The sun was setting when Eryk and Velmora first saw the towering sea-salted spires of Kael Thalor, the largest independent port city this side of the continent. Fires still burned in the boy's memory — his village gone, his eye bandaged, his soul hollow. And now, behind him, followed four lesser demons in human skins — and one demoness who frightened him more than death itself.
Velmora walked with graceful silence, dragging no shadows. She appeared human now, her silver-black hair tied neatly and her eyes dull to mortal red — yet still unnatural. As they traveled the trade road, Eryk occasionally glanced at the strange black spider she now kept on her shoulder. It shimmered with faint runes.
"Is that thing safe?" he asked once, half-joking.
Velmora didn't even look at him. "It sees what I cannot. That is enough."
He dropped the subject immediately.
THE CITY GATES
As they approached Kael Thalor's wide iron gates, they were met with predictable resistance. Guards at the checkpoint held spears out as they neared.
"Halt! Entry requires official trade or noble clearance. Show your papers."
Eryk stepped forward, nervous but hopeful. "I—uh—we came from the outer region. Our village was—"
"No papers, no entry." The guard cut him off, unimpressed. "Back to the road, boy."
Before Eryk could speak again, Velmora stepped forward, her hand slowly reaching into her coat. With a single motion, she pulled out a dark-crimson sigil, laced in gold, etched with a royal seal unknown to this city.
The moment the guards laid eyes on it, they froze. Their eyes widened, and one of them stumbled backward.
"Th-that's a High Lord's Crest! No—wait—an Empress Pass—from the eastern continent?"
The senior guard shouted to his men, "Push the crowd back! Let them through!" He turned to Velmora. "Forgive us, Empress. We will arrange transport to the city lord's estate at once! Riders—inform Lord Varell!"
Eryk stood there, stunned.
"What… what pass did you just show them?"
Velmora finally glanced at him. "An official Empress Pass."
"…You're royalty?"
"That would be one word for it."
LORD VARELL INTERRUPTED
Meanwhile, in the velvet-laced luxury of the lord's castle, Lord Varell was in no mood for news. He was, in fact, engaged with one of his courtesans when the breathless guard burst into his chamber.
"My lord!"
Varell, irritated, flung a silken robe at the soldier. "What is it now? Can't you see I'm—"
"It's the Empress! A foreign empress! She's been escorted through the gates under the highest authority! She carries a sigil from the eastern continent!"
The name hit Varell like a thunderclap. His face went pale, and his lips trembled.
"She—what? Here? Now?"
"She'll be at your doorstep within minutes, my lord."
The nobleman scrambled to his feet, barking orders between pulling on his trousers. "Wake every guard! Clean the entire manor! Dress the staff—now! Ready the reception hall! This is a once-in-a-lifetime event! She must be welcomed personally!"
THE ARRIVAL
As the carriage arrived at the castle, Lord Varell stood sweating, out of breath from sprinting from his chambers to the front gate.
The doors opened.
Velmora stepped down, her demon-tinged poise evident even in her human form. Eryk followed hesitantly, still ragged from their journey.
"My Lady Empress," the Lord bowed deeply, "you honor us with your presence. My home is yours. Say the word, and we will clear the entire castle—"
"Unnecessary," Velmora cut him off sharply. "We've had a long journey. We'll be intruding for a few days. The boy is hungry. Ensure dinner is ready within twenty minutes."
"Yes, yes, of course! At once!" the lord said, half-bowing again. "This is your home, Empress, truly! Anything you need—anything at all—"
"We'll discuss more at the table," Velmora said, brushing past him.
IN THE GUEST WING
In the guest quarters, she turned to her demons.
"Guard the hallway. None enter without my word."
As they stood at rigid attention, Velmora walked to the large black mirror in the corner and activated the sigil on her palm. A dark ripple spread across it as her image shimmered — contacting Malgus directly through infernal communication.
"Status report complete," she said.
Far away, in the Eternal Prison, Malgus stood towering over the flayed, writhing bodies of the rebellious Grand Dukes, their flesh regrowing, only to be torn again in endless torment.
"Good," he replied coldly. "The mortals?"
"They grovel as expected."
Malgus's laughter echoed through the prison like thunder.
DINNER AND STRATEGY
The dinner table gleamed under gold chandeliers. Velmora sat at the head. Eryk awkwardly took a seat beside her, still in torn clothes. Across from them, Lord Varell, his wife, mistress, and young daughter sat, doing their best to appear dignified.
"This will be short," Velmora said bluntly. "We will be holding a banquet in two days. All nobles and officials are to attend."
Varell nodded furiously. "Of course, of course! It would be our highest honor. May I also suggest—perhaps—new clothing for the boy? He appears…"
"Ragged," Velmora finished. "Yes. See to it."
"Also, shall I prepare a ship? In case you intend to travel after the banquet?"
Velmora nodded. "Three days. Have it ready."
AFTER DINNER
Once she retired to her chambers, Velmora called for one of the lesser demons.
"You. Inspect the city. Discreetly."
Then, she turned to the spider on her shoulder, placing it carefully onto a carved pedestal. Her eyes flashed as she focused.
Through the spider's vision, she watched Lord Varell speak privately to his wife and mistress.
"If we can have our daughter marry that boy… imagine it. A royal bloodline tied to Kael Thalor. The son of an empress!"
Velmora chuckled, low and wicked.
"These mortals are so predictable," she whispered. "We'll use this… before we reach our true destination."
The spider clicked softly as Velmora's crimson smile widened—razor sharp.
WHISPERS AND WARDENS
All across the port city, whispers began to spread.
"A foreign queen has arrived."
"They say she walks with demons."
"She's here with her son."
"Maybe she's come to marry him into a noble line!"
By morning, nobles scrambled to prepare for the banquet, eyeing Eryk as a prize, a ladder to divine status.
Meanwhile, in the Eternal Prison, Malgus stood amidst screams and flayed souls. He watched the Grand Dukes suffer beneath his shadow.
"You thought death would save you," he muttered. "But you forgot we are beyond death."
Their flesh regrew again. Screams rose again.
And Malgus smiled like a god who remembered the taste of vengeance.