Chains clanged as the army sorcerer knelt, fastening them around Azael's ankles before rising.
The sorcerer held his gaze on Azael's face, strands of midnight-dark hair falling on either side of a weary expression.
His pale skin was bare beneath a simple brown loincloth.
He stood tall, body marked by wisteria oil and faint traces of dust—yet still unbroken, even after the punishments Nasaer had inflicted to strip him of his threat to the kingdom, forcing him to endure the burning judgment of daylight each morning.
A power made obedient.
"How long?" Azael's voice came hoarse. "How long do I have to endure this? A cycle of the sun has ended."
The sorcerer hesitated. "The king has promised your release—but not as a free man. You're indebted to serve the kingdom as a warrior until death."
Azael scoffed, still not lifting his head.
The sorcerer flinched when Azael shifted, lowering himself onto the dried grass, arms resting over his knees—returning to the posture of restraint.
"You cannot afford defiance, Azael," the sorcerer said. "You know what is at st—"
"What difference is their turning against me in the future from now?" Azael cut in, voice sharper.
The sorcerer stepped back. "Your soul would be damned forever if you lose restraint. The people you love will hate you."
Silence settled.
Azael lifted his head. Crimson eyes glowed faintly beneath the prison's dim light spilling through the bars.
The sorcerer stepped back again.
The king had made these visits compulsory—his punishment for resurrecting Azael.
"Even you," Azael said quietly, gaze fixed. "Despite it being your sin…a curse you forced onto my still body."
The sorcerer lowered his eyes, searching for guilt he could no longer reach.
His fear won quickly.
"Your will to continue as a demon should not exist," the sorcerer said. "That is where the demon thrives—your pride as a warrior. You must fight its impulses by humbling yourself before your origin…before humans."
"Fight impulses?" Azael leaned back against the clay wall. "Except during war."
"You owe the king your allegiance," the sorcerer insisted. "You were sworn to it even before now."
"Then why treat me like a traitor?" Azael asked.
The sorcerer swallowed.
He had tried his best to find a reversal spell—even if it meant Azael's soul would be lost alongside the demon's.
Away from this world, not sitting and alive.
"I am working on a cure…" he began.
"A cure?" Azael echoed. "Wasn't this what you wanted? What you brought upon me when you should have let me rest in death?"
"I am your father!" the sorcerer snapped. "I know what is best for you. The king knows. The kingdom knows."
Azael's gaze shifted away, and the sorcerer exhaled, calming himself.
At least the man in the demon still answered—at least until he found a way to destroy both.
"The next visit might be better," the sorcerer said.
The cell door opened and the sorcerer stepped aside.
Two men in rough clothing threw in a massive dead cave lion that landed a few feet before where Azael sat.
He didn't flinch or look at it.
"You only need to endure a little longer," the sorcerer added, already turning away.
The cave door shut behind him.
As he walked off, his thoughts lingered on what Azael's continued existence might mean for the kingdom.
It was anything but safety.
**
Syrus flipped through his spell book beneath a canopy of fractured sunlight, trying to understand the transferring spell of a demon into a mortal vessel.
Today was the third day—his deadline for grace from the wolves' alpha.
He still couldn't find a counter spell to separate a demon from its host by a sorcerer's will.
He raised his head, exhausted, leaning back as he faced the now inanimate tree before him.
A beautiful tree only under moonlight—and monstrous too.
Its almost grey bark stayed dark and still in place, thick mint-green leaves hanging heavy, so dense that even the sunlight avoided touching it.
His body felt stronger.
His injuries healed.
His purpose felt clearer.
He needed more. He needed to experiment.
Could the results be different since Fen wasn't human?
What if the tree that had healed him knew about the limits of such a spell?
Syrus frowned. He wanted to know more.
His gaze narrowed on the tree.
His spells were important—possibly even more important in taming two demons under his control—but he had to be careful.
He had to learn.
The alpha was a rare opportunity…but his life might also be at stake if he performed such a ritual.
He couldn't ask for more time.
It would mean death.
He lowered his head back to the spell book.
Or he could ask to speak to the tree again for help?
He needed something to fall back on if the ritual didn't go as planned.
Perhaps he could stall with unnecessary requirements from the alpha and his wolves to buy more time.
As much as he liked the idea of advancing and learning the process with it, he was still human.
Human enough to die.
**
Azael sat, scouting from his throne through Lumere and its outskirts.
Under moonlight, soldiers searched.
If they failed within the outer borders, their king would be forced to extend the hunt further—perhaps even into Fen's territory.
Wolves could have torn the sorcerer apart.
Devoured him.
Might there be proof of that?
Azael tilted his head slightly. It was dangerous to think carelessly.
He was prepared for war that might come with having Elana, but he wasn't prepared for damage on a historical scale—one that could bring him down before humans.
He straightened, leaning back with his eyes closed. Trisha's words were beginning to weigh on him.
His control was slipping.
It would only be a matter of time before disaster struck.
Azael opened his eyes.
His vision had shifted to one of his bats closest to the palace—closest to Elana.
He guided it further, counting windows slowly to locate her room.
"Evening tidings, my lord," Thorne's voice cut through the space.
Azael immediately dropped the connection and fixed his stare on the twins, more alert than receptive, having been caught off guard.
"Apologies for the intrusion," Evren said. "We thought you had seen us arrive."
Azael cursed internally, how could he have been that distracted?
"I assume you have news for me," Azael said, calmly.
"It's been confirmed that Fen's vermin may still be loose in Sirence," Thorne said.
"Still?" Azael asked.
"We found more than two in the outer regions," Evren replied. "But what we encountered suggests there are more than we can confirm."
Azael's gaze flickered briefly, back to the bat in Lumere—passing a window, catching, in its periphery, a blur of ginger hair and honeyed skin.
He redirected it back.
"Keeping opposing forces in your kingdom was never beneficial in the first place," Azael said. "You invite situations like this when there are gaps in control."
"I think there might be a need to interrogate Zane," Thorne added.
"I do not have the patience for that at the moment," Azael said. "You should have known your kingdom's weaknesses. What good is a fortress if it still has holes?"
Azael's impatience grew as he backtracked through the bell-shaped windows, trying to find the exact one.
"We accept our flaws, my lord," Evren said. "But the girl may need to be questioned beyond being a victim."
"Girl?" Azael repeated.
"Elana," Evren clarified. "I have strong reservations given that…"
Azael's gaze landed on Elana at last.
The bat hung upside down from the window rail, fixed in her room.
In a white robe, loose on her frame, with the neckline slipping from her shoulders.
The robe fell nearly to her arms, doing nothing to conceal the upper curves of her chest beneath as she held it in place, feeling her way along the wall, moving slowly and barefoot toward the bathroom.
"Given what, Evren?" Azael asked.
Evren hesitated. "Her background…people like her only tend to be desperate for these kinds of opportunities."
"Mind your words," Azael warned, his attention shifting back.
Evren immediately bowed his head.
"Our apologies, my lord," Thorne said. "We only suggest caution. She had firsthand exposure to the situation."
Azael leaned back into his throne, swallowing the anger Evren's insinuation had stirred.
"Some lycans have free will," he said. "Especially the mindful ones. Purge the kingdom if necessary. Test every household and use silver stamps if needed. You may not have to use it before a wolf reveals itself."
"Our gratitude," Thorne said with a brief bow. "Is there anything else you require from us?"
Azael's gaze returned to the bat at Elana's window.
She was almost at the door now, only her side visible as she reached for the door handle.
"I need five hundred men," Azael said. "They're to help my current search within these lands."
There was silence.
"I am not guaranteeing their safety," he added.
"They will be here before nightfall in the next two days," Evren replied.
Azael's gaze stayed on Elana as she reached the door and turned her back to his view, placing her hand on the handle and pulling.
The robe fell lower from her arms, down the tempting line of her spine to her lower back.
A wave of heat coursed through him, rushing straight to his groin as Elana turned slightly, looking over her shoulder, briefly revealing the bare swell of her chest before she lightly shrugged the robe back and pushed the bathroom door open.
"My minions will entertain you for the night," Azael said, still watching Elana close the bathroom door behind her. "I have pressing matters beyond the castle for now."
Azael could only think of getting Elana completely out of the robe she was in.
An unknown invitation she gave him.
One he could not turn down.
"Yes, my lord." Evren and Thorne chorused.
Then Azael vanished.