Malakar swallowed hard; he was waiting for the response, but in the pit of his stomach, a creeping realization began to form.
His eyes fixated on the cold stone floor as the eerie silence stretched between them. His breath hitched slightly as he awaited the words of his Lord.
"You’re not supposed to be here, Malakar," Xalor said quietly, his tone calm, almost devoid of any emotion.
Malakar clenched his fists at his sides, unsure how to respond, his thoughts constantly battling the conflicting emotions that roared within him. His mind raced with questions, but he couldn’t speak, not yet. He needed to compose himself and understand the situation first.
"You couldn’t sense , could you?" Xalor continued, his voice cutting through Malakar’s turmoil. "That look of bewildernt... It’s not the reaction I expected from you."
"My Lord..." Malakar’s voice was low, strained with disbelief. "Forgive , I didn’t... I didn’t recognize you. Your presence—it’s—"
"Different," Xalor finished for him, and Malakar flinched at the word.
"Yes," Malakar admitted, his voice hoarse. "Sothing has changed in you. I don’t understand."
Xalor chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down Malakar’s spine. "Whether sothing has changed in or it’s you who has beco incapable of recognizing ," he said, his voice carrying a strange, amused tone.
Malakar finally looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Human?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You... you’ve taken on a human form?"
Xalor smiled—a calm, almost haunting smile. "Surprising, isn’t it?"
Malakar’s mind reeled. This couldn’t be real. His sovereign, his friend for eternity and the supre ruler of demons, had chosen to adopt a form so lowly, so fragile? His entire being scread in protest.
"But why, Xalor?" Malakar asked, unable to contain the confusion in his voice. "Why would you choose to be... one of them?"
Xalor’s gaze grew sharper, more focused. "I didn’t choose this, Malakar. The curse is still bound to ."
Malakar swallowed hard, trying to process the words. He knew very well about the curse but never thought after so much ti that damn curse was still following Xalor.
Malakar voiced out his thoughts again, "And what does that an for us? For the Demon Realm? Have you abandoned us?"
Xalor’s eyes flashed dangerously, and for a mont, Malakar caught a glimpse of the raw power he knew so well. "Abandoned you? Never." The edge in his voice sent a jolt of fear through Malakar. "But the old ways no longer serve us. We need to evolve, or we will fade into nothing."
Malakar bowed his head again, the weight of Xalor’s words pressing down on him. "I... I see," he muttered, though in truth, he still couldn’t fully comprehend it. Xalor, taking on a human form? It went against everything he had known, everything he believed in.
"What about the girl?" Xalor suddenly asked, his voice softer now, as if reading Malakar’s thoughts.
Malakar’s breath caught in his throat. "The girl, Xalor?" he echoed.
Xalor nodded, his eyes narrowing. "The one you were so fixated on just monts ago. I could sense your emotions from afar. She looks familiar, doesn’t she?"
Malakar’s pulse quickened, and he lowered his gaze once more. "Yes, she looks like soone from my past. A witch. But this girl, she’s human. I was trying to confirm if—"
"Do not act rashly," Xalor interrupted, his tone warning. "If she is connected to your past, we will learn the truth in ti. But for now, you must be careful. And don’t approach her unnecessarily."
Malakar nodded, swallowing the urge to ask more. He wanted to ask why he was being told to stay away from her. Did Xalor begin to consider them as family? But he didn’t voice his thoughts, fearing the consequences of questioning too much. He knew very well how Xalor never spoke more than required.
You should go back to your quarters, Malakar. Xalor ordered him.
Malakar wants to continue asking him about what happened with the prince Dorian and him and how he could find him again.
But he shut his mouth when he looked at the serious look of Xalor and decided to ask him next ti.
And with a swift move, Malakar disappeared from the hallways, leaving only a faint, dark smoke behind.
Xalor’s gaze fell on the dissipating smoke that lingered in the cold air, and he waved his hand dismissively. "Still an immature demon," he muttered, his voice carrying a hint of disdain.
But his focus quickly shifted as he sensed a new presence approaching. His eyes flared a nacing red, and his demonic power surged like a storm ready to break. A fierce, uncontainable rage boiled within him, tightening his grip on the situation with terrifying intensity.
In the blink of an eye, Xalor vanished from where he stood, reappearing directly in front of the newcor. With swift, ruthless precision, he pinned the newcor against the wall, his hand clenching the fragile neck with a force that was both crushing and cruel.
"W... Why?" Xalor’s voice, raw and desperate, cut through the tense silence. The word was almost a plea, a struggle against the storm of his own emotions.
He lifted the trembling figure, his eyes locking onto the newcor’s. The newcor’s pale blue eyes were wide with terror, glistening with unshed tears that shimred like distant stars.
Xalor’s expression was a turbulent sea of fury and tornt, his past mories and deep-seated anger rging into a tempest of feelings. He wanted to extinguish those eyes forever and rid himself of the haunting reminder of the past.
Yet he was paralyzed by a deep sense of helplessness—Xalor felt really useless when he couldn’t muster the courage to apply even a little pressure so the frail neck would break like a twig in his hands. He wanted to end this very life, but he is powerless to do so.
He know this ti will surely co but this soon, he had never expected it and he was not ready for....
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