Freya awoke to an unsettling realization: she was no longer in the familiar room where she had fallen asleep, but rather in a place that seemed woven from the threads of dreams, or perhaps nightmares.
The dimly lit corridor she found herself in felt surreal, the cold marble beneath her feet echoing each step with an eerie sound that heightened her senses.
As she ventured confidently down the hall, the scenery abruptly shifted. She was suddenly standing before an imposing wooden door which creaked open on its own accord, beckoning her inside. She crossed the threshold and noticed that her attire had transformed into a flowing red gown, its fabric whispering behind her with each movement.
The room she entered was somber yet strangely captivating. A large bed with a dark canopy dominated the space, while a fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The air was thick with the scent of something dark—cedarwood, leather, and something more elusive, like the echo of danger.
As she looked around, she noticed a man standing with his back to her, facing one of the tall windows. His silhouette was striking, framed by the dim light. His robe, as black and smooth as the midnight sky, trailed behind him, and his long, dark hair cascaded down his back like ink.
The moment he turned, their eyes locked, and Freya's breath hitched. His eyes, deep red, surrounded by long black lashes, bore into her, sending a jolt of fear through her chest. They were unsettling, almost predatory, and Freya felt her heart race in response.
But his face had the opposite affect, strikingly beautiful, sharp and chiseled, almost unnervingly perfect. It made it difficult for her to look away, even as fear prickled at the back of her neck. She would have screamed but something in his flawless features held her captive.
Panic surged through her at the realization that this man was a demon, and she was trapped in a dream of his making. Her mind whirled with the stories she had heard. Demons were known to be the most cunning creatures, masters of manipulation and deception. They played with their prey's minds, twisting reality to suit their desires. But most dangerous of all was their infamous skill at seduction. They could entrance, beguile, and lure even the strongest of wills. She was supposed to prepare herself extra for this encounter and not find herself here so suddenly.
"Ah, you are a sight," he complimented smoothly, his gaze sweeping over her. "I knew you would look exquisite in red."
His skin was as pale as alabaster, his face sharply chiseled, epitomizing the dangerous allure often attributed to demons. His beauty was unsettling, crafted perfectly to ensnare anyone with decent sight.
"You are...?" Freya ventured, her voice steady despite the swirling mix of fear and fascination. She was almost certain he was the demon ascendant, but a confirmation would be good.
"Kaeldrath. You may call me Kael," he said, crossing the distance between them with unnerving ease. His eyes never left her, and the way he looked at her, leering, predatory, as if he were sizing her up like a meal made her uncomfortable.
Freya had heard many rumors about demons. Some claimed they consumed souls, others said flesh or blood, but she prayed none of it was true. More likely, she thought, they fed on the minds of the innocent, twisting them to their will.
"And you are Freya, the healer," Kael said, now standing mere inches away. Up close, his beauty was even more unsettling—striking in a way that made her heart race, though not much with desire, but with a creeping sense of danger.
"Indeed," she replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. "You must be the demon ascendant. You shouldn't have interrupted my sleep. I would have come to see you in time." She forced herself to speak with confidence, hiding the nerves twisting inside her.
His lips curled into a smirk. "I know. But I tend to be impatient. The moment I heard of you, I was intrigued. And I have the luxury of meeting you whenever I please." His voice was smooth, but the arrogance that laced his words made her want to recoil.
Well, great! She thought bitterly.
Kael's eyes sparkled with amusement as he regarded her, his gaze roving over her again. "I didn't realize healers could be so... beautiful," he said, his voice low and teasing. "Had I known, I would have come sooner—and perhaps dressed you in something a bit more revealing for this occasion."
Freya couldn't help but chuckle, though it was more out of nervousness than humor. "Perhaps you should learn patience, and be more strategic," she suggested.
"Oh." His eyes gleamed with interest. "Already giving me advice. I like it."
Before she could respond, Kael extended his hand to her. "Since you're already dressed so exquisitely, care for a dance?"
Freya blinked, confused. A dance? They were in a chamber, and there was no music. She hesitated, glancing around the room.
"I'll arrange the music," he said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts.
Her stomach dropped. Wait! Could he read her mind?
"Of course I can," he replied with a wicked smile. "One of the many advantages I possess."
Freya's heart sank. He wasn't supposed to have that kind of power. If he could read her thoughts, how could she ever hope to protect herself from his manipulations?
Kael chuckled softly, the sound as rich and dark as the room itself. "That is why I am a demon, darling," he said, his tone dripping with amusement.
"That's unfair," she whispered, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over her. The desire to flee was overwhelming. She suddenly felt exposed in a way she hadn't anticipated.
He tilted his head, smirking. "Well, my dear, nothing is fair in this game of thrones."
Before she could respond, he took her hand and spun her around without warning. The chamber around them blurred and shifted, and when they came to a stop, they were no longer in the room. Instead, they found themselves in a grand ballroom, its vast space illuminated by flickering candlelight. In a dimly lit corner, a group of musicians stood poised, ready to play.
Freya glanced back at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Aren't you a bit too eager to have me close?" she asked, her tone laced with a hint of challenge.
Kael chuckled softly, his sharp white teeth gleaming as he smiled. "I am," he admitted with amusement, his gaze never wavering from hers. "But I'm eager for more than just closeness."
What did he mean by that? She was growing tired of his constant insinuations.
"Do you wish for me to be more forward then?" he asked, his voice laced with playful menace.
"No!" she blurted out quickly, the words escaping before she could think. She was exhausted by that too. What kind of world had she stumbled into?
Kael chuckled again, clearly enjoying her discomfort. He pulled her closer, his hand slipping to the small of her back, guiding her into his hold. Instinctively, she placed her hand on his shoulder, feeling the lean, toned muscle beneath his robe. He was tall, like the others she had encountered in this strange realm, though not as bulky. His frame was more refined, sleek and powerful without brute strength.
"You seem to have had a few rough days already," he remarked as he began to sway them gently to the music that had started to play. His voice was soft, almost teasing. "This world is quite different from your own."
"Indeed," Freya replied dryly. "And since you seem to know, I hope you'll be gentle."
"Of course," he murmured. "I don't intend for this to be a nightmare for you, Freya. I want it to be a sweet dream."
Yet despite his words, up close, Kael was even more intimidating. His striking features held a sinister allure, his eyes gleaming with dark intent. The closer she was to him, the more her senses were overwhelmed. His scent was intoxicating—heady and alluring. It swirled around her, making her head swim.
Was he doing this on purpose? She needed to learn more about demons and quickly, if only to protect herself from his subtle manipulations.
Kael's lips curved slightly. "You have a difficult task ahead of you," he said, hearing her internal struggle.
"Not so difficult," Freya replied, determined to maintain some semblance of control.
"Is that a challenge? I don't do well with challenges," he said smoothly. "I can't ignore them, you see."
Freya huffed in frustration. "Good Lord! Does every male in this world take denial as a challenge?"
Kael's laughted, genuine this time. Freya seized the moment, eager to shift the conversation away from his teasing. "Let's talk about the rite," she suggested, her tone firm. "Since I'm already here. Before I fell asleep, I read about Ilzeer, the demon king. His reign was one of the most brutal in this realm's history, and because of that, people have been extremely reluctant to accept another demon as their king. That means you are at a significant disadvantage."
Kael nodded, "I'm well aware," he said looking unbothered.
"How do you plan to overcome that?" she asked.
His smirk returned, though this time there was something more calculating in his gaze. "That," he said smoothly, "is what I was hoping you could tell me."