Remodeling

Kael’s instincts screamed at him the moment Elisa pulled out the rope. "Honey, love of my life… what in the eight hells are you doing?"

Elisa looped the rope around his wrists with practiced ease. "Do you trust me?"

"Implicitly."

"Then let’s mount Steed and get going."

Kael eyed the growing knots. "Oh, biscuits and crackers…"

\\

"This really is a completely unnecessary emasculation of my character—"

"Good. I’ll make sure it’s extra tight then."

ZIP!!

"Yow…”

"Oh, stop whining. You’ll live."

He should have been annoyed, but…

His fingers flexed, breath a little deeper than it needed to be. Something about the pull of the rope, the way it bound him just right, sent a shiver down his back that had nothing to do with discomfort.

Elisa caught the flicker of something in his expression, brow arching.

"...Kael?"

He cleared his throat, schooling his features back into something resembling his usual self.

\\

Landfall was smooth. The reception was not.

Cynthia hadn’t been exaggerating—her village felt like it had been carved out of the land and left untouched, severed from anything remotely influenced by demonkin rule. Not out of ignorance, but defiance. As if acknowledging their presence would somehow unravel their own identity.

And judging by the sheer number of opinions being thrown around, these people weren’t stupid. Just uneducated, stubborn, and entirely too enthusiastic about their distrust.

It was a beautiful day. Sun shining, breeze just right. Too nice, really, for people to be swaying and jabbing all manner of pointy metal things in their direction.

“Can we please talk?!” Elisa pleaded.

"You captured a demon!! And you brought it here?! Are you insane? How is this not an appropriate reaction for someone trying to kill us?"

“Not just any demon…” Kael pouted.

The village chief was right to be angry. One of their own who interloped with the demons resulted in their entire family destroyed without the demons having to lift a finger.

"He won’t bite, I swear it."

Kael smirked behind her. "Yet. I’m tempted though—mmph!!"

Elisa shoved a cloth into his mouth, cutting him off mid-taunt. "Shut." She pushed it in further. "Up."

A murmur of disgust rippled through the crowd, but it wasn’t for Kael.

"But your own people, Lady Blac’hil?" A man near the front shook his head. "How could you sell us out? Was it how good demonkin food tasted? What value did they bring into your life that was worth ratting us out?"

Elisa held his gaze, steady. "I married Blac’hil as part of a deal—to prevent further demonkin enclosure on Highcliff land. Had I not, they would have made the very Highcliff you know unrecognizable."

A scoff from the back. Then a woman’s voice, loud and scathing:

"It’s already unrecognizable! Can’t go outside the village without another one of those imp creatures frolicking about like they own the place! It is sickening how they make themselves so comfortable in our home!"

The murmurs swelled into outright agreement—angry voices, years of frustration bubbling over.

She needed to make sure her next words counted.

"You think I don’t see it? That I don’t know how much has changed?" Her voice cut clean through the noise, sharp enough to make a few villagers falter. "I know what’s been taken from you. I know what’s been forced on you. And I won’t insult you by pretending things will go back to how they were. They won’t."

The murmurs grew quieter, but they were still watching her, waiting for her to fail.

She took a step forward. "What’s done is done. Justice should come, and I won’t stand here and tell you it shouldn’t. But justice means nothing if we don’t live long enough to see it. And right now? The forces at play are bigger than us—bigger than this village, bigger than Highcliff."

She turned, nodding toward Kael, who—despite being bound—had the audacity and the capacity to look offended somehow.

"This is Kael Blac’hil. Demon. Ruler. The very thing you were told to hate. And yet, here he is, tied up like a criminal, standing in a village that would see him dead if given the chance."

A beat.

"Believe it or not, at any moment, he could’ve untied himself from his bindings by now. If not metamorphism, then through fire magic. If demons were truly the monsters you say they are—if he was the monster you believe him to be—then why do you think he’s still here? "

Silence.

"Because despite everything, despite the war, despite you wanting nothing more than to see him suffer, he still wants nothing but the future of Highcliff as a prosperous land secured."

She exhaled.

"I brought him here to prove a point. To show you that not all demonkin are here to conquer, and not all of them hate you for opposing them. You don’t have to trust him. You don’t even have to like him. But before you cast your judgment, before you decide that this is another battle to fight—at least see it for what it is."

She looked over the crowd, at the rage barely tempered by reason. "You are alive. You are still standing. And that is because there are bigger threats in this world than the enemy you know."

A pause.

"You don’t have to believe in him. But you should start believing in survival."

Elisa took a slow breath, then raised her voice so all could hear if they couldn’t before.

“I am going to cut his bindings now.”

“Oi…” “Come on…” “What the hells?”

Murmurs turned to sharp whispers, a few hands tightening around weapons. The village chief looked ready to explode.

She promptly yanked the cloth from his mouth.

Any other man would have had the breath of a depraved wretch—stale, foul, something rotten in the back of his throat. But Kael didn’t do things halfway.

Instead, it was hot, wet, smothering the space between them like an embrace she hadn’t invited. Like something alive.

His red eyes gleamed, predatory and… pleased?

“I’m not done yet, pretty boy.’

Her dagger flicked from her belt in one swift motion, glinting in the midday light. The villagers tensed, as if expecting her to strike at Kael instead. But with a clean, practiced movement, she sliced through the ropes binding his wrists.

Kael flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders. “The last thing I want for Highcliff is to see a people still fractured while in peacetime.”

The village chief spit. “You made that reality in the first place.”

“The Blac’hils have done an exceptional job repurposing this nation to fit their needs. But I was never one of them—for one simple reason.”

Kael exhaled, his gaze sweeping across the gathered crowd, the weight of history pressing in on him.

"I was too young when it happened. I didn’t take this land—I inherited it. Stepped into shoes that weren’t mine. And granted, they were already muddied and trailing blood, so yes—the blame is mine for never deciding to clean it."

Another pause.

"So while I should be standing here defending myself against an army of pitchfork-wielders, I won’t."

He let the words settle.

"Because the truth is, I’ve neglected a significant portion of Highcliff for too long. Long enough for you to feel shutting yourselves off was your only choice."

A beat.

"That’s why I’m here. For one reason."

He tilted his head slightly, red eyes turning to golden.

"Tell me why."

The silence stretched, thick with tension. Then, from the crowd, a scoff.

“You need us to tell you?” A man near the front spat, arms crossed tight over his chest. “I think it’s pretty damned obvious. You and the Concordant both tore this land apart. And you’re still doing it.”

A chorus of agreement followed—low, bitter.

“You expect us to coexist with the people who brought war to our doorstep? With the ones who took our homes, our families?”

“And for what?” A woman’s voice, sharp and cutting. “So we can be reduced to just another cog in your demonkin system? So our children grow up knowing nothing but what you allow them to have?”

Kael remained still, absorbing their words. He did not argue.

“I cannot take back the past. I cannot undo what was done to you, to your homes, to your families. But I cannot—will not—recede from the Basin. The demonkin will not recede.”

The reaction was instant—protests, frustration.

“You don’t get to just decide that!” someone shouted.

Kael raised a hand. “No, I don’t. The world decided that a long time ago.”

The murmurs stilled, not in agreement, but because there was no easy response to that.

“You want to be left alone. To have this place to yourselves, untouched, unbothered. I understand that. But you don’t have the capacity to make that happen. And even if you did, it wouldn’t last.”

He let them turn it over in their minds.

Then, he exhaled. “Demonkin will move here. That is the reality of what happens when land is worth fighting over. It doesn’t stay isolated forever. And whether you like it or not, I do not wield enough power to decide for the High Lords to just give this land away.”

A few looked away, jaws clenched, hands fisted at their sides.

“So short of kicking us out, tell me—what can we do for you?”

A request.

A challenge.

The villagers hesitated.

One of the older men shifted, his voice less biting than before. “And what if we say ‘nothing’? What if we don’t want anything from you?”

“Then you’ll get nothing. But don’t stand here and tell me you don’t have grievances that can be addressed. What can I give you to become integrated into the landscape of Highcliff again? What can I do to prove to you we are not your enemy any longer?”

Kael, persuasive as ever. Elisa could step in. But it would be best if the only demonkin in the vicinity prove to others he really says what he means.

Elisa really hoped some of them come up with terms. All it took was one in for the village, and many villages like it, to relent and face reality.

So then, she stepped forward.

One of the village matriarchs. Shriveled, small, but standing.

She had outlived too many battles, seen too many failed resistances. And she knew—knew—they could not last like this. Not forever.

Her frail hands trembled as she extended them toward him.

Kael didn’t hesitate.

He took them.

They will debate the ethics of this situation later. No more posturing now.