"Who told you to rough him up like that?!"
One of her servants flinched, their head bowed low. "B-But Mistress Valeria! You told us to sneak up on him and give him a good blow to the head!"
"Not with a mace, you idiots!" Valeria's crimson eyes flared with irritation. "If we hadn't arrived at the palace sooner, he'd be dead by now! Do you understand the disaster that would've been?"
The servant shrank back. "W-We're sorry, Mistress! We didn't—"
"Enough!" Valeria snapped, cutting them off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He's supposed to be a gift for Laura. A breathing, conscious gift. A corpse is no fun to her!"
A tense silence fell over the room as Valeria exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose as if the incompetence around her was a physical weight.
"Just leave him in the cell next to the Dreamweaver," she said finally. "Chain them both to the wall. And don't give her enough slack to reach him. I don't want her to hurt him before Laura has her hands on him."
The servants exchanged uneasy glances before nodding hastily. "Y-Yes, Mistress Valeria!"
Without another word, they carried the unconscious human into the dark depths of the palace dungeon, his limp form draped over one of the servant's shoulders. The cell door groaned open.
The Dreamweaver was already inside, slumped against the cold stone wall. Her face was pale, a streak of dried blood trailing down from the gash on her cheek. She glared at the servants as they entered.
The human was dumped unceremoniously on the opposite side of the cell, his wrists shackled to the wall. The chains clinked loudly as they secured him in place, leaving just enough space to keep the two prisoners apart.
One of the servants turned to leave, but not before muttering under his breath, "I feel sad for this guy. I can't imagine what Laura is going to do to him."
"Shut up," a succubus shivered. "I don't want to be reminded of that time when I had to pick up her leftovers…"
With a heavy clang, the iron door slammed shut, plunging the cell into near-total darkness. The faint torchlight from the corridor outside flickered through the bars, giving enough light to see in front of her.
Her purple pupils shone brightly in the dark, like those of a cat in the shadows. With a sigh, she let her head rest against the wall. She turned her gaze to the unconscious human across from her with a frustrated frown on her face.
"See? That's what happens when a human comes here…" she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the distant dripping of water in the dungeon. "You're going to get yourself killed, and in the most horrible way possible."
The human stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips as his head lolled to the side. He wasn't fully awake yet, but it was clear the blow to his head had been severe.
From the corridor outside, the faint sound of heels clicking on stone approached. A shadow appeared just beyond the bars, and Valeria's voice echoed in the prison.
"Now, I suppose you're asking yourself why I brought you there," she said, her tone commanding.
The succubus didn't respond, her jaw tightening as she glared at Valeria through the bars.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. You should be thanking me. I'm going to give you as much material as needed to complete your little project. Although, it will be for me, not for that stupid queen."
"If you think she'll let you take it, you're delusional."
Valeria laughed, a soft, elegant sound that was both mocking and condescending. "Danthea?" she scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flourish. "She is clearly past her prime. And unlike her, I haven't grown soft and decadent."
She stepped closer to the bars, her sharp features gleaming with pride. "My servants are already retrieving everything from your pathetic little hideout. You'll work for me day and night until the spell is finished. No excuses, no delays. Do you understand?"
The succubus's jaw clenched as she bit back the retort that threatened to escape. She hated the thought of being Valeria's pawn, but she had no choice. Not here. Not now. With a reluctant nod, she acquiesced, the movement small but sufficient to satisfy the Nightlord.
"Good," Valeria purred, her smile widening with satisfaction. She turned on her heel, her cape flowing behind her as she prepared to leave.
"On one condition," the succubus spoke suddenly.
Valeria stopped mid-step, glancing over her shoulder with a raised brow. "Oh? And what condition could you possibly be in a position to demand?"
The succubus straightened, meeting Valeria's gaze with calculating eyes betraying no emotions. "The human stays here. I need him to complete the spell."
Valeria's expression shifted, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face before her lips curved into a sly smile. "Interesting. I didn't think he would be that important." She turned fully, her hands resting slightly on her hips. "How quaint. Fine. He stays—for now. But don't think for a second that I'll tolerate any insolence. His usefulness will determine his survival."
Without wasting any more time she spun on her heels and walked away. As the heavy door creaked shut, the succubus exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the unconscious human across the cell.
"You're lucky I need you alive," she muttered.
Still, the weight of her circumstances bore down on her. Everything she had fought for—the hours, the pain, the sacrifices—was slipping through her grasp. The spell she had poured her life into would now serve Valeria, a self-serving tyrant who cared nothing for the Dreamweavers or their plight.
Her thoughts turned to the slums, to the sisters she had promised to save. The vision of lifting them from poverty, of giving them a chance at dignity, was fading like smoke on the wind. Valeria's greed ensured that the slums would remain as they were.
"Whatever…" she sighed. "I'll finish my spell and die like I was supposed to anyway."
There was no need to worry too much about it. She was already on a time limit anyway, and she knew it was unlikely she would see the fruit of her labor herself.
But as her gaze flicked to the human again, a small pang of something stirred within her. Pity? Curiosity? She wasn't sure.
She knew of his naive plan to unite succubi and humans to stand against Kaeris, a laughable dream at best. Succubi weren't built for unity, and certainly not for standing alongside the very creatures they were designed to prey upon. It was foolishness—pure and simple.
Still, she couldn't deny the faint pull of intrigue when she looked at him. There was something… Odd about him, a thing she couldn't quite place. Perhaps he just had this natural air around him that brought people together.
But questions could wait. Her body ached, and her mind begged for respite. She leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.
"A little sleep can't hurt…" she whispered before fading into a deep slumber.
A deep slumber for a succubus was nothing more than a shutdown. The reason why Dreamweavers couldn't fight back against the Nightlords, was because dreams were foreign to them.
Dreamweavers were the closest to humans in that regard, capable of dreaming like any normal person.
Usually, she was dreaming of her past, of simpler days.
Yes, she was an outcast, even amongst outcasts. Dreamweavers were avoiding her, except for a few who made her their sister. From birth, she was odd. With a knack for understanding things quickly and an insatiable curiosity, it was as though her lustful nature had turned into a lust for discovery.
She sought to understand this very world, their very nature. Why was it like this? How does it work? Her curiosity was insatiable, her mind a relentless seeker of truth.
But it was that same oddity that created a certain loneliness, clinging to her. There was a distance between her and her peers, a divide that could not be crossed. While they were all self-centered and only searching to please themselves, she sought to repair the broken, discover the unknown, and improve the squalid conditions of their existence.
She first created the veil covering the city, which finally stopped all the attacks from the other demons and sometimes careless and dangerous hunters who approached the city. She created a system that built magical houses, which at the time looked more like tents as succubi didn't even bother to build anything.
She created the pills made of condensed magical energy and human dreams, a complex mix of alchemy and Dreamweaver magic, enough to sustain one of her kind for a day. However, it was far from perfect and hard to produce as Dreamweavers had little access to humans at all.
But despite her contributions, she remained an outsider. She was a Dreamweaver, after all.
So she sought more, something to finally answer the question gnawing at her mind from birth.
Why are we, the predators of mankind, so inherently ignorant and foolish? Why do we cling to a stagnant existence, unable or unwilling to evolve? Could we not be more?
Her fascination with humans fed these questions. They were flawed, yes, but they were also brilliant. Capable of invention, discovery, and growth, humans were always striving to improve their lives, often at great cost to themselves. That relentless drive, that refusal to remain stagnant, captivated her.
She admired them, even envied them, though she would never admit it aloud. Humans had something her kind lacked—a will to progress, a spark that refused to be extinguished.
And she wondered, often in the quiet of her solitude, if her people could ever find that spark within themselves. Could the Dreamweavers evolve, as humans had? Could they break free from the chains of their nature and become something greater?
So she embarked on a long, centuries-old journey to finally get the answers to everything.
When she returned, her answer finally reached, she gave up on everything.
She opened her eyes.
"Hum, unusual." "Hm, unusual," she muttered, her voice rasping softly in the quiet of the cell. She stretched her neck, her muscles stiff from her sleeping position.
She then quickly cleaned her glasses and put them back on with a soft hum.
She wasn't used to dreaming in such a way—not of questions, not of her own life. Her dreams were typically fragmented memories, faint and unimportant snippets of her past. But this? This had been different.
For someone who had lived so long, it was only natural there was much to dream of. Yet this was unnerving.
Her gaze fell to the human across the cell, still unconscious but stirring slightly. She frowned. Was this strange dream connected to him somehow? No, it couldn't be. He might've had a role in it, but it was mostly the hopeless situation that reminded her of it all.
She couldn't change this society, no matter how much she tried. They were doomed to never evolve.
She sighed deeply and straightened, her thoughts drifting back to the spell she had promised herself to complete. With a slight appliance of magic on her eyes, she could sense that her furniture had been brought into the cell while she was asleep.
Without hesitation, she reached for the drawer in the desk and pulled out the small box. She opened it, but saw nothing inside, the two last pills were gone. She felt a small sting of irritation but brushed it aside when her fingers found a folded note tucked in the interstice of the drawer.
Unfolding it, she read the message written in neat, precise handwriting:
"You'll be provided for as long as you work. The rest is irrelevant."
She rolled her eyes, crumpling the note in her hand. Typical.
"They didn't have to confiscate it, though," she muttered, placing the box back into the drawer with a resigned shrug.
Her fingers lightly tapped the desk's surface as she assessed the tools she had left. Despite the frustration, she couldn't deny a small comfort in having her workspace, even under these conditions. She pushed the chair back and sat down, resting her hands on the desk.
With a deep breath, she began working as usual. The incantation wouldn't write itself.
A few hours passed, and she already finished a good quarter of what she had to do. Her eyes were strained from the intense reading and the little light she was provided by the candle next to her. As she rubbed her eyes, she noticed that the human was opening his eyes slowly, a groan escaping his lips.
From time to time, the servants of Valeria were to come inside the cell, attend to his wounds, and treat him with some healing magic. It looked like it had some effect in the end.
"Where… am I…?" he groaned, his hand caressing his head as he took in the surroundings. "Dammit, did I got kidnapped again?"
"Is it a common occurrence for you?" she asked dryly, her gaze not lifting from the parchment in front of her.
His head turned toward her, his eyes slowly adapting to the somber environment. "Kind of. Not really, actually. I got kidnapped once."
She finally glanced at him, her expression as unreadable as ever. "At least last time, you were lucky to escape. This time might be different."
Her tone wasn't threatening, yet it carried a weight that sent a shiver down Luka's spine. There was a sadness in her words, a quiet resignation that unsettled him.
"If you're saying that, then I'm guessing I'm in serious trouble," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"You're in the Velvet Palace," she continued, her hand returning to work on the parchment. "Mansion of Valeria."
"Valeria?" Luka echoed, intrigued.
"She is a third party in this city. She seeks to overthrow Danthea, the queen, and bring the succubi together to conquer humanity."
Luka frowned. In theory, it sounded like a good plan for them but it seemed the succubus in front of him wasn't really keen on the idea. "You don't seem to like that."
She paused for a moment, the pen in her hand hovering over the parchment. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she responded. "It would be pointless."
Pointless, huh… Luka echoed the thought in his mind. From his short time here, she seemed like the type to work hard for her fellow succubi but it seemed more complicated.
Her eyes were hollow, completely focused on the task at hand without even a spark that b betrayed a flicker of emotion.
The sound of the pen scratching on the paper filled the cell, only interspersed by the occasional soft "plick" of water droplets falling from the damp ceiling.
"So," Luka began cautiously, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Why am I here? And do you know where my friend is?"
The grating on the paper stopped abruptly. Her eyes stayed riveted on the desk she was sited to.
So that's what that was. The emotion she was feeling. It was that girl dying that made her mad more than anything.
"She's dead," the succubus said flatly, her tone betraying no hint of emotion.
"Huh?" the words hit Luka like a punch to the gut before fading almost as soon. "What are you talking about? She's still alive."
"Impossible," she cut in sharply. "I saw her get cleaved in half by Valeria."
"Yeah, but our contract is still here," Luka finally said with a smile and raised his left arm up in the air, showing the mark embedded on it.
The succubus blinked rapidly, her hand frozen mid-air as though her mind was struggling to keep up. The mark on Luka's arm gleamed faintly in the dim light, the unmistakable signature of a contract etched deep into his skin. She adjusted her glasses hurriedly, leaning closer to examine them.
"You… You…" she stammered, her brain short-circuiting. "You made a soul-bond contract with her?"
"Well, yeah…" Luka sighed. "She was severely wounded some time ago and I figured the only way to save her was through a contract."
For the first time ever since he met her, he saw a genuine expression of shock on her face.
"That's the first time…" she whispered, her eyes searching the papers below her. "So I was right…"
"What are you talking about?"
In a hurry, she opened a drawer and removed everything contained in it. After that task was completed, she removed the false bottom and pulled out a small notebook from it. With a slight puff of air, she blew the dust off of it and opened it.
With her eyes darting around the lines, she began writing around the last pages.
"What are you doing?" Luka asked as he tried to stand up to see what she was writing from his spot.
"Nothing that concerns you." she flatly said before putting the pen down and closing the notebook.
"Come on, you can't just say that and leave me hanging. What's in that notebook?"
Her expression hardened, the mask of detachment returning as she placed the notebook back into its hidden compartment. "It's nothing that will help you. Focus on staying alive instead."
Luka leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. "I'm alive—for now."
"It's not going to last. You will need to help me complete the spell otherwise Valeria will give you to Laura."
"And… is that bad?" he asked hesitantly.
"Do you want to die in the most miserable of ways?"
Luka shook his head quickly. "No."
"Then you'll work with me," she said, turning back to her desk, her voice brooking no argument.
Luka hesitated before speaking again. "But once the spell's done, what's stopping them from sending me to her anyway?"
"Nothing. They definitely will."
Luka stared at her, his teeth clenching. "I feel like I'm just being used here."
Her hand froze mid-motion, but she didn't look at him. "Yes," she sighed. "That's exactly what you were from the beginning. I hope you didn't expect a warm welcome in coming here."
"I did not expect a warm welcome but at least a bit of mercy," he sighed as well.
Suddenly, a realization seemed to strike him. He started patting his body in a frantic search, his fingers running over his chest, down his sides, and across his legs.
"Shit… Shit…" he muttered under his breath, panic creeping into his voice as his hands frantically checked the pockets of his jeans.
"What are you doing? Stop touching your inner thigh, it's embarrassing."
"That's not—!" he snapped back, his face flushing, but he quickly fell silent as he pulled his hands away from his body. "They took my jacket! And they got rid of all the talismans on me!"
The succubus couldn't hide the faint smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're utterly fucked now, aren't you?" she said softly, her tone almost sympathetic.
"Oh shut up!" he shot back, his limbs growing restless. "Without those, I can't fight back. I can't protect myself!"
Her smile deepened, a brief flash of something unreadable crossing her face. Her heartbeat began to accelerate, and something inside her stirred.
With a sudden jerk, she bit her lips, enough to draw blood at the startlement of Luka.
"What the…?" he trailed off, surprised by her sudden movement.
"N-Nothing…"she stammered, her voice shaky in a way that didn't match the calm persona she had carefully built. She quickly wiped the blood from her lips, but her hands trembled, betraying her composure. "Just… stop making any noise from now on. And stay still…"
Luka's brow furrowed in concern, but something in her tone made him pause, his instincts kicking in. She wasn't the same, and he wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.
He sat back down, his posture stiff, his eyes trained on her as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
With a painful expression, she began writing more and more, the movements of her hand turning frantic as her breath became labored.
For the next few hours, she barely moved. Her hand continued to scratch furiously across the paper, her breath labored, uneven, as though she was fighting some invisible force. Her legs trembled under the desk, her lips quivered, and her hands shook violently, yet she didn't look up from her writing.
Luka remained still, his mind racing, trying to understand what had caused this sudden shift. He stayed quiet, as she had told him, but it didn't make the situation any less unsettling.
Until a knock on the bars startled the both of them. A succubus entered the cell and without even sparing a glance at the both of them, deposited a single pill on the desk.
"Here, your ration for today."
Without another word, the succubus left the cell and walked away.
"A pill? What's that for—?"
Luka didn't even have the time to observe it that the succubus with the glasses immediately gulped it down, her breath labored.
For a moment, he feared she might collapse but instead, she calmed down and the trembling in her limbs wore off. With a few shaky breath, she readjusted her glasses and looked up at him.
"You can speak now," she said, not without effort. "I'm sorry for making you witness such a sorry state."
"What the hell is that pill?" Luka asked as he rose to his feet.
"Food," she replied as she still was catching her breath. "An invention I made some time ago. It was supposed to help the Dreamweavers but instead, they were enslaved further to create these."
Luka's mind raced as he processed her words. "You made that pill?"
She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. "Yes. It's human essence condensed, dreams made form. It was meant to be an easy access to food for the Dreamweavers but since it can also be consumed by the Nightlords…"
"They decided to put the Dreamweavers to work instead to create them."
"Exactly. It was a total failure. Again."
Luka felt a knot tie in his stomach.
"I was shaking earlier because I was without them for too long," she explained. "So my nature… took over for a bit."
Luka blinked, processing what she'd said. "Wait, succubi are all like that when they're hungry?"
She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping even further. "No. Just me." She paused, then added, almost reluctantly, "I haven't eaten a human in decades. So my body is craving that need."
Decades…? His eyes shot out of his eyeballs. How old was she?
"That's cheating, you still look young," Luka pouted, his arms crossed.
She looked at him, a faint smile pulling at her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Do you think eternal youth is a blessing?"
Luka faltered, caught off guard by her response. "I mean…" He trailed off, uncertain how to continue. It was an odd question.
"Were you conditioned to think eternal life is a curse?" she asked, her voice strangely gentle, as if she could see through him. "That's what most human cultures teach in their stories."
"Is it unusual to want to live forever?" Luka asked lowly, his figure retreating slightly in a corner.
"Are you ashamed of that thought?"
Luka shifted uncomfortably. "Why all these questions?"
She leaned back in her chair, studying him intently. There was something in her gaze that made him uneasy. It was like she was peering into his soul, dissecting his every thought.
"I find it curious," she said. "A lot of humans wish for eternal life, but that is all I know from my birth."
"But you're dying, right?"
"True…" her smile was peaceful. "I will soon die. But if I wanted to, or rather, if I were to eat again, I could live longer."
"Then why don't you do it? Because the Nightlords are monopolizing everything?"
"I want to die," she finally stated, her gaze unwavering. "Or, rather, I find no reason to live anymore."
"What do you mean, no reason?"Luka chuckled nervously, trying to make light of her words. "There are plenty of reasons to live, aren't they?"
Her gaze softened, but there was an underlying sadness in her eyes. "Perhaps…"
She couldn't shake the thought. In a sense, he was right. Every day could be different, every encounter is a reason to live for. This boy clearly had a deeper wish that he could live forever, or at least longer, she could see it.
Having lived for so long, it was simple to decipher people's thoughts. Even if each individual was different, patterns existed.
However, she didn't care much about living anymore. Not because he was wrong, but because it was simply a matter of circumstances. Once she achieved her final work, she would die and leave the world behind.
Her gaze hardened as she focused on Luka, breaking her silent reverie. "Tell me, Luka," she began, "If your life was nothing but a lie, would you still accept to live on?"
Luka tilted his head, clearly considering her question. "Does it really matter that it's a lie?"
"Of course. That's—"
She stopped herself. His response had come too quickly, too confidently. It was as if he had already answered this question in his mind.
"Your life is your life," Luka continued, a certain clarity in his eyes. "Even if it's a lie, you can still make it yours. No need to overcomplicate things. Otherwise, you start to go crazy and want to end it all."
He let out a long, steady breath, and his voice became more contemplative. "Like, thinking if you're really you or just acting in front of people. Wondering if you're really living the life you wanted. Questioning the meaning of your life. All of that is pointless because it holds no answers."
"Still…" he chuckled bitterly, his gaze dropping. "I understand why people could ask such questions. Especially when everything turns to shit and you feel like there is no hope."
That human, is he…?
Or at least he may have been once like that.
Her thoughts stilled as she gazed at him. That resignation, that quiet acceptance of the futility of it all—it reminded her of something she had long buried. The same hopelessness she had seen in countless others before their untimely end.
He was younger, but the look in his eyes told her that it had already touched him.
She broke the silence, her voice soft but insistent. "Enough talk for now," she said, her focus returning to her desk. She opened a drawer, retrieving something she had carefully hidden. "Come, I need your help with the spell."
Luka nodded, snapping out of his contemplative state. "Okay, no problem."
He was just a human, true. But he could still help her.
Such a pity that his life would end soon.
A smile formed at the corner of her lips.
He would have made a great apprentice.