All that was left, It said into Damien’s mind, and It needn’t go on—Damien knew he meant from The Expulsion.
Fog fell over the glass of the case as he breathed on it, and then he saw his own reflection. Xander had been right—he really wasnotlooking good. His skin had gone grey, his veins blue, and his irises dark. The gnawing at his insides persisted, a hot, sharp grating against his organs that the noxscura was constantly responding to and quelling before the pain flared up again.
Don’t worry about that.
“Well, I really expected a dungeon set about eight stories below ground, but this isn’t too bad.” Xander sauntered in, running fingers over everything like he already owned it, and then he let out a squeal of delight. “Mother!”
The blood mage skipped to one side of the room where there stood a crystal twice as tall as he. Deeply sapphire, within stood the shadow of a being even darker than the rest.
Damien scanned the chamber, similar crystals set against the walls, and then found a crimson one. Damien brought himself to it so that Zagadoth the Tempestuous, Ninth Lord of the Infernal Darkness and Abyssal Tyrant of the Sanguine Throne could loom over him. He held up the shard, the color matching, and pressed it to a divot just on the crystal’s edge. It sealed itself in, and he expected some sort of reaction, but there was nothing. Perhaps that was better for now.
“Did you say the Grand Order is coming?” The room was a wide one, so when Damien glanced over his shoulder, he had to look past Archibald still standing in its middle, a smallcontingency of infernal gator-bears at his back, snuffling and dripping acidic saliva on the pristine carpets. Pippa had made her way into a corner to stand awkwardly, eyes unblinking, terrified.
“Oh, probably,” Xander lilted, hands clasped under his chin as he turned. “They weren’t too keen on this happening,”—he twirled a finger in Damien’s general direction—“but I think they had the same idea as you, not wanting to let it out and wreck the whole world or whatever. You might be able to convince them to not kill you? Then again, they might want to keep this thing around: they’re always changing their minds, and now they have a tie-breaking number of council members, so who knows?”
“It cannot be left alive.” Archibald was apparently still brave, even surrounded by evil.
“How did you intend to kill It?” Damien cocked his head.
He doesn’t know, It hissed.
“As if I would reveal your own downfall to you.”
Damien rolled his eyes.
“What exactly was the plan, Archie.” Xander sauntered over to the king and got right in his face. “You summon the same entity that supposedly brought about The Expulsion, stick it in my friend over there, and then what?”
Friend?It scoffed.Kill him.
Archibald’s eyes shifted from one to the other, but his mouth didn’t move.
Xander swore and gripped the king by the front of his coat. Arcana crackled through his hand, aiding in how he dragged the larger man across the room to a seat at the edge of the dragon’s mouth. He slammed him down so hard, Damien thought the chair would shatter beneath him. “Spit it the fuck out, Archie,” he growled, and shadows coalesced around the man’s body, beginning to squeeze.
“It was only meant to be a show!” he sputtered. “The OneTrue Darkness was to be controlled. That mage, Gilead, he swore to do it, to enthrall the entity so that it would only destroy the slums and a few market streets, and then it would be put down. The people, they would be…be happy, grateful, and their trust in the crown and its protection of them would be renewed.”
Xander backed off, straightening, white brows raising. “You mean, you orchestrated all this and were willing to sacrifice your own people to reinvigorate their love of…you?”
The squeeze around him lessened, his eyes darting to the shadows across his chest and then up to the gator-bears that stalked toward him. “Not all of the realm’s people, only some of the offensive places, the places that gave us trouble. I would never have allowed The One True Darkness to threaten the other nobles’ estates or the keep or-or…or myfamily.”
“Wow.” Xander grinned, leaning up against one of the dragon’s fangs. “Now, that truly is evil.”
“Protecting my son isn’t evil,” he spat back.
“Oh, not that part, you asshole.” Xander laughed as a shadow of arcana slapped the king across the face. “All the rest of it, though. I must say, I’mimpressed.”
The king sneered, clearly disagreeing, but turned to look at Damien, still on the far side of the room. “You cannot release It. The mage said It could only be controlled when It was inside a vessel.”
That fool knows nothing. We must meld.
“Considering how demented that plan of yours was, releasing a couple of demons you’ve got trapped in here should be easy.” Xander leaned there laxly, head hanging back. “So, go on, start drawing up the ritual. We’ve got some time, but who knows how long Bloodthorne’s got until he, uh, releases the thing you’re suddenly so worried about.”
Archibald’s knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of his seat. “I’m not releasing any demons.”
“What?” Xander snapped back up to rigid attention. “You’ve suddenly developed morals?”
Eiren’s king stared hollowly past the gator-bears, face creased into solemnity. “I will not be remembered for taking down the greatest evil in existence, the evil that required godly intervention when last it walked the scourged earth, but I still have my legacy of ensnaring the last demon lords. I will not sully that. Kill me if you must, but I will be remembered as a good king.” Stalwart, his eyes seemed to be staring at the destiny he expected, the one he was willing to die for.
“Oh, this is bloody ridiculous.” Xander pinched the bridge of his nose then he snarled. “That’s it, I’m taking something.” The shadows twisted, lifting Archibald’s arm and weaving itself between his fingers, spreading them. Another shadow shattered a glass box, and Xander retrieved the blade that had been contained within, striking out without a second thought.
