A City of Shadowlight

An invitation arrived not with a knock, but with a smoke curling through the air.

Elyria found a letter resting on her chambers window, its edges scorched, the parchment felt strange in her hands. The seal, a glistening black wax still warm to the touch, she broke it.

Inside: only a line.

"If you're going to hate this kingdom, you might as well see it first. Dawn. Wear something practical. The map will guide you—K"

No formalities. No titles. Just that arrogant scrawl that felt like a dare.

It had a map, which seem to have a moving pointer.

It wasn't a request. It never was with Kaelith.

She debated burning it. Or ignoring it. But the part of her that had seen him defend her at court whispered something else.

Her gown was silk, long and black. Far too fragile for "practical." She discarded it in favor of black trousers, boots, and a tunic lined in subtle golden thread. Her fingers hesitated over her dagger before she slid it into her boot.

She wasn't afraid. But caution had never failed her.

When she stepped outside, the sky was glowing in deepening violet. It was beautiful, the kind of beauty that made her breath catch whether she wanted it to or not.

By the time she reached the Spire, it felt different. It was windy now, with narrow banners hanging from towers.

And there he was.

Kaelith stood waiting on the upper terrace, his back turned.

He wore no crown. No armor. Just his leather stretching over his form like a second skin, his hair loose and ran wild with the wind.

"You came," he said, not turning.

"You didn't give me a choice."

"That's not true." He glanced back. "You had several. You chose the most interesting one."

"I chose the least stupid."

"Same thing."

He smiled. Not the cruel one she'd come to expect, this was something quieter. Almost fond.

"Come." He gestured "If I'm going to ruin your life, the least I can do is show you the view."

They walked in silence along the outer ring of the Spire. Elyria tried not to show her awe. But Nox. Nox was breathtaking. Cities felt different, at least this one did. Floating platforms moved along gravity defying currents. Creatures danced on balconies.

Nox wasn't just a city. It was a human's fever dream, terrible and magnificent.

"It's alive," she said, before thinking.

"Yes," Kaelith said. "it's alive."

He led her toward a high, curved bridge that stretched far above the city. Elyria froze at the edge.

She stopped just short of stepping on it.

"What is this?"

"We call it the Breathing Bridge," he said. "Built on the spine of a sleeping wyrm. It moves."

"That's…" She glanced down. "Comforting."

He grinned. "Don't fall."

"I hate you."

He stepped onto the bridge with ease. She followed, slower, wary of every shift beneath her boots.

Kaelith chuckled as she cursed under her breath. They walked, and beneath them, Nox unfolded, market lit with soulflame, demon nobles in silver threaded cloaks laughing around floating fire chalices, music rising from strings she couldn't see.

"This isn't what I expected," Elyria murmured.

"What did you expect?"

"Hellfire. Screaming. Blood and chains."

Kaelith tilted his head. "Give it time."

She shot him a glare. He returned it with a slow grin. "You're still looking for reasons to hate me."

"I don't have to look far."

"Then look deeper."

"Okay, poet."

They stopped midway across the bridge. Wind blowing their hair. For a while, he just stood beside her, watching the city.

"Do you know why I brought you here?" he asked.

"To impress me?"

With a smirk. "If I wanted to impress you, I would have taken you to my chambers."

"Tempting."

Kaelith stopped at the center of the bridge. "I brought you here because you need to understand. Nox isn't fire and torment. It's a kingdom on the edge of forgetting itself. Everything you see here has been clawed back from ruin. We are what survives."

She stared at him. "And you think that justifies everything? The deaths? The things your people did in your name?"

His expression didn't change. "No. But I think it explains them."

Silence stretched between them.

Then the bridge swayed again. Elyria stumbled.

Kaelith caught her. His fingers holding her waist. Firm, possessive, far too warm.

"Careful," he murmured, not letting go.

"I'm fine," she snapped, but didn't move from his grip either.

She should have pulled away. But her heart was pounding in her chest, and his touch burned through the thin layers of fabric between them.

His gaze dipped to her lips.

"You know, i can't decide," she whispered, "if you're trying to seduce me or kill me."

Kaelith's voice dropped low. "Who says I can't do both?"

Their faces were close. Too close. The sky shining like a fever dream behind him. His grip had not loosened.

For a heartbeat—just one—she leaned in.

Then she pulled away, sharply.

"Don't get cocky, Demon Prince."

"Too late," he said, smile curling.