The sun was barely visible on the horizon, but the courtyard already pulsed with heat and rage.
Velrith stood barefoot on the training grounds, her body still aching from the previous day's lesson, struggling to keep up with her father. Every breath drew fire into her lungs, but she didn't dare show pain.
Not in front of him.
Not again.
Demon King Vaelgor circled her like a predator—silent, patient, determined. His sword shimmered in the morning light, enchanted with crimson runes that flickered across its length like flames tasting the steel.
"Again."
Just one word. Cold and final.
"Don't treat the blade like an extension of your arm," he added flatly. "Make it part of your body. Like breath. Like thought."
Velrith gritted her teeth, raised her training sword, and lunged forward with every ounce of strength her young body could muster.
Steel clashed against steel. The sound rang through the courtyard like thunder. Her strike was strong—but not fluid. Not yet.
He deflected it with a simple flick of his wrist, stepped inside her guard, and slammed his elbow into her shoulder.
She hit the ground hard.
Rolled.
Bit back a cry.
Struggled to her feet, panting.
"You're still predictable," Vaelgor growled. "A warrior must be fluid. Unreadable. Start again."
She nodded. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she didn't fall.
She wouldn't fall.
She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
From the edge of the courtyard, another figure watched in silence.
Broad-shouldered and beast-blooded, his golden eyes glinted with quiet disdain as he leaned against a stone pillar, arms folded across his scarred chest. His bronze skin bore the map of countless battles, and his dark hair—tied in a loose tail—swayed gently in the breeze.
Kraves.
The King's beast-knight.
Feared even among the demon elite.
He was rumored to have hell-beast blood in his veins. A warrior who bowed not to crowns—but to power.
And now, he watched Velrith like a lion watching a cub pretending to roar.
"Your form is stiff," he called out, voice smooth and mocking. "If you were mine to train, I'd have broken that habit weeks ago."
Velrith's blade hesitated mid-air for just a moment.
Then she straightened.
"I'm not yours to train."
Kraves chuckled darkly.
"No. But perhaps I should be."
Vaelgor didn't flinch. He sheathed his sword and nodded once to the beast-knight.
"She needs sharpening."
"Or fire," Kraves replied. "Iron alone won't do."
Without another word, the Demon King walked past Velrith. His gaze lingered briefly on her bloodied knuckles.
"Rest. Reflexes won't improve on a broken body."
Velrith opened her mouth to protest.
But his look silenced her.
He was already gone.
[Velrith's POV]
I stood in silence, sword at my feet.
Looking at my palms as blood trickled from the reopened cut across them. My body throbbed. My bones ached.
But worse than the pain—was the shame.
I should be stronger by now.
I have to be.
There is no other way.
Kraves stepped into the clearing.
His eyes gleamed like a wolf who'd scented blood.
He was taller.
Bulkier.
Wilder.
Everything about him screamed violence barely held in check.
"Do you know why you keep failing?" he asked, stopping a few feet from me.
I said nothing. Just stared him down.
"Because you're still fighting to impress him," he said. "That's your weakness."
"You serve him," I snapped.
"No," Kraves corrected. "I respect power. Not sentiment. Vaelgor is strong. So I serve."
He stepped closer, circling me.
"You want to be queen, little flame?" His voice dropped. "Then stop begging with your blade."
"I'm not begging."
He smiled—a predator's grin.
"We'll see."
He turned away but paused at the courtyard's edge.
"I'll be watching."
That night, I sat in my private chamber, the flame of a single oil lamp flickering beside me.
Kraves's words echoed in my mind.
So did my mother's.
"You'll need power. Allies. Trust no one. Not even yourself—not until you master what lies beneath."
She wasn't there tonight.
She was likely with him. Tending to my father's cold fury in ways I didn't want to understand.
I ran my thumb over the fresh scar on my hand.
"Stop begging with your blade."
I hated Kraves for saying it.
I hated how deeply it echoed in my bones.
But what I hated more than anything—
Was that he might be right.
[Dreamscape – Velrith's POV]
I opened my eyes in a land that was not mine.
A field of ash and bone stretched endlessly before me.
Rotting corpses of humans. Demons. Beasts.
And in the center—a throne of skulls and shattered bones.
On it sat her.
A demoness of impossible power. Towering. Crimson-winged. Horns curved like crescent blades. Her body gleamed with armor fused to flesh, her talons tapping the armrest in amusement.
Her feet were not human—but hooved, clawed, and iron-split. Her tail like a dragon's whip, flicking lazily behind her.
She looked like something the gods had once tried to kill—and failed.
And she was smiling at me.
Her presence alone nearly crushed me to my knees.
But I didn't fall.
I would not kneel.
I raised my voice, small but steady.
"Who are you?""Where am I?"
She tilted her head, voice like thunder wrapped in silk.
"I am you.""The you you've denied. Buried. Feared.""I am the flame beneath your flesh."
I swallowed hard. "You're a monster."
She laughed—a sound that made the bones in the sky shiver.
"Perhaps.But I am yours.And one day, you will come to me.Not in fear… but in hunger."
I stepped forward, defiant.
"I don't want to become you."
She rose.
And the world burned around her.
"Then you will never rule."
She spread her wings wide.
And the dream shattered.
[Velrith's POV – Post-Dream, Night Stillness]
I woke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat—gasping, eyes wide, heart clawing against my ribs.
Her presence still clung to me.
Her voice.
Her words.
Her promise.
I could feel her power curling at the edges of my skin, like flame licking through my veins. She hadn't touched me—not really—but her will had pressed against mine.
And nearly won.
I sat up slowly, the room thick with silence.
But I wasn't alone.
Not really.
Her shadow lingered.
Not in corners or mirrors—but inside me.
Watching.
Waiting.
"Every time you weaken… I will rise."
I know she's right.
I know she'll come again.
She is everything this kingdom was forged from—raw, ruthless, relentless.
And if I let her through… she will burn down the balance my ancestors bled to build.
She would not rule with reason or council.
She would take.
She would claim.
She would crush.
I cannot let that happen.
I must be stronger.
I must learn to hold her in check.
Because if I don't… she won't just consume me.
She'll consume the crown.
But gods help me… there's a part of me that wants her back.
Wants to feel that strength again. That power. That certainty.
Maybe… maybe I don't need to silence her.
Maybe I need to learn to use her.
As a weapon.
As a queen.
I stood and walked to the mirror.
My reflection stared back at me—tired, bruised, burning beneath the skin.
"You're me," I whispered to the demoness still coiled in my chest."But you do not rule me."
Not yet.
But I saw it then—just for a moment—
A second face.
Smirking in the mirror.
And then it was gone.
Tomorrow, I return to the training grounds.
Not to impress my father.
Not to chase approval.
But to prepare for the war within.
Because one day, I will need her.
And when that day comes…
I'll be ready to embrace that fire.