"What the hell?!" I muttered, my eyes widening as I stared at the Prince of Desires in disbelief. "This... this is the Loom of Fate! How can you even perceive it?"
Asmodeus tilted his head, his smirk caught sowhere between entertained and intrigued.
"You are such a fascinating little creature, you know that?" he drawled, studying like I was just a peculiar insect he had caught. "You have no knowledge of your own Mark, you have no understanding of the gods, you are blind to the truth of this world... yet sohow, you know about the Loom of Fate?"
My throat went dry.
Of course I knew about it.
The Loom of Fate was a web of ethereal threads stretching across existence, binding every life, every death, every choice into a grand tapestry from which no one could escape.
...Or so Lily claid in the ga.
She had been the first main character to be able to perceive fate by borrowing the gaze of a goddess.
It was no small feat. Because mortals weren’t ant to even comprehend fate’s existence, let alone its workings.
But she had.
She had actually seen fate.
And that sa feat was later followed by Michael at the very end of the ga, when he found a way to trap the Spirit King with himself in the Void.
Aside from Lily and Michael, only two other characters ever glimpsed fate in the story’s entirety.
The first was one of the Naless Lord of the Syndicate — a powerful oracle who had the ability to twist probability itself.
The second was the Eighth Demon Prince, Vaeghar the Moon Eater.
But Asmodeus? He was not supposed to be one of them!
"Impossible..." I whispered, though the word sounded hollow even to my own ears. "Your domain is desire, not fate!"
And yet, here he was — perceiving the Loom.
And it was definitely the Loom. I was certain.
Although there were only two threads here — one mine and one his, both twisted together in a knot.
But if he could see this much... then he could damn well see the rest of fate too.
Asmodeus chuckled like I had said sothing both dumb and funny. "You’re right. I possess no authority over fate. Not as my brother Vaeghar does. But I’ve learned a few tricks from him. In fact, we all learn from one another. Desire, wrath, rot, fate... we’re not bound solely by our domains. We study. We steal. We take what we want."
My heartbeat thundered in my chest like a war drum. "That’s... that’s not possible. The Moon Eater’s dominion is absolute. His was a power stolen from the gods themselves. You can’t just—"
"Oh, please." Asmodeus cut off with a lazy wave of his hand, as though brushing away a tedious lecture. "Do you think Vaeghar kept his secrets locked away or sothing? Do you think the Princes play fair with one another? If soone has sothing worth taking, we take it. If they hoard knowledge, we pry it from their dead fingers — or their living minds."
He leaned closer. "I’ll let you in on a secret. Desire and fate aren’t so different. Desire creates fate. Every thread is spun from a want. A yearning. A man’s path winds because he chases. A woman’s end cos because she covets."
His voice dropped lower. "And I’ll tell you another secret. That’s how the Spirit King creates us — his children, his generals, his demons. Each one of us is forged stronger than the last. Every new Prince is a refinent. Every one of us is a more perfected version of the one who ca before."
I knew what he ant, though I had never given it much thought until now.
Asmodeus continued, sounding almost conspiratorial, "The Spirit King does not repeat, you see. He corrects. His first Prince was little more than a beast, driven by instinct and nothing more. The second had cunning, but no will. The third had will, but no subtlety. And so it went, mistake after mistake, each flaw corrected in the next creation. That is why our powers are not only correlated... they are improvents."
"...Improvents toward what?" I asked hesitantly.
Because this was a chain. If every Demon Prince’s power was an improvent over that of their predecessor... then where was this leading?
What was the Spirit King’s end goal?
I had a guess.
And I didn’t like it.
"Toward what our King truly desires," he whispered with a grin that chilled .
I swallowed hard. "The Queen of Black Rot."
Asmodeus’ smirk widened instantly at my response. "Exactly, Little Puppet. Exactly."
"Wait. Then does that an the Sixth Demon Prince could—" I didn’t get to finish.
Because Asmodeus blurred forward and pressed a lanky finger lightly against my lips to silence .
"Your two questions are long since over," he said softly, but the sharpness in his tone was more threatening than he probably intended.
I clenched my fists and instinctively stepped back.
But he was already behind . His hand fell onto my shoulder and his grin spread as if he was savoring the sight of my unease.
"You are entering my dreams because our fates are linked. That’s the phenonon pulling you to . There’s your answer," he murmured. "Now, it is my turn to ask."
He then raised a finger and pointed toward where his fate thread and mine were tangled in a knot.
"My question is simple." His voice slithered into my ear. "Why are our fates linked?"
His breath ghosted across my skin — cold and chilling, yet it crawled like fire down my spine.
"And don’t lie," he warned, this ti sounding every bit as threatening as the monster he was. "I hate liars. Even though I cannot harm you here... if I believe you’ve spoken falsehood, I will find a way to hurt you. And I will make you regret it."
My mind raced in a desperate attempt to co up with an answer.
Because I sure as hell couldn’t just tell him the truth.
I forced a deep breath to calm myself... which did nothing to calm .
My heart still thundered nonstop. My breath still ca in ragged bursts. And I was one step away from a full-blown panic when an idea hit .
I couldn’t tell him the truth. The full truth, at least. But maybe I could give him enough.
"Answer !" Asmodeus snarled, his tone not smooth as silk anymore but sharp like a blade pressed to my throat.
My instincts scread at to speak before he lost his patience.
So I did. "I was the one originally ant to find your Summoning Card."
And for a few monts that followed, there was nothing but silence.
Then, after a while, Asmodeus stepped away and circled to stand in front of . "Excuse , what?"
Gone was the nacing tone.
Gone was the dreadful aura.
Right now, he sounded more like a five-year-old dumbfounded child who had just been asked to explain quantum chanics.
I shrugged helplessly. "It wasn’t Jake. I was the one fated to find your Summoning Card. I was the one fated to start the massacre at the Night Sanctuary. And I was the one fated to... die at the end of it."
The Prince of Desires simply kept staring. His crimson eyes, usually brimming with mischief, now looked... uncertain.
And then he exclaid, "Huh?! Wait, if that’s true, then how do you even know this? Are you actually saying you... changed fate sohow?"
I sighed, then locked gazes with him. "Your one question is over."
And for the first ti since I had seen him, Asmodeus didn’t have a retort ready.
His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to scream or laugh or just tear apart.
But eventually, his grin returned. This ti it wasn’t smug. It was... hungry.
"Ohhh, you are delightful. You’re so very delightful!" he purred, though the edges of his voice quivered with sothing darker. "Do you realize what you’ve just confessed, Little Puppet? Because if you speak the truth, then you’re not simply a mortal. You’re a mistake."
My stomach dropped.
Asmodeus started stepping back into the darkness, slowly disappearing out of view. "And the gods hate mistakes."
The crimson glimr of his eyes was the last fragnts of him visible before he completely faded away.
By now, only his voice carried, "But ? Oh... I think I like you even more now. Which ans you and I will be spending a great deal of ti together."
My breath quickened. Cold sweat beaded across my forehead. And for the first ti in a long ti, I felt sothing dangerously close to fear for so unknown reason.
Then, out of nowhere, sothing monstrous lunged at from the dark.
I flinched—
And woke up screaming in the earthen bed I had made.
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