The Offer

Morgana returned to the general’s tent with Serika trailing behind her, the faint smell of smoke and sweat from the demon camp clinging to her cloak. She had gotten what she wanted out of the tour, for now, and all that remained was to excuse herself and figure out her next step. 

She’d barely pulled back the flap when her eyes fell on someone else that was already inside. And this one… well, this one made her skin crawl.

Well. Fuck me sideways.

He was tall, shorter than the general, but only barely. Two sets of jagged black horns jutted back from his skull, curling in cruel arcs like claws raking the air. His skin was a dull gray, scales catching faint glimmers of the brazier light along his arms and throat. 

A thick tail curled lazily behind him, ending in a bladed tip that tapped the ground in slow, deliberate rhythm.

And his eyes— no, scratch that. His eyes were hidden. A twisted, iron-looking helm wrapped over the top half of his face, spikes running up its length. Despite that, he tilted his head toward Morgana the second she stepped in, as though he could see her perfectly.

Well, that’s not creepy at all. Helm covering his eyes, yet staring right at me like he’s reading my diary. Fucking fantastic.

Kaelith stood behind the map table, arms folded, while the horned stranger turned smoothly toward Morgana. His voice was like a rasp dragged across stone, but the words were precise.

“You must be the one General Kaelith spoke of.”

Morgana arched a brow, forcing her smirk. “Depends. Did he say I was beautiful, terrifying, and a pain in the ass? Because if not, you might have the wrong girl.”

The stranger gave a sound that might have been a chuckle- or a cough. He didn’t introduce himself right away, which set Morgana even more on edge. Men who withheld names usually did so because their names meant something.

It should work the same way for the demons as well, right? The more important a person, the less they feel the need to share their names... right?

Kaelith, thankfully, filled the silence. “Morgana, this is Malakar. He serves… a role of great importance.”

Great. Vague introductions. Never suspicious at all.

Morgana gave a little wave. “Pleasure, I think. Though if you’re about to sell me something, I don’t have coin on me.”

Malakar inclined his head, utterly unfazed by her snark. “Word has reached me you asked this army not to advance on the human city.”

Well, shit. Straight to business, then.

She crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “Yeah. That’s right. I bought a house there. Finally got comfortable. I’d rather not watch it go up in flames because your troops are playing conquer-the-neighborhood.”

Serika twitched in the corner of the tent, clearly not sure how to handle Morgana’s tone. Kaelith’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t interrupt.

Malakar tapped one claw against his tail’s bladed tip, slow and deliberate. “Our goal is not the city. It is the ruins beyond. The city merely lies in our path.”

Morgana’s smirk widened a fraction. “Then lucky for both of us, I know a faster way.”

Kaelith’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly. “You claim knowledge of paths our scouts do not?”

“I claim I’ve walked them. While you lot camped and clashed, I’ve been wandering the forests. I could lead a group right to those ruins in a fraction of the time.” 

She leaned one elbow on the map table, grinning like she’d just solved their little war for them. “In return, you keep your soldiers’ boots out of my backyard.”

Malakar was silent for a long while. She could almost hear the gears grinding behind that helmet. His head tilted slightly, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt the weight of his attention pressing on her skin.

Fuck, he’s really looking at me. Like he’s trying to peel me open. Don’t squirm, Morgana. Smile. Look like you don’t give a damn.

Finally, the rasping voice broke the silence. “You would do this… for yourself.”

Morgana barked a laugh. “Of course I would. You think I’m running charity? I’m not some noble knight pledging my sword for glory and honor. I’m doing this because it benefits me. And if it benefits you, too? Then lucky day.”

Kaelith’s lips quirked like he was suppressing a smile. Malakar, on the other hand, didn’t move. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t breathe, for all she could tell.

Then, at last, the horned figure inclined his head. “Very well. I will gather a small flight of demons. Those with wings. And one of my own will accompany you to ensure the ruins are… properly approached.”

Of course. Babysitter duty. Should’ve expected that. Wait, one of his own? What does that mean? Is he from some sort of fucking different line of demons?

Morgana stopped to look at him. Really look at his attire and attitude. He was wearing priestlike robes in a more twisted way, swaying around hooved feet-

Wait... priestlike? Is he one of the seers I kept hearing about? If so, fuck! And he wants to send one of his to observe me? This is getting dangerous by the fucking second. 

Morgana gathered her wits and continued her acting. She gave a theatrical sigh, then flashed a grin. “Fine by me. Just don’t slow me down.”

Kaelith spoke then, voice deep and steady. “When will you depart?”

Morgana straightened, stretching her wings lazily. “Tonight. No need to delay it further.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Malakar’s tail scraped across the floor before curling back behind him. “Then it is decided.”

Morgana forced herself not to visibly exhale in relief. She turned on her heel, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Lovely chat, gentlemen. Try not to stab each other before sunset.”

She strode out of the tent, heart pounding but grin intact, muttering under her breath once the noon air hit her face.

“Fuck me. Seers, generals, culty zealots with helmets over their eyes. I’m in way too deep.”

But deep down, she knew one thing with terrifying clarity. None of them scared her. Not Kaelith. Not Malakar. Not their goddamn seers or their visions.

And that was the part that terrified her most of all.