Whispers of the Underworld

Evelyne followed Lyria down the vast corridors of the Demon King's fortress, her mind still reeling from her confrontation with Azrael. He had granted her access to the library without hesitation—why? She expected resistance, a battle of wills, but instead, he had simply… agreed.

That unsettled her.

She expected Azrael to be cruel, to revel in her suffering, but so far, he had been coldly pragmatic. Dangerous, yes—but not the mindless tyrant she had imagined.

"You're quiet," Lyria observed, glancing at her as they walked.

"I'm thinking," Evelyne replied.

Lyria smirked. "Careful with that. The Underworld has a way of turning thoughts into traps."

Evelyne frowned but said nothing.

The fortress was more alive than she expected. Demons of various forms moved through the halls—some humanoid, others monstrous, their glowing eyes flicking toward her with curiosity or skepticism. Whispers trailed behind her.

"The human queen…"

"Why did he bring one of them here?"

"She won't last."

Evelyne lifted her chin and ignored them. She had spent her whole life in court, surrounded by nobles who wielded words like daggers. She could handle the murmurs of demons.

The library was housed in one of the fortress's tallest towers. The moment Lyria pushed open the heavy doors, Evelyne's breath caught.

Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched to the ceiling, filled with tomes bound in leather, silk, and even metal. Strange symbols glowed on some of the spines, pulsing with quiet energy. The scent of parchment and ancient ink filled the air.

"This is…" Evelyne hesitated. "Unexpected."

Lyria arched a brow. "Did you think demons had no use for knowledge?"

"I thought demons only cared for war."

Lyria chuckled. "A war won with strength alone is a war easily lost. Azrael understands that better than anyone."

Evelyne turned away, scanning the bookshelves. "And what do you understand?"

Lyria's smile was sharp. "That you're not as afraid as you should be."

Evelyne didn't answer.

She approached one of the books, its cover inscribed with unfamiliar markings. The moment her fingers brushed the surface, a soft pulse of energy ran up her arm. She gasped and jerked her hand back.

Lyria laughed. "Careful. Some of these books are alive."

Evelyne scowled. "A warning would have been nice."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Shaking off the lingering sensation, Evelyne turned back to the shelves. If she was going to survive here, she needed to understand this world—its history, its magic, its ruler. And she would start now.

She reached for another book, determined.

Hours passed in a blur of parchment and whispered knowledge. Evelyne sat at a grand table, books spread before her, their pages revealing the history of the Underworld.

What she read unsettled her.

The war between humans and demons had lasted centuries, but it hadn't always been this way. There were times of uneasy alliances, of treaties made and broken. And at the center of it all—Azrael.

His rise to power had been ruthless, but not without reason. He had united the fractured demon clans, crushed rebellion, and built a kingdom that, for all its darkness, functioned like any other.

He was not just a warlord.

He was a ruler. A strategist. A man who bent chaos to his will.

A shiver ran down her spine.

"You look troubled," Lyria mused from across the table.

Evelyne shut the book. "Your king is not what I expected."

Lyria's violet eyes gleamed. "No, he isn't."

Before Evelyne could press further, the doors to the library swung open.

A demon soldier entered, his armor gleaming obsidian. He bowed his head. "The king has summoned the queen."

Evelyne tensed.

Lyria smirked. "Looks like your time is up."

Evelyne exhaled slowly, steadying herself. Whatever Azrael wanted, she would face him head-on.

Because she refused to be a pawn in this game.

She would find her place here.

One way or another.