The days that followed blurred into a cold haze of training, endurance, and servitude. The Demon Queen kept Rael busy from the moment he rose in his small stone cell to the moment he collapsed back onto its hard surface, barely able to close his eyes before the next call came. She had made no mention of his sister, nor did she seem particularly interested in granting him a path to freedom. Instead, Rael became accustomed to a routine designed to test his limits—and sometimes, to break them.
His mornings began in the fortress's underground training grounds, a vast, dimly lit cavern filled with the echoes of growls, clanging metal, and the hiss of magic. Demons of all sizes, forms, and temperaments drilled there, training for battles that Rael could only imagine. The queen's lieutenant, a tall, wiry demon with spiked scales and a grim expression named Voss, took personal charge of Rael's instruction.
Voss rarely spoke, and when he did, his voice was a gravelly growl, but his orders left no room for questions.
"Strike harder, human," Voss commanded one morning as he paced behind Rael, his crimson eyes never leaving Rael's struggling form. Rael swung the heavy training sword again, his arms aching from hours of repetition.
"Harder," Voss repeated, his patience unyielding.
Rael gritted his teeth, grunting as he tried to put his remaining strength into the swing, though the blade felt more like a boulder in his hands. Finally, he dropped it, panting heavily, his legs trembling.
"I can't… keep up," Rael admitted between gasps.
Voss narrowed his eyes, a sneer pulling at his thin lips. "Weakness won't be tolerated, especially not for a servant of our queen."
Rael's heart sank at the reminder. The queen's eyes had been gleeful as she'd bound him to her service, as if she found his suffering nothing short of delightful. He had yet to decide if she was simply testing him or genuinely interested in his survival.
But his time under her command wasn't only about training. After his grueling mornings, Rael was required to attend the queen's court, which was no less exhausting. He spent hours standing by her throne, listening as creatures from every corner of her vast realm presented grievances, made offers, or sought her favors. She would sit upon her black iron throne, exuding her icy authority, while Rael waited in silence, observing her every move, listening to the threads of power woven through her every word.
And at night, there was no respite. She would summon him alone to her private chamber, where the atmosphere felt even more charged, even dangerous.
One evening, as Rael stood before her, she traced her fingers over a series of ancient scrolls spread across a dark, marble table. Without looking up, she asked, "Do you know what this is, Rael?"
Rael glanced down, trying to make sense of the strange symbols on the parchment, which glowed faintly, as if imbued with some dormant power.
"No, my Queen," he said, keeping his voice steady.
"It's a record," she explained, her eyes never leaving the scroll, "of every pact, every conquest, every life I have bound to my will. Some names, as you can imagine, were unwilling. Others… foolishly sought my favor."
Rael remained silent, unsure of her intention. He felt her gaze on him, sharp and probing, as if daring him to interrupt.
"But it's more than that," she continued, her voice a low murmur. "This is the history of my realm—each decision a thread in the tapestry of my power." She lifted her gaze, and her crimson eyes met his, gleaming with a hunger that made his blood run cold.
"Your sister, Rael," she said suddenly, as if the name had been plucked from his own thoughts. "Do you know where she was taken?"
Rael's heart skipped a beat, the question throwing him off balance. "No," he replied cautiously, his hands tightening at his sides.
The queen smiled, a thin, dangerous curve of her lips. "Then I'll make you a promise," she said, her tone almost sweet, but Rael could sense the steel beneath. "If you succeed in the tasks I set before you, I will tell you what I know."
A thousand questions surged in his mind, but Rael forced himself to remain composed. If she knew something, it was best not to push her too far—yet.
"What do you ask of me, my Queen?"
Her smile widened. "For now, obedience. You may prove yourself useful in time."
The days slipped into weeks, each one leaving Rael a little stronger, a little more accustomed to the brutality of his training and the shadowed court he served. His nights were haunted by his sister's face, his determination to find her growing with each challenge, each command from the queen that he forced himself to complete.
One morning, as he entered the training grounds, Rael noticed a figure standing apart from the usual throng of demons. The figure was hooded, but a glint of golden eyes flashed beneath the shadow, fixed intently on Rael. Something about those eyes struck him, sending a chill down his spine.
"Rael!" Voss barked from the other end of the grounds, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Your weapon."
Rael took up his training sword, but his attention kept drifting to the hooded figure, who hadn't moved, still watching him intently. The rest of his session passed in a haze, his curiosity and unease growing with each passing second. When his training finally ended, he made his way over to where the figure had been standing, but they were gone, leaving only the faint scent of something earthy and floral.
As he turned to leave, a voice—soft, almost a whisper—spoke behind him.
"You are bound to her, aren't you?"
Rael spun around, but no one was there. He took a step forward, scanning the shadows, his heart hammering. "Who are you?"
A chuckle echoed from the darkness, then the figure emerged, close enough that Rael could make out her sharp features—a young woman, demon-like, but with a gentler expression than any he'd encountered here. She was clad in a robe of deep green, the color of moss in shadows, and her golden eyes sparkled with a strange light.
"I've been watching you," she said, her gaze unreadable. "And I think I can help you."
Rael narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. "Help me? Why would you do that?"
She smiled, a small, almost sympathetic curve of her lips. "You're not the first human to serve our queen, but I believe you may be the first with the heart to resist her. And for that… I may have something you need."
Rael's breath hitched. "And what is it that I need?"
She tilted her head, a glint of amusement in her gaze. "The means to free yourself. And perhaps even the key to finding your sister." She held up a small vial, the liquid inside a soft, shimmering gold. "Take this. But be warned—it is a step, not a solution. You must decide how to use it."
Rael stared at the vial, his pulse racing as he took it from her hand. The glass was warm against his palm, and the strange, golden liquid seemed to pulse faintly, almost alive.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked again, unable to shake his suspicions.
"Because, Rael, our queen may hold your life, but I believe you hold a future even she cannot see." Her voice softened. "And that… intrigues me."
Before he could respond, she stepped back, vanishing into the shadows like mist in the morning light. Rael clenched the vial tightly in his hand, staring down at it as his mind spun with questions.
If there was a chance to break his bond with the queen, to regain his freedom and find his sister, then he would take it—no matter the risks.
And as he slipped the vial into his pocket, he could feel the beginnings of something new, a hope that, despite the darkness surrounding him, had begun to flicker within.