In the Underworld, the air did not carry the scent of rain or lilies it reeked of sulfur and old blood.
The royal dining hall was a cavern of roughed stone, the walls etched with demonic symbols that pulsed with a rhythmic, malevolent violet light.
Malachi sat at the head of the hyalopsite table, his posture upright and imposing. His shoulders were back, his head held high, and his arms crossed over his chest in a display of absolute, bored confidence.
Across from him sat Lilith.
Lilith, the widow of the King Malachi had slaughtered, sat like a statue of spite. She had been gifted to the former King as a wife to atone for the "sin" of birthing a hybrid abomination for a celestial being.
To her, Malachi was not a king he was a constant, living reminder of the son she had lost and the throne that had been built on her misery.
"With how swiftly you killed your father to covet the throne, one would think you actually had plans for your people," Lilith said, her voice cutting through the sulfurous air.
Malachi remained quiet, his red eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind her head.
Lilith leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "Instead, you spend your days rotting away in the human realm, drowning yourself in their literature. You are no better than the lowly beasts, Malachi. Just a scavenger dressed in silk."
Malachi finally shifted, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his dark features. "Silence Whore"
Lilith's face contorted. "Need I remind you that your mother, the Empress Dowager, preferred killing herself over the burden of raising you?"
Malachi grinned "Interesting ,In the eyes of Mephisa you were Only worthy of becoming a royal cumrag"
The air in the room turned freezing. Lilith's hand folded into a white-knuckled fist, the hyalopsite table beneath her touch beginning to hairline fracture.
Malachi stood up slowly and walked away while Lilith screamed in rage, slamming her fist onto the table.
The massive slab collapsed, shattering into a thousand glass-sharp shards. Malachi didn't look back he simply turned and walked out, his mind already drifting toward a different realm.
At the Ruohan Residence, Zaliyah was engaged in a different kind of war.
He stood by his window, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
He was dressed to go out, his red robe pulled tight.
For the first time in his life, he was going to lie to Karas. The thought made his stomach churn Karas was his shield, his only friend, and the person who had always supported him.
But the thought of that lunatic demon holding his precious hairpin and the secrets he might uncover was a greater fear.
It's just for the pin, Zaliyah told himself as he slipped through the side servant's entrance, vanishing like a ghost.
The Library Pavilion was a masterpiece of human architecture stacks of parchment and leather-bound scrolls reaching toward a domed ceiling. It was silent, save for the flickering of a few low candles.
Zaliyah found him deep in the stacks, hidden behind a mountain of philosophy and classic romance novels.
Malachi was reclined in a velvet chair, looking entirely too comfortable as he flipped through a human book on the nature of the soul.
"You're late, Young Mistress," Malachi said without looking up.
Zaliyah rolled his eyes "Give it back, you perverted bum," Zaliyah snapped, his arrogance returning the moment he saw Malachi's smug face. "Why are you even here? Slumming in the human world, pretending you can understand literature that is far above your beastly nature?"
Malachi closed the book with a soft thud. He stood up, his height making the library feel suddenly very small.
He didn't hand over the pin. Instead, he began to pace around Zaliyah, trailing a finger along the spines of the books.
"Tell me, Zaliyah," Malachi mused. "In all these books you hide behind, how do they define an 'abomination'? Is it something that is born wrong, or something that simply doesn't belong in the cage it was given?".
Zaliyah matched his pace, his chin lifted. "An abomination is a creature that lacks the refinement to stay in its own realm. A creature that steals hairpins and haunts libraries like a common thief."
Malachi chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated in Zaliyah's chest. "You talk big for a boy who lives on charity. You sit in a mansion filled with wealth, yet you look more miserable than the beggars in the street. You have the finest education, the softest silk, and yet you are a fish gasping for air on dry land. Why is that?"
"I am a Ruohan," Zaliyah hissed, his purple eyes glowing. "My life is none of your concern, you homeless vagabond. You spend your nights in the dirt while I"
"While you dream of a world you don't even realize you belong to," Malachi finished. He stepped into Zaliyah's space, his red eyes boring into the purple ones.
He was surprised most humans would have fainted or fled, but Zaliyah's wit was a blade that refused to dull.
"You're sharp," Malachi whispered, his voice tinged with a newfound respect. "Arrogant, icy, and sharp."
Suddenly, Malachi reached into his pocket and tossed the golden lotus hairpin.
Zaliyah caught it out of the air, his fingers clenching around the metal with a sigh of relief.
"You got what you wanted," Malachi said, turning his back as if Zaliyah were no longer worth his time.
Zaliyah turned to leave, his heart still racing from the verbal sparring. He had reached the doorway when Malachi's voice stopped him no longer playful, but heavy with a cryptic weight.
"Don't get too comfortable in those silk robes, Zaliyah," Malachi predicted, his voice echoing in the silent hall. "You're changing. I can smell it on you. The human realm is a shallow pond, and you're growing too big for it. Your true nature is calling, and very soon, no amount of literature will be able to drown out the sound."
Zaliyah didn't look back. He ran. He ran all the way home, the golden pin biting into his palm, Malachi's words haunting him more than the dark.