the empty expanse in front of me, instantly I felt a weight bear down on my body the pressure of forcefully pulling memories to the surface was draining.
Sighing I pulled my arms back and a light began to form in the distance, it inched closer and closer to me. The light turned to colors, and the darkness around me to walls.
"Father I do not understand," Xilveth said calmy I could feel his frustration through the memory
The larger demon from before, his father smirked, "What is not to understand boy, you will be leaving for the human realm,"
"But wouldn't Franz be better?" Xilveth asked, "He is older and stronger than me,"
A scoff echoed around the room, "Do not be a fool boy, you will accept this mission and carry it out, or else," the threat hung in the air dauntingly
Xilveth felt many emotions in this instant, excitement to venture into the human realm and show his worth, fear for the possibility of failing and having to face his father, and most of all bitterness because he knew why he was being sent.
If he failed Xilveth the third son, the weakest son, not much of a loss to his father.
"And what if I encounter 'him'?" Xilveth asked
Xilveth's father grunted in displeasure, "I doubt you will he is apparently in what they call Britain. Far away from where you will be. But, if you do encounter that man make yourself useful and kill him,"
Sighing I changed the memory again and again each time finding small pieces of information but nothing overly useful. It seems like Xilveth only focused on a couple of things, training, women, and how to make himself seem better than his brothers.
I withdrew from his mind, the echoes of his memories still ringing in my ears. The image of the larger demon his father lingered, a reminder of the danger that lay ahead. I haven't seen a demon like that in a long time.
Looking at his prone form I took out one of my daggers, this one specifically used for harvesting. A lot of material was present and I wasn't about to let it go to waste.
*Narrator pov*
While Morpheus was destroying the demon compound and slaying demonic nobility Britain was facing great peril. The attack on Diagon Alley flipped a switch throughout the society of magical England, attacks were now more frequent and openly targeting everything half-blood and new blood.
"RUN!" a man's voice screamed in anguish as his family home was besieged, the walls trembling under the force of dark magic. The sky outside was a violent swirl of storm clouds, lit by flashes of green and red as spells collided in mid-air. The attack had been swift, a shadow descending upon the house with terrifying precision.
"The Floos aren't working!" a woman's voice cried out, her tone frantic, edged with desperation. She clutched her children close, their eyes wide with fear as the reality of their situation sank in. The fireplaces, their usual escape route, remained cold and unresponsive. They had been cut off, isolated from the rest of the world.
"Take them and go!" the man yelled, his wand flashing as he deflected a curse that shattered a nearby window. Glass rained down around them, and the roar of the storm outside grew louder, more ominous. Through the broken window, the dark shapes of the Death Eaters could be seen, their cloaks billowing like shadows given form, their masks reflecting the chaos of the battle.
"There's nowhere to go!" the woman shouted back, her voice cracking under the weight of the impossible choice before them. They were trapped, surrounded on all sides, and the full realization of it struck her like a physical blow. The children whimpered, burying their faces in her robes, as if hoping that by hiding they could make the terror go away.
The man's heart pounded in his chest as he searched for a solution, any solution, to save his family. His wand hand was steady, but his mind was racing. He had to think, had to find a way out. The Death Eaters were closing in, their laughter echoing through the night, a cruel, mocking sound that sent chills down his spine.
"Take them to the cellar!" he ordered, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "I'll hold them off!"
The woman hesitated, her eyes locking onto his. There was so much she wanted to say, so much that needed to be said, but there was no time. All she could do was nod, tears brimming in her eyes as she turned and ushered the children toward the cellar door. It was a flimsy plan, and they both knew it, but it was all they had.
As they disappeared down the stairs, the man turned back to face the shattered window, his grip tightening on his wand. The Death Eaters were close now, their dark forms slipping through the shadows like predators stalking their prey. He could feel their malevolence, a cold, suffocating presence that filled the air around him.
"Come and get me!" he roared, his voice filled with defiance, with a desperation born of love and fear. He would fight for his family, fight until his last breath. The first Death Eater stepped into view, wand raised, and the man didn't hesitate. He sent a barrage of spells towards the intruder, the light from his wand cutting through the darkness.
But he knew it was only a matter of time. The Death Eaters were relentless, their power overwhelming. As they began to surround him, he cast one last glance toward the cellar door, praying that somehow, against all odds, his family would survive this night.
And then, with a final, desperate cry, he threw himself into the battle, determined to protect those he loved with everything he had, even if it meant sacrificing himself in the process.