He swallowed hard, wanting to morize every detail, the warmth of the chair beneath him, the sll of fresh bread, the sound of Alina humming softly as she buttered a slice for him. Don’t forget, he told himself. Don’t forget this, because maybe you’ll never get it again. His little heart trembled at the mory of the whispers he’d overheard at Nightshade Court: that he would grow up alone, that his fate was only to beco a shadow demon, to fight and fight until there was nothing left.
But he wanted to make new friends and learn many things.
He thought.
It was already afternoon, and Alina decided to put an educational story video on her laptop and let them watch while she went to do laundry.
The video played softly in the background, bright colors flashing across the screen. Sable sat curled on the rug, his knees hugged to his chest, but his eyes weren’t following the story at all. His little face carried that quiet sadness he tried so hard to hide.
However, Lucien noticed his mood right away. He turned from the screen and frowned. "Why are you sad?" he asked, tilting his head.
"... no, I am not saad," Sable stamred quickly, shaking his head, his ssy hair bouncing. He even forced a smile, but it looked fragile.
"Don’t lie to . I saw," Lucien said firmly, his crimson eyes narrowing.
Sable blinked fast, his shadows curling faintly at his feet. His throat tightened. He rubbed his eyes and whispered, "I am sad because I don’t want to go back to Nightshade shelter. I feel alone there." His little hands folded together like he was making a wish. "I wish I could stay with Teacher and Principal and all my friends all the ti..."
Lucien’s frown softened. "You don’t like it there?" he asked gently.
Sable shook his head, his horns peeking as his hair fell forward. "No."
Lucien leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing an important secret. "If you really don’t like it, you should tell Dad. Maybe he will try sothing."
Sable’s eyes lit up. "Really?"
Lucien nodded with certainty. "Yes. Dad is soft. He will listen to everything you say."
Sable’s mouth parted in wonder. No one had ever told him that his voice mattered, that an adult might care what he wanted. His small hands trembled, but then he smiled shyly. "Maybe... maybe I’ll tell him," he whispered, hope blooming in his chest.
"Not maybe, you need to!! Because if you don’t speak you will always be stuck, which is not great!" Lucien said with fierce little determination.
Sable blinked, eyes wide, the tiny hope inside him growing steadier.
He hugged his knees tighter for a second, then slowly nodded. "O-okay," he whispered, voice barely louder than the rustle of the laptop. "I will tell... I will tell him."
Lucien’s face lit up like soone who had just handed another person a lantern in the dark. "Good! I’ll co with you. I’ll tell him too. He will listen to both of us." He reached out and squeezed Sable’s hand, a warm, sure little squeeze that said, I’m with you.
*•*
"Elder Hellthorn was banished from Nightshade Court from now! I do respect elders, but when so cross the line, as Shadow Lord I have permission to punish those who need it," Dante’s voice rolled like thunder, sharp and rciless.
Hellthorn’s face twisted, his ruined skin pale and blistered, breath rattling. "Although it is my doom, my words were correct! One day, you will all see the truth!!" he hissed through clenched teeth, before wincing from the pain.
Dante’s crimson gaze cut into him. "Even if the world itself crumbled, I would never accept your twisted suggestion. Children are the future, untouched, unbroken, sacred. And you..." his lips curled in a cold smile, "are a relic who should have stepped down long ago." His tone deepened. "If you cannot hold the seat of court, then retire. From this mont, I am calling a vote for your replacent."
Hellthorn’s eyes widened. "You cannot strip so easily! I bled for this court! I stood in every war! You cannot discard like dust!" he spat, his voice trembling with fury.
"You think sacrifice makes you untouchable?" Dante’s voice cracked like a whip, shaking the torches along the walls. "We all bled. We all fought. You are not the only one. But power is for the worthy, not the selfish. And you... are neither."
The disgraced elder flinched back, his pride warring with his fear. Dante leaned forward, his voice dropping into a lethal growl. "Leave now, before I show you what true disrespect feels like."
Hellthorn stumbled out, rage twisting his face, but the shadow of fear followed him like a chain.
Dante’s gaze swept the chamber. "Does anyone else object?"
The hall went deathly silent. Not a whisper rose.
"Good," Dante muttered, sinking into his chair, his presence suffocating.
Then an elder cleared his throat. "My lord... forgive . But I believe it is ti you settle down. Nightshade needs a queen. A ruler to stand beside you."
Dante’s lips curved faintly, cold as steel. "I thought I was already enough." Yet Alina’s face flickered through his thoughts like a fla he couldn’t extinguish.
"You are enough, my lord," another pressed carefully, "but your son... even he may long for a mother."
For a fleeting mont, Dante’s jaw tightened. Lucien’s small face flashed in his mind, and he said nothing.
"If you wish, we have already selected candidates," one dared to add, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
The doors opened.
A tall demoness strode in, horns polished to a sheen, her curves flaunted by silks that left little to the imagination. Her violet eyes glimred with ambition, locking on Dante as though she had already conquered him.
"Lord Dante," she purred, bowing just enough to draw every eye to her form. "Nightshade Court deserves a queen. And I am here to take that place."
Whispers spread across the court like wildfire. So elders nodded, impressed.
But Dante did not move. He remained seated, his expression unreadable, crimson eyes watching her with cold detachnt.
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