NOVEL NEXT Chapter 10: A Shadow From The Past
As the days stretched on, the meetings with Azarath continued, a delicate dance of diplomacy laced with veiled threats. But something gnawed at Seraphina's mind—a growing certainty that Azarath's presence was more than just a political maneuver. There were moments, brief but telling, where the demon's façade slipped. He spoke of Zariel not as a superior, but as an equal in rank, and a confidant. Azarath's cryptic remarks intelligently disguised as sarcasm, were understood by the trio. Leor, Shania, and Seraphina, ever cautious and careful, paid close attention to everything.
Weeks later, while discussing the borders of demon territories, Azarath's crimson eyes flared with a flash of recognition, as if he knew something they did not know. Seraphina exchanged a glance with Shania, both of them coming to the same unsettling conclusion: Azarath knew more than he was letting them in on. He was part of a much larger game, one they were only beginning to understand. And whatever Zariel's true plan was, they were all caught in the middle of it.
Weeks morphed into months as the kingdoms of the human realm settled into an uneasy routine with Azarath as their ever-watchful guest. The negotiations, though punctuated by cautious moves and veiled threats, yielded some progress.
Trade routes for precious gems were tentatively established with heavily guarded caravans venturing into demon territory for the first time in generations, without the intent of war. Knowledge exchange, limited to scholarly delegations at first, fostered a grudging respect between both kinds for each other's histories and achievements.
Yet, beneath the surface of this fragile peace, a tension simmered. Azarath remained an enigma, his motives shrouded in ambiguity. Seraphina, despite their contentious interactions, found herself strangely drawn to him. It wasn’t an attraction in the traditional sense but a curiosity to know more about the demon who embodied everything her fellow humans feared. She couldn’t shake the moments—fleeting and unexpected—when a flicker of vulnerability crossed his fiery red eyes, offering a glimpse of the being beneath the demon lord’s imposing façade.
One sweltering afternoon, the group stood before the Council of rulers in the council chambers, discussing their progress and the allocation of resources. The room was grand, lined with ornate banners and high-arching windows that let in shafts of sunlight. Tension hung heavy in the air as a heated debate on the allocation of resources filled the room.
The guards opened the door and Azarath stormed in, slamming his fist on the table immediately. The force of it rattled the very foundations of the council chamber and drew all attention to him.
"Foolish mortals!" he roared, his voice reverberating with barely contained fury. "You bicker over resources while a storm approaches that could sweep your world away!"
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air like an omen. The council members, their eyes wide in shock, exchanged nervous glances.
Shania narrowed her gaze, her hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of her sword. "What threat do you speak of, Azarath?" She demanded, her voice steely.
Azarath’s gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on her, and then shifting to Seraphina, before settling on Leor. "Don't tell me you haven't heard the rumors," he said, his voice low and ominous. "The whispers of an ancient force that you and your little group faced once. A force you all so naively thought you had destroyed."
Leor furrowed his brow in concentration. "The Devourer," he said grimly. "The orb capable of consuming entire worlds—"
"We thought we had destroyed it," Shania finished the thought, her voice laced with surprise.
Azarath let out a humorless laugh. "Well of course not. The Devourer cannot be destroyed. It was forged from primordial chaos magic, and it hungers. It hungers for realms, for worlds to feast upon. And it's only a matter of time before it gets here."
A collective gasp swept the council of rulers. The revelation was like a punch to the gut, a chilling truth that shattered the fragile peace they had painstakingly built.
King Alric, the aging ruler of the Kingdom of Balior, rose first, his gray beard trembling as he spoke. "You mean to tell us," he began, his voice thin with disbelief, "that there's an artifact capable of consuming our world?" He questioned, his gaze darted between the trio and Azarath.
Azarath nodded and replied, "There is, and it's an orb—an orb that exists only to feed on worlds and everything in it."
Leor walked forward, but before he could utter a word, Seraphina stepped forward. "We faced the Devourer once," she explained, her voice steady despite the rising tension. "We thought we had destroyed it. Our magic was powerful enough to launch an effective assault on the orb but it seems it may have teleported just before we could destroy it."
Queen Kerra of the Kingdom of Yevean rose, her piercing brown eyes sharp with determination, leaned forward. "We understand, Seraphina. But, how long do we have until this Devourer gets to our world?" she demanded, her regal composure betraying a hint of fear.
Azarath, who had been watching in silence, interjected. "Not a long time."
Murmurs erupted among the council members. Some exchanged uneasy glances, while others, like King Lathan of the Kingdom of Wyanar, remained stoic, his calculating gaze meeting Azarath. "If what you say is true," he said, his voice like ice, "then we must find it and stop it before it destroys our worlds."
Seraphina turned, her gaze fixed on Azarath. In that moment, she saw a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. Yet beneath that danger, she sensed a strange kind of purpose. Azarath's words, though laced with menace, rang with truth. The Devourer was a threat to all realms.
Leor remained silent, his eyes shifting from its initial warm blue to molten gold. He knew they had fought the Devourer once, using a desperate combination of their powers. Now, with Azarath’s revelation, they needed to find it and stop it.
Shania stepped forward, her voice firm but questioning. "If the Devourer threatens us all, then why did your demons unleash it upon our world in the first place?" She asked, her eyes locking onto Azarath’s.
Azarath’s lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. "An intriguing question, little human," he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Perhaps you are unaware that my demons had only tried to contain it, not to unleash it upon your world. But you and your companions, in your righteous fury, destroyed the wards we set to imprison it, setting it free again."
A collective gasp rippled through the gathered council members.
Azarath's words hung in the air, casting a long shadow over the room.
"No human would've understood that. Demons and humans were at war for a long time, and it's normal for both sides to suspect each other. We must focus on the path ahead. We need to stop the Devourer." Leor replied, his voice firm.
The Council members nodded in agreement. The shared enemy now loomed over them all—an enemy that demanded unity between human and demon alike.
In that moment, amidst the looming dread of a common enemy, a grudging respect began to form. The fragile alliance between humans and demons, once marred by centuries of mistrust, now had a chance to grow stronger. For the first time, they were fighting for the same cause, bound together by the looming specter of the Devourer.
The path ahead would be perilous, but Seraphina, Shania, and Leor knew they had no choice but to walk it. Whether they liked it or not, Azarath’s warning had become their grim reality. The Devourer was coming, and together, they would have to face it.