Susan folded her arms with a knowing smirk. "So," she drawled, tilting her head toward the scorched alley. "Lucian, huh? Didn't think he'd crawl out of whatever pit he's been sulking in."
I exhaled sharply, still catching my breath. "I... don't know why he was here." My fingers tightened around my staff. "He ambushed me. Maybe he thought I was an easy target."
Rowan grunted thoughtfully, resting his lance against his shoulder. "Doubt it was random. Demons don't waste time without purpose." His keen eyes scanned the remains of the alley as if expecting Lucian to reform from the ashes.
Sir Cedric nodded slowly but kept his gaze fixed on me. "He knew you were here. Which means... someone else knows."
The unspoken implication hung heavily in the air—Astoroth knows.
I sighed, pressing a hand to my temple. The fatigue of the fight was catching up to me, pounding like a drum in my skull. "I should've expected something... but—"
Sir Cedric's nose wrinkled, cutting me off. "Not to be rude... but you smell like—"
I flushed, immediately slapping a hand over my mouth. "I might've had a drink," I mumbled through my fingers.
Rowan let out a rare snort of amusement, while Susan burst into open laughter. "Might've? I can smell the brewery from here!"
I groaned, mortified. Before I could defend myself, Susan stepped forward, still chuckling. Her hand began to glow softly with holy light. She gently placed it on my shoulder, and a soothing warmth spread through me like a gentle breeze clearing away a storm.
The throbbing ache in my head vanished instantly, replaced by clarity and refreshment. Even my clothes felt clean, as though I hadn't been staggering through the streets just moments ago.
I blinked in astonishment. "I—thank you."
Susan winked playfully. "Perks of being a priest."
Sir Cedric smiled faintly, clearly relieved, while Rowan gave a satisfied nod.
Rowan studied me with a rare softness in his gaze. "Are you... okay?"
I knew what he meant. He wasn't asking about my injuries—he'd seen me walk away from worse. He was asking about something deeper: the betrayal. The raw, cutting realization that I'd been played like a fool.
I let out a long breath, tightening my grip on my staff. "I don't know." My voice trembled despite my best effort. "I trusted him... thought he was on our side."
The words burned like acid on my tongue. "I brought him to the King's palace. If it weren't for all of you, he could've—"
"Stop."
Sir Cedric's warm, calloused hand settled firmly on my shoulder. His presence was steady, grounding me like solid stone. I looked up, startled, and found his brown eyes fixed intently on mine.
"I'm sorry... for accusing you." His voice was low, sincere. "Rowan told us everything. You're cleared of all suspicion." He hesitated, his gaze softening further. "And... I'm sorry you had to go through that."
He leaned in slightly, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. His sincerity was disarming, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight on my chest lightened just a little.
I managed a faint, genuine smile. "Thank you... Sir Cedric."
His mouth quirked into a small smile of his own. "Cedric's fine."
Rowan coughed lightly, cutting through the moment with his usual bluntness. "We should keep moving. The King will be waiting."
Right. Back to reality. But even as I nodded and prepared to follow them, I could still feel the ghost of Cedric's touch on my shoulder—steady, strong... and, for the first time in a long while, safe.
I lingered behind the group, my boots scuffing softly against the cobbled streets of the capital. The chilly night air nipped at my skin, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere—trapped in the strange, unfamiliar warmth still blooming in my chest.
Safe.
When was the last time I'd truly felt that way? Protected—not because of who I was or what I could do, but simply... safe.
Roderick came to mind first, as he always did. My brother, my shield, my wall against the world. He was dependable, fierce, and unyielding. When he was near, I didn't need to worry about anything. But he was my brother—his protection was a given, forged in blood and shared history.
Rowan... Rowan was different. A legend in his own right—the best monster-hunter in the world. I trusted him with my life because his skill left no room for doubt. Yet... that feeling I had tonight... it wasn't the same.
But Cedric...
I swallowed, fingers tightening around my staff as the memory of his warm, steady hand on my shoulder resurfaced. The way he'd leaned in, voice low and sincere, making me feel seen in a way I hadn't in years. His brown eyes had held something more than duty—something deeper, steadier... real.
Was it... mutual?
My heart quickened at the thought, a ridiculous notion blooming before I could crush it down. What if it was just me? What if I was reading too much into a moment born of shared danger and desperation?
I sighed, shaking my head at myself. I was a battle-scarred mage with more regrets than memories. What place did I have entertaining this—whatever this was—while Astoroth still stalked the world?
Yet... for the first time in forever, something within me dared to hope.
Am I falling for him... or is this just loneliness wearing a kinder face?
"Did you hear me, Thalia?"
The King's voice snapped me back to reality, sharp and commanding. My breath hitched as I realized where I was—standing in the grand throne room, directly in front of King Alden himself. His piercing gaze weighed heavily on me from his gilded throne, his hands resting firmly on its carved arms.
I blinked, still half-lost in my thoughts, and quickly glanced around. Rowan stood to my left, arms crossed with that familiar stoic confidence, though his lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. Susan was next to him, failing entirely—her eyes sparkling with amusement.
I cleared my throat. "N-no, my King. I... apologize. What is going on?"
King Alden let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple like a tired grandfather. "I said I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice rough but sincere. "For doubting you. For accusing you of bringing a demon into my palace."
My eyes widened in surprise. Apologies were rare from rulers of his stature.
He continued, "Sir Cedric reported seeing you kill the Pride Demon, Lucian, alone." His gaze softened, though it still carried the weight of authority. "You've proven yourself beyond any doubt."
I managed a faint nod, still processing his words.
"Thank you for your service." His voice resonated through the chamber with finality. "Now, our attention turns to the last remaining threat... Astoroth."
The air grew colder at the mention of the name, tension crackling through the room like distant thunder. Even Rowan's expression darkened, his grip tightening around his lance.
King Alden rose slowly from his throne, his eyes blazing with determination. "Tomorrow, you will ride to the battlefield." His voice rang with unyielding authority. "Sir Cedric, Sihir, Rowan... and you, Thalia."
My heart thudded painfully in my chest.
"You will lead my armies," he commanded, his tone as unshakable as stone. "End this. Defeat Astoroth—once and for all."
Silence followed, heavy and absolute. Every breath felt sharp, every second stretched into eternity. I forced myself to stand taller, meeting the King's fierce gaze.
There was no room for doubt.
"Yes, my King."
King Alden dismissed us with a firm nod. "Rest up. Use this palace as your home tonight—you'll leave at dawn."
The weight of his words still lingered in the air as we bowed respectfully and stepped back from the grand throne room. Once outside, Rowan fell into step beside me, his ever-watchful gaze scanning the long palace corridors. Susan strolled ahead, completely at ease, guiding us through the labyrinthine halls like she'd lived here her entire life.
"Stop hovering like a worried dog, Rowan," she teased without looking back. "I know exactly where I'm going."
Rowan snorted but didn't respond, keeping pace like a silent guardian. I couldn't help but smirk—he was sticking to Susan like glue.
We eventually arrived at the royal dining hall—a place so extravagant it made my head spin. The table stretched endlessly, set with gleaming silverware and adorned with golden chandeliers that sparkled like stars. Uniformed servants moved with practiced grace, placing platters of delicacies fit for kings—because they were for kings.
I sat down slowly, still feeling out of place in such grandeur. Before I could even adjust, Rowan and Susan were already eating. Rowan, ever the practical dwarf, dug in with silent efficiency, while Susan enjoyed her meal with the practiced grace of someone long used to noble settings.
I hesitated only a moment before hunger won. This is the best meal I'd tasted in forever. The first bite melted on my tongue—a perfect blend of spices I couldn't even name. Before I knew it, I was eating like there was no tomorrow.
Susan raised an eyebrow, amused. "Starving, are we?"
I swallowed, sheepish. "Let's just say the road didn't exactly spoil us."
"Clearly." She leaned back with a lazy smirk. "Enjoy it while you can. Who knows when you'll get another meal like this."
Rowan grunted. "Food's food. It's good... but I prefer something cooked over a campfire."
"Of course you do." Susan rolled her eyes playfully. "Let me guess—roasted boar with questionable seasoning and a side of dirt?"
Rowan's mouth twitched, almost smiling. "Keeps you alive."
"Ugh, you're impossible," Susan laughed, raising her glass in mock toast.
I chuckled softly, feeling the tension in my chest ease for the first time in what felt like weeks. For a moment, it was just the three of us—no demons, no war, no looming battle ahead. Just three warriors sharing a meal, bound together by fate.
Rowan eyes then locked onto mine. He then asked, "If Lucian's here. How was your families in Hollowbrook? Are they safe?"
I paused, swallowing the last bite before answering Rowan's question. "They're safe." My voice was steady, but inside, my chest tightened. "I put a spell on Hollowbrook. If anyone with a mana pool bigger than mine comes near, the spell activates and pulls me there instantly."
He knew as well as I did—if my spell hadn't triggered, it meant Lucian's mana pool was lower than mine. He was weaker.
Rowan nodded slowly, but his sharp eyes remained locked on me. He knew I wasn't finished.
I exhaled. "I haven't seen Roderick in months... but Lucian mentioned he visited my family."
Rowan's knuckles whitened as his fists clenched. I could practically feel his restrained anger simmering beneath the surface.
"I didn't know whether he spoke truth, about visiting my family,"
"Then I saw it." My voice dropped. "Lucian's shoulder was... chipped. Like something massive and sharp hit him."
Rowan raised an eyebrow. "Your brother's axes."
I nodded. "It had to be."
Susan smirked from across the table, swirling her drink lazily. "Oooh, your brother must be strong." Her teasing tone did little to hide her genuine curiosity.
I met her gaze without hesitation. "He's the strongest person I know... at least, when it comes to sheer muscle."
Her smirk widened. "Stronger than Sir Cedric?"
I hesitated. "I don't know... we just met."
Susan's eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something knowing in her expression. "I smell something from you," she teased.
Heat rushed to my face, but before I could snap back, heavy boots echoed in the dining hall.
I turned—and there he was.
Sir Cedric.
Towering, powerful, every inch of him radiating strength and resolve. But what caught my attention wasn't just him—it was the figure clinging to his arm like royalty.
Sihir.
Her radiant red hair gleamed like molten fire under the chandelier's glow, and her piercing blue eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned possessively against Sir Cedric's armored arm. She whispered something in his ear, laughing softly.
My stomach twisted in a way I couldn't quite explain.
Sir Cedric exhaled sharply as he sits in front of us, yanking his arm free from Sihir's lingering grasp. Her perfectly shaped lips twitched in mild annoyance, but she didn't press the matter. I held back a laugh, earning a side-eye glance from her that could've frozen lava.
"Tomorrow," Sir Cedric began, his voice resolute, "we're going to end this war. We'll take down the strongest being I've ever faced."
"Aye," Rowan added, his tone steady as ever. "But this time, you're not alone."
Sir Cedric nodded once, appreciating the sentiment but still bearing the weight of grim reality on his shoulders.
Almost without thinking, I blurted out, "You've fought him before?"
His sharp brown eyes met mine, unwavering. Sihir scoffed softly, her piercing blue gaze locking onto me like a predator that had just found prey.
"He leads the army right in the frontline," she said smoothly, her voice like silk dipped in venom. "Of course, he's fought Astoroth before."
I bit my lip but held her gaze, refusing to flinch.
"Yes," Sir Cedric admitted, drawing my attention back to him. "I've faced him... but calling it a 'fight' would be generous." His jaw clenched, his hands resting on the hilt of his sheathed greatsword. "He was toying with me."
A cold chill settled over the table.
Shit.
Even him—the strongest knight in the entire kingdom—didn't stand a chance against Astoroth.
"But that doesn't mean he's invincible," Sir Cedric continued, his voice steady but fierce. "He can get hurt. And with enough power... we can take him down."
"That's where I come in." Sihir's voice dripped with smug confidence, her piercing blue eyes gleaming with superiority. Her gaze lingered on me, cold and taunting, as if daring me to object. Gods, if it were just the two of us, I might've punched that perfect face.
"But fighting Astoroth doesn't mean just fighting him," Sir Cedric interjected, dragging the conversation back on track. "We'll be facing his entire army—thousands strong. My soldiers can only hold them for so long... but not forever."
Rowan nodded grimly. "Cut through his forces, carve a path. Then strike."
"We'll need to keep Astoroth pinned down long enough for Sihir to launch her spell," Sir Cedric added.
"Which means you have to keep him occupied," Sihir said smoothly, her eyes locking onto mine like a predator sizing up its prey. The meaning was clear: Don't screw this up.
Her gaze burned with expectation—you're the imperfection in this plan.
I clenched my fists beneath the table, already bristling.
"When Astoroth is held firm..." Sihir smiled ever so slightly, "...I'll end him."
I slowly raised my voice, "I can take out his entire armies of minions... everyone except Astoroth himself."
The words hung in the air, bold and dangerous. Sihir's piercing blue eyes snapped to me, glittering with intrigue—and doubt.
"Bold claim," she drawled, tapping her long, elegant fingers on the table. "Do tell, what grand magic could manage that? Or is this just empty bravado?"
"It's not a claim," I replied coldly. "It's a fact. I have a spell—one designed just for this."
Rowan's face darkened, his jaw tightening as he folded his arms across his chest. "She sure can do it, I seen it with my own eyes. But, Astoroth's not coming alone. On our way here, we ran into Hastira, Demon of Impatience. She said she was one of his general commanders." His voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it.
Sir Cedric's gaze sharpened, his expression hardening into something grim. "Astoroth has three generals," he confirmed quietly. "Hastira was one of them." He turned toward Rowan, expectant. "I assume you killed her?"
Before Rowan could answer, Susan's voice cut through the tension like steel drawn from a scabbard. "I killed her."
Sir Cedric's brow lifted, faint surprise flickering across his features—but it was quickly replaced with solemn respect. "As it should be," he said simply.
I exchanged a glance with Rowan, then refocused on Sir Cedric. "If there are two more generals like Hastira... who are they?"
His eyes darkened, his voice grim. "There's Veythra, the Warbringer. She commands the ground forces. Relentless. Strategic. No mercy."
"And the other?" I asked, my pulse quickening.
His expression grew even more severe. "Kazareth. The Blightcaller. A walking plague. Wherever he treads, death follows."
The table fell silent, the weight of those names pressing down on us like a suffocating fog. My mind raced with grim possibilities, already crafting spells and tactics.
Rowan spoke next, his voice low and steady. "If we're facing those two... we'll need more than just strategy."
"We'll need perfection," Sihir added smoothly, her voice like silk over steel. She tilted her head, her piercing gaze locking onto mine with unspoken judgment. "No room for mistakes."
I met her stare evenly. "I'm not planning to make any."
The room plunged back into stillness—thick with understanding and the resolve of those ready to face the end of the world.
Sir Cedric's voice cut through the heavy stillness like a blade slicing through taut rope. "I'll take Kazareth."
His declaration was calm, absolute, as if facing a living plague was just another task to cross off his list. "From all of us here, I have the best chance of stopping him."
I watched his face—steady, determined, without a trace of hesitation. He meant every word.
"Sihir won't engage directly," he continued, his tone sharp and commanding. "She'll stay out of sight until the perfect moment, striking when the opening comes." His gaze shifted to me. "And you, Thalia—you'll be our lynchpin. Use your magic to wipe out Astoroth's forces or tip the fight in our favor. Keep us alive."
I nodded, swallowing hard. This wasn't just a strategy meeting—it was a death sentence written in battle plans.
"That leaves Astoroth and Veythra." Susan's voice was quiet but firm.
Rowan straightened, his expression hard as iron. "I'll take Veythra."
But Sir Cedric shook his head sharply. "No. She's not worth your time."
Rowan frowned, but Sir Cedric's commanding tone left no room for argument. "You'll take him."
Astoroth. The name fell like a curse in the room. Even Sihir's confident smirk flickered for a split second.
Rowan considered it, his eyes narrowing in calculation. For a moment, there was only the crackle of the hearth's distant flames.
"Sure." His answer came with quiet certainty—not arrogance, just resolve.
My breath hitched. I clenched my fists under the table, forcing my expression to remain still, but my thoughts spun like a whirlpool.
Of everyone in this room—of everyone in this world—Rowan was our best shot at bringing Astoroth down. Not because of brute strength or magical prowess, but because of who he was.
Rowan Hale. The best monster-hunter alive. He didn't just fight monsters—he studied them, knew them, and most importantly... he survived them.
If anyone could tear Astoroth open wide enough for Sihir to deliver the final, killing blow... it was Rowan.
I just hoped the cost wouldn't be too high.
Sir Cedric pushed back his chair with a measured scrape, his face grim but resolute. "Alright," he said, his deep voice steady. "I think that should be clear enough." He glanced around the table, letting his gaze settle on each of us in turn, weighing our readiness.
"We'll deal with Veythra when the time comes," he continued. "She's an absolute monster, but Astoroth and Kazareth take priority. You'll understand why soon enough." His tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument. He adjusted his sword belt, the leather creaking faintly, before turning toward the grand doors leading out of the chamber.
Sihir rose gracefully, smoothing out her flowing robe, her piercing blue eyes flicking toward me with her usual unreadable expression. She didn't say a word, just offered a slight, knowing tilt of her head before following Sir Cedric out, her long red hair catching the soft glow of the enchanted lights.
The heavy doors closed behind them with a resonant thud, leaving the rest of us sitting in reflective silence. Rowan crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in deep thought, while Susan leaned back in her chair, her usual smirk replaced by something far more somber.
I exhaled slowly and pushed back from the table. I'd need every ounce of strength for what lay ahead.
The private chamber assigned to me was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Tall arched ceilings soared above, their stone surfaces carved with intricate constellations that shimmered faintly under the soft, magical glow. Elegant tapestries depicting epic battles adorned the walls, their craftsmanship so fine they seemed to move in the firelight.
A massive canopy bed stood at the room's center, draped with thick velvet curtains embroidered with golden threads. The mattress looked impossibly soft, piled high with silk blankets and embroidered pillows—a stark contrast to the cold, hard ground I'd slept on during countless journeys.
But it was the grand claw-footed tub across the room that truly caught my attention. Steam rose invitingly from the surface of the water, scented faintly with lavender and herbs. A bath already drawn… the palace truly didn't hold back.
With a sigh of relief, I stripped away my travel-worn gear and stepped into the soothing warmth. The water embraced me, washing away grime and exhaustion in one blissful rush. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I let myself relax. My tense muscles slowly unwound, the firelight flickering softly across the room.
But even in this haven of comfort, my mind refused to settle. Images of battle flashed behind my eyelid. They wouldn't let me rest.
With a determined breath, I pushed those thoughts away, letting the warmth soothe me into calm. Just one night, I told myself. One night of peace before the storm.
I wrapped myself in the thick linen robe laid out beside the tub and padded across the warm stone floor. As I slipped beneath the impossibly soft covers, the bed cradled me like a protective cocoon. The crackling fire cast gentle warmth across my face, lulling me into stillness.
Tomorrow would be brutal. But for tonight… just tonight… I let sleep claim me.
To be continued...