In negotiations, you only lose if you forget the power of walking away—and the impact of a well-timed threat.
We all woke early that morning. Breakfast passed in a tense, wordless silence. When the meal was done, we exchanged glances, our eyes reflecting the same determination.
"Alex," I began, without breaking eye contact with Rolo.
"Yes?" Alex responded, his voice steady.
"Stay here in case Livius comes looking for us or has news," I instructed. From the corner of my eye, I saw him nod in agreement.
He understood—this was our fight.
"Shall we?" I asked, directing the question at Rolo.
"Yes," he replied, and we both stood, ready to face what lay ahead.
Two cats waited for us at the gate, opening the car door as we approached. We slid inside. The windows were tinted so dark that nothing outside was visible. The back seats were separated from the drivers, obscuring our destination.
I should have mentioned it to Rolo then, but the words stayed lodged in my throat. The ride passed in a heavy silence.
Abruptly, the car stopped. We had arrived. As we stepped out, I inhaled deeply, but the air held no familiar scent. Opposite us stood an old villa, imposing and silent.
The two cats flanked us, their eyes tracking our every move. The double doors of the villa opened soundlessly, revealing a grand hall. Stairs spiraled up on either side, but we were guided towards an elevator instead. The cramped space enclosed us, and one of the cats pressed a button. The elevator shot upwards at a dizzying speed. When it halted, I glanced at the display: the forty-first floor.
Now, I knew exactly where we were, though I'd only heard about it from others. The Shifters' Legislative, Judicial, and Executive Office.
"Forty-first floor," a disinterested female voice announced. "Conference rooms."
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a corridor lined with imposing double doors. We stopped at the fourth door, which opened automatically. The two cats stationed on either side gestured for us to enter.
I glanced at Rolo. His body was rigid with nerves—he had pieced it together. I stepped closer and stretched my presence to envelop him too. The tension in his frame eased, his shoulders relaxing. He raised his eyes to meet mine. He was clearly shocked that someone could do such a thing with their presence—I didn't know until lately, I had only realized it during my encounters with Aleshio.
He gave a slow nod, his nerves steadied. Together, we stepped through the door, ready to face whatever awaited us.
The room was divided into three distinct sections. On a raised platform with a balcony, three imposing figures stood, their faces obscured by veils, each crowned with elaborate, unique headgear.
I knew Leo was the one in the middle; his scent was unmistakable. These were the paramount leaders among the cats: the Chief Magistrate, the Chief Judge, and the Leader—who commanded both law and governance with an iron will.
In the center, an open semicircular space held two solitary chairs, stark and exposed. Opposite us, the judges loomed on tiered platforms, their identities hidden behind veils. A mere dozen, yet their collective presence was palpable.
We were escorted to the chairs and seated. I noticed the faint tremor in Rolo's hand, though he masked it well. As we sat, he glanced at me, his eyes silently questioning:
'How do you stand under such pressure?'
I met his gaze with unwavering calm. Training with Aleshio had fortified my mind's defenses. Every shred of tension, worry, and doubt was locked behind unbreakable walls, leaving nothing but an exterior of serenity. The judges' stares felt like embers, their whispers a rising tide of disdain. Yet I remained unfazed, my demeanor unshaken.
I cast a subtle, encouraging glance at Rolo, a silent promise that he would not face this alone.
"Roland Hollósi has applied for an early coming-of-age ritual," announced the figure to Leo's right, who I deduced was the Chief of Justice.
A murmur rippled through the judges, but the Chief of Justice waited with unhurried patience, letting the noise subside on its own.
"However, we must first address the indictment against Roland Hollósi," he continued.
"Indictment?" Rolo echoed, his voice edged with incredulity.
The full weight of the situation bore down on him now.
"With all due respect, Your Honour," I interjected smoothly, my voice calm yet firm, "as Roland's representative, I must request clarification on the charges before us."
The phrase 'with all due respect' was always a useful veneer. How much respect was actually due? Often, none.
Rolo's eyes immediately flashed at me, understanding gleaming in his eyes.
"Of course, Mr…?" the Chief of Justice prompted, his tone guarded.
"Shaytan," I responded, a faint smile playing at my lips. "My name is Shaytan. A pleasure."
An oppressive silence gripped the room, every eye fixated on me. The tension was palpable, as if the air itself had thickened. Then, chaos erupted among the judges. Leo raised a hand, and with that simple gesture, the tumult ceased.
"Honourable Mr. Shaytan," the Chief Magistrate addressed me, his voice devoid of emotion, "the charges are clear: forty-eight counts of theft and seven counts of burglary. Most grievously, his actions led to a war. Roland is a menace to our community."
"Would you care to elaborate?" I asked, my voice smooth, devoid of any apparent concern.
"Roland robbed the Fifth King for his own gain. His actions provoked a vampire assault, resulting in the deaths of dozens of our kin," he replied coldly.
Rolo's eyes widened, shock and guilt washing over him as he comprehended the full extent of the consequences. He hadn't known. Now, the weight of those lives crushed him.
"Roland Hollósi," the Chief of Justice's voice cut through the silence, "do you admit to committing the theft?"
"Yes," Rolo croaked, the word barely audible.
"Were you fully aware of the potential consequences of your actions?" the Chief pressed further.
Rolo hesitated, torn between the truth and what he should say. But he was no fool—he had known the risks.
"Yes," he finally admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.
"The verdict is clear," the Chief of Justice declared, his tone final.
"Your Honour," I intervened, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade, "there are mitigating circumstances that must be considered."
Rolo stared down, his spirit visibly crushed. The weight of their gazes was a heavier sentence than any spoken words.
"What mitigating circumstances?" the Chief Magistrate questioned, his skepticism evident.
"Roland played a pivotal role in the battle against the Fifth King—a battle I led," I declared, my gaze unwavering.
The room erupted once more, whispers cascading in a wave of disbelief.
"Honourable Mr. Shaytan," the Chief Magistrate spoke, struggling to maintain his composure, "while your words are noted, they are insufficient to alter the verdict…"
"I am aware," I said, my voice calm yet unyielding.
"Are there any other mitigating circumstances?" the Chief of Justice pressed, the weight of the room focusing on me.
I produced a folded document from my coat, extending it toward the nearest cat with an imperious nod.
"This is the result of my investigation into the deaths of the shapeshifters," I explained, my voice steady. "The official reports clearly indicate these deaths were driven by survival instincts, not a search for Roland. The speed of death, the blood loss—these were acts of sustenance, not interrogation."
"This evidence is not exculpatory," the Chief of Justice retorted sharply.
"Is it not?" I replied, my tone laced with quiet authority.
The Chief Magistrate leaned forward, eyes narrowing behind the veil. "Mr. Shaytan, are you implying that this court's judgment is incorrect?"
A hush fell over the chamber. The weight of his question hung in the air, palpable and charged. Every eye was fixed on me, the tension coiled tight, ready to snap.
I leaned back slightly, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "I'm not implying," I said, my voice soft, yet it echoed with unshakable certainty. "I'm stating it outright. But your opinions… mean nothing to me."
The room erupted into a cacophony of outrage. Judges and onlookers alike burst into furious murmurs, their protests growing louder by the second. The three figures on the balcony exchanged glances, their veils fluttering slightly with the force of their restrained agitation.
Leo raised a hand again, attempting to restore order, but this time, the tumult did not immediately cease. The gathered crowd was too inflamed, their pride stung by my audacious declaration.
I exhaled slowly, letting the breath carry away the last vestiges of restraint. The monster within stirred and I allowed it to rise to the surface.
My hair, once dark, shimmered as it turned silvery, catching the light like a halo of molten moonlight. My eyes shifted, the whites fading into an abyssal black, leaving only the gleaming blue irises, luminous and predatory.
The shift in the atmosphere was immediate and profound. The temperature seemed to plummet, the air thickening as if saturated with an otherworldly force. The whispers and shouts faltered, then ceased entirely. One by one, figures began to tremble, their defiance crumbling under the weight of my unveiled presence.
Several judges fell from their chairs, unable to withstand the pressure. Their breaths came in short, panicked gasps as they averted their gazes, refusing to meet the inhuman gaze that now bore down on them. The few who managed to remain standing did so with visible difficulty, their legs shaking beneath them.
Even Leo, standing firm on the balcony, gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white. He leaned forward slightly, his composure faltering for the first time. His eyes met mine across the distance, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the flicker of recognition.
The monster within me was awake, and it was hungry.
"Your verdicts, your judgments, are meaningless," I said cooly. "I am here because I choose to be, not because I am bound by your laws."
I let my gaze sweep over the gathered figures, a slow, calculated look that settled on each of them, daring them to meet my eyes. Then I smiled—a calm, almost serene smile that contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in the air.
"Touch a single hair on my friend's head," I said, my voice soft but carrying with the weight of a promise, "and I will devour you."