Nathaniel

Setting: Councilman Arnold's Office

Councilman Arnold looks... worn. I've never seen him like this. Not after hearings. Not after executions. And certainly not after we've successfully completed a mission. You'd expect some relief after saving a prince, especially one with so much riding on his survival.

Instead, Arnold rubs the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers, glasses dangling from the other hand like they've become too heavy to hold.

"Disguises. The demons are getting stronger," he mutters, more to himself than anyone. "They're evolving."

That word sits wrong in his mouth—evolving, like it offends the natural order. As if demons were mindless things we'd always been a step ahead of. As if the idea of them growing smarter, faster, more precise was inconceivable.

Then, without so much as a glance at me, he turns his full attention to her.

"What do you think?"

That stings. I'm sitting right here. I've never been more insulted in my life,I know his repugnant behavior shouldn't bother me as I never had any respect for them whatsoever. But somehow it does.

Maddona is unbothered. Her voice cool as snowmelt.

"They never evolved," she says. "Your Council was just too busy worshiping its own justice system to notice."

He blinks, frowns. "We would have noticed something as important as—"

"No, you wouldn't have," she cuts in, like a blade through fog. "While you buried yourselves in righteousness and rituals, they waited. Watched. Planned. You weren't prepared then, and you're certainly not prepared now. That's why you're out of options."

I've never witnessed a councilman being so helpless. It just makes me wonder more who she is and what she has over his head that he can't retaliate. Any other person would have met their end. No—they wouldn't even get the chance.

Arnold's lips purse, the subtle tremble in his fingers returning. "Then why did you bring a demon here, knowing how dangerous they are?"

"This one is harmless." Her response is dismissive.

"You think he's harmless. That doesn't mean he is. It's a safety risk—"

"Or maybe," Maddona interrupts, "you're just proving how old and slow you've become. The boy stays. Focus."

And just like that, her head turns in my direction, her voice quieter now.

"Prince Nathaniel. What did you notice?"

I blink, caught off guard. I wasn't expecting to be acknowledged—certainly not by her. How did she know I noticed something in the dungeon?

"As far as we know," I begin slowly, "the realms might already be flooded with spies. That's likely how they located the prince. Someone from this facility tipped them off. We found the dungeon cleared before we arrived, and that wasn't luck."

She nods faintly, and even Arnold leans in slightly, like my words finally matter.

"Until now, every attack targeted the same thing—the royal libraries. One room. Same method. But now, they're going after royal bloodlines. Every single one tied to Reganon. That's not random. They're looking for something—something important. And our only advantage is to find it first. Then root out whoever let them in."

Silence. Arnold's brow furrows deeper, clearly mulling over the implications. Like this hasn't been said to them before. They never cared enough to listen until now. Maddona just stares, expression unreadable.

I give her a look. The kind that usually makes people back down.

She smiles.

And to my horror... I almost return it.

Almost.

She tilts her head slightly, a flicker of amusement—or is it curiosity?—in her eyes. Impossible to tell with her.

I don't trust her. Not fully. Even if I know she's valuable—irreplaceable, even. She moves through secrets like they're air, speaks of things only the dead remember. She's dangerous... but she's ours.

And I hate that a small part of me finds her fascinating.

Arnold clears his throat, bringing me out of my reverie. "We'll proceed with your plan, Prince Nathaniel. If they're following a pattern, the next realm is definitely going to be Arithis—Phoenix Lays. The two of you will travel together, accompanied by a teammate of your choice. Someone subtle. Discreet. We can't risk attention."

The hallway outside the councilman's office is narrow, lit by fireflies in jars. No guards. Just insects humming in the dark, flickering yellow-gold.

She walks ahead of me, boots silent against the stone. I trail behind, close enough to speak, far enough to avoid aggravating my beast. Her scent is well hidden, but I catch a hint of something artificial. A mix of baccara and violet leaf.

" The council certainly picked the most powerful minds to do their dirty work. How long till they holds release..."

Is that a compliment or an Insult?

Its a well know fact that the council house basically control almost every other realm.

Centuries of favours and manipulation gave them that right.

"You still haven't told me your reason for being here," I say, trying to read her.

She doesn't turn.

"Couldn't sleep without thinking of me? I'm flattered, precious."

I scoff. Annoyed at the name.

Still no reaction from her. Just the taunting smiles, annoying smirks and comments and that strange aura around her.

"Who was that girl?" She asks suddenly.

"What?" Who's she talking about.

"The beautiful blonde with emerald eyes. The one seated with you at the warriors' meeting. Who is she to you?"

I pause, caught off guard again. "None of your business."

She stops walking, turns back. Not quite meeting my eyes—but I know she's staring. She never looks at people directly. Something I've noticed lately. Even behind those glasses she always wears.

"Is she your bond?" she asks.

"Yes. What do you want with her?"

Click. She makes a sound with her tongue and resumes walking, disinterested.

I follow, but slower.

"You really enjoy sucking the fun out of everything, don't you?" she says lightly. "Or maybe... it doubles the fun when you think you have control."

What does she mean by that?

Then, without missing a step.

"Nathaniel. Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

I blink. What?

The emotional whiplash nearly knocks the breath from me. Her ability to switch topics so quickly and confuse me at the same time is bewildering.

"I'm not here to amuse you."

"Maybe not. But you do anyway."

Is she insane? No, that would be too easy. Maddona isn't mad. She's too sharp. Too focused. But her unpredictability? That's calculated.

Maybe she wants me off balance. Maybe she just likes watching people squirm.

But one thing is becoming clearer the more time I spend with her. She's not just dangerous. She's cunning.

"Touchy subject? Ill get it out of you one way or another, I've got time."

She vanishes into the corridor without another word, shadow swallowing her in one smooth breath, leaving me alone with that thought.

By the moons, it's far too late for riddles and games.