The Demon In the Royal Garden

“You’re the boy Lady Julia told me about,” he said. “She said I should befriend you because we’re the same age.”

He looked at the broken glass again. “But after what you did to our palace, I already dislike you.”

Nash’s mouth curled. “I’ve started to realize royals are despicable,” he said. “So I already hate you too, little princess.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “What did you call me?”

“Little princess.”

Anger flushed across his face. “I am Alvis Vashenharth,” he snapped. “Prince of Valenharth. You are standing in my home after breaking our window, and you dare speak to me like that?”

Alvis’s hand tightened at his side. “You are no longer welcome here,” he said. “Get lost.”

A flame formed above his palm. It was small, but bright enough to make Nash stiffen.

Alvis flicked his hand. The flame shot forward and struck the ground in front of Nash. Fire burst against the garden stone, close enough to make Nash step back, but not close enough to hit him.

Alvis lifted his chin. “That was a warning.”

But Nash did not hear him.

The scorched mark on the ground spread through his vision.

For a moment, the palace garden disappeared.

He saw his village.

Burning roofs.

Collapsed houses.

His mother on her knees.

Then Athelson’s draconic eyes returned—vertical slits shining like golden blades through the fire.

Nash’s breath shook. “I’ll kill you.”

Alvis blinked. “What?”

Nash’s voice came out low.

Ragged.

Not aimed at Alvis anymore.

“I’ll kill you.”

Dark crimson aura erupted from his body, rising like smoke.

Alvis took one step back.

He’s a magician too?

The air beside Nash twisted, then tore open like a wound in space.

Dark crimson light spilled from the tear, and black smoke poured into the garden.

Nash stared at his own hand. “What…?”

A massive armored hand gripped the edge of the portal. Then another. Something pulled itself out.

It was tall. Muscular. Covered in black armor that seemed grown onto its body rather than worn. Its long raven hair moved like smoke, and horns like sharpened blades rose from its skull. Flames burned upward from the hollows where its eyes should have been.

Two swords were buried inside its body, their hilts protruding like weapons waiting to be drawn.

The thing did not speak. It simply turned toward Alvis.

Alvis’s face went pale.

The summoned entity lunged.

Alvis threw himself aside as its fist struck the place where he had been standing.

Stone exploded.

The shockwave cracked several nearby windows and sent shards of glass ringing across the garden path.

Nash stared, breathless. “Is this… my magic?”

The entity slowly straightened, its burning eyes fixing on Alvis again. Then it reached toward its own body and began drawing the two swords from within its flesh.

Nash’s blood went cold. “Stop.”

The entity did not react.

Nash stepped forward. “I said stop. That’s enough.”

It kept walking, each step making the ground tremble.

Alvis crawled backward, unable to tear his eyes away from it.

“Stop!” Nash shouted.

The creature did not even look at him.

Nash’s breath caught.

It was not listening.

Then yellow lightning flashed.

Kane appeared between Alvis and the entity.

A blade of lightning formed in his right hand.

With a single diagonal swing, he split the creature from shoulder to hip.

The two halves separated, spilling blood into the air.

“Dad!” Alvis shouted.

Kane did not look away from the portal beside Nash.

Two copies of Kane, made entirely of yellow lightning, emerged from his body. One seized Nash; the other seized Alvis. In the next instant, both boys were pulled away from the danger.

The split body moved. Kane’s eyes sharpened as the creature’s halves dragged themselves together, flesh and armor reconnecting with a wet, unnatural sound.

Then both swords flashed. Kane stepped back as the blades struck the ground where he had stood.

Stone split open.

The creature regained its balance and rushed forward again.

Kane raised his lightning blade.

This time, he did not aim for the body.

He aimed past it, toward the portal.

A massive arc of lightning tore across the garden and struck the summoned entity head-on.

The impact drove it backward. Its feet carved deep lines through the stone as it fought against the force, but Kane’s lightning did not stop.

The slash pushed harder, forcing the creature back toward the open portal behind it, then fully into it.

Kane stepped forward, his expression darkening. “Norgus…” The name left his mouth like a wound. “What have you done?”

Kane swung his lightning blade toward the open portal.

The slash tore through space itself, forming a rift of yellow lightning over the dark crimson portal.

For a moment, the two openings overlapped.

Yellow lightning and dark crimson energy twisted together, grinding against each other until the portal shook violently before both collapsed.

The lightning blade faded.

The two lightning copies disappeared, leaving Nash and Alvis standing several steps apart.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Only the broken garden answered with silence.

Kane turned toward them, his gaze first checking Alvis, then Nash.

A memory flickered behind his eyes of a woman’s voice.

Thank you for everything, King Kane.

She smiled softly. Hopefully, these two little angels could someday find each other and become friends.

Kane’s expression tightened. “Natasha… Norgus…”

Guilt settled across his face before he buried it. “Are both of you okay?”

Alvis swallowed and pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah… I think.” His voice trembled despite his effort to sound calm. “But what was that thing, Dad?”

Kane glanced at the place where the rift had closed. “That was something that should not be here.”

Nash turned his back and started walking away until Kane’s voice stopped him.

“Where do you think you’re going, Nash?”

Nash froze, then slowly turned his head. “How do you know my name?”

Kane looked toward the palace. “The sun is setting. Let’s go inside.”

“I asked you a question.”

Nash’s fists clenched. “How do you know my name?”

Alvis stepped forward, a flame forming again above his palm. “Choose your words carefully when addressing the king.”

Kane’s eyes shifted from the flame above his son’s palm to the scorched mark on the ground.

Nash sneered. “Look who’s threatening me. The little princess who almost pissed his pants.”

Alvis’s face reddened. “You—!”

“Alvis.”

Kane’s voice cut through the quarrel, and the prince stopped as Kane’s gaze held him in place. “Is this the future king you aspire to be?”

Alvis stared at him. “What?”

“A king who attacks the weak?”

Alvis’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t attack him! I only aimed at the ground. He broke the window, Dad. I saw him!”

“His reaction is understandable,” Kane said. “He is confused. He is afraid. He has lost everything.”

Alvis looked away as Kane’s voice hardened.

“But what about you?”

The prince flinched.

“I am disappointed.”

Alvis’s lips tightened. “But he—”

Kane’s expression silenced him, and for several seconds, Alvis said nothing. Then he turned his face toward Nash, though he refused to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “For using magic to scare you.”

Nash stared at him, then at Kane. Kane’s gaze moved to him. “Now it is your turn.”

Nash’s expression darkened. “Don’t think you can order me around just because you’re a king.” Nash’s voice sharpened. “I won’t apologize.”

Kane said nothing.

Nash turned away. “I don’t know how you knew my name, and I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

He took one step.

In the next instant, Kane stood in front of him.

Nash stopped.

He had not seen him move.

“You know I cannot allow that,” Kane said.

Nash’s teeth clenched. “Are you kidding me? Get out of my way.”

“I won’t.”

The answer was calm.

Nash glared at him for a long moment, then clicked his tongue and walked toward the palace.

“This guy…” His voice was low enough that only he could hear it. “He’s not ordinary. He stopped that thing like it was nothing.” His hand tightened. “But I’m not staying here.”

Midnight came.

Nash lay awake in a different room, turned on his side beneath soft palace sheets that felt nothing like home.

Moonlight fell across his face through the wide window. He pulled his hair over his left eye, hiding the half-crimson iris once more.

His stomach growled, but the plate of dinner Julia had brought hours ago remained outside his door, untouched.

He had not changed clothes either. Folded clothes lay on the dresser—fresh, clean, and expensive-looking. Alvis had brought them earlier under Kane’s order, his face making it clear he hated the idea of sharing his own clothes.

Nash did not touch them. The clothes he wore still smelled faintly of smoke.

He closed his eyes. The moment he did, he saw his mother burn.

His eyes opened again. Sleep would not come.

All he could think about was the same thing.

Escape this new cage.

Master that power.

Kill Athelson.

Nash pushed himself up. “It’s time.”

He walked to the door and tried the handle.

It opened.

Nash stared, then a faint smile touched his mouth. “Heh. What a bunch of idiots.”

He stepped into the hall.

The palace was silent. White chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one holding prismatic crystals that glowed softly in the darkness.

Nash moved quietly—left, down the stairs, right, another hallway, then another.

This place is huge.

After several turns, he finally found the main exit.

The door opened into the garden, and cool night air touched his face.

Nash moved across the stone path and saw the iron gate in the distance. Closed, but unguarded.

He frowned. “What kind of king doesn’t assign guards to protect his own gate?”

He took another step.

A voice came from above.

“Having trouble sleeping?”

Nash went still, then looked up.

Kane stood on an upper palace balcony overlooking the garden, moonlight falling over his golden hair.

He was smiling.

Not cruelly. Not mockingly.

But Nash hated it anyway. It made him feel as if Kane had known exactly when he would try to escape.

Nash’s fist clenched.

The moonlight stretched between them like a silent witness.

That same moonlight fell far beyond the continent of Valenharth, where the Imperial Castle of Ashvaria rose from the edge of a towering mountain.

Below it spread Asherath City, its lights scattered beneath dark clouds like dying embers.

Athelson stood in a silent corridor before a black iron torch. His hand rose toward it, then stopped.

He swallowed. For a moment, he only stared at the torch.

Then he forced himself to grip it and pull it down.

The walls shifted.

Stone moved beneath his feet. The ceiling groaned. The corridor folded into itself as if the castle had rearranged its own bones.

When the movement stopped, Athelson stood before the grand throne room.

The throne room opened beneath a majestic dome, with a vast balcony overlooking the city. In one corner, an old wooden piano rested in silence, its music halted the moment Athelson entered.

At the far end of the room sat the throne, facing the balcony. A man sat upon it, looking out over the city below, while another stood beside him.

For a few seconds, only silence greeted Athelson.

Then the man on the throne spoke.

“It took you long enough.”

Athelson lowered his head. “I apologize for the delay. I—”

His body slammed to one knee.

Pressure crushed down on him.

Athelson’s breath caught.

The man beside the throne looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Where are your manners, Athelson?” he asked. “Did you forget you stand before your emperor?”

Colvin was tall. Clad in black armor. His eyes held no warmth at all, and his hand rested near the blue handle of the sword at his side.

Athelson’s teeth clenched.

Colvin, you vile…

The pressure deepened.

Athelson lowered his head further. “I… apologize.”

“Good.”

The pressure vanished.

Athelson inhaled sharply.

“Tell us about your expedition,” Magnus said. “Every last detail.”

Only then did Athelson dare raise his gaze.

Emperor Magnus.

Ruler of the Ashvaria Empire.

A crimson cloak draped from his shoulders, dark as blood. Black hair fell around his face, and mismatched eyes—one black, one crimson.

Athelson’s throat tightened. “I killed the woman named Natasha,” he said. “And destroyed the village.”

He hesitated.

The room seemed to grow colder.

“But I couldn’t bring the boy.”

Magnus’s finger twitched.

That was all.

No shout. No sudden outburst. Only a tiny movement.

And yet Athelson’s blood turned cold.

Magnus stood from his throne.

The air grew thick as smoky crimson aura rose from his body. “So,” Magnus said quietly. “That is what happened.”

He unsheathed his sword.

One slash.

The blade moved once through the air, and a colossal arc of dark crimson energy tore out of the castle, cleaving through the clouds above Asherath City.

For an instant, the clouds split open, and the moon appeared.

Magnus sheathed the sword. “That could have been you, Athelson.”

Athelson’s sweat struck the floor.

He did not raise his gaze. He did not defend himself. He barely breathed.

To him, this room was a nightmare.

To Colvin, it was entertainment.

A faint smile rested on his face as he watched Athelson tremble.

A dark crimson portal opened beside Magnus, and from it he took a crystal glass filled with red wine.

Magnus crossed the throne room slowly and stopped in front of Athelson.

Athelson did not move.

Magnus tilted the glass. Red wine poured over Athelson’s head, soaking his hair and running down his face.

Then Magnus let the empty glass fall, and it shattered against the stone floor. “Do you know what gave that glass value?” Magnus asked.

Athelson’s lips parted, but no answer came. He was too afraid to risk the wrong one.

Magnus leaned closer. “The wine.”

His voice was soft.

That made it worse.

“Wine imported from Lykoria. Rare. Expensive. Difficult to acquire.”

He seized Athelson by the hair and forced his head up.

Pain shot through Athelson’s scalp.

“But once the wine is spilled…”

Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “…the glass is just trash.”

Athelson’s breath shook.

“Do you want to become trash, Athelson?”

Magnus tightened his grip. “Do you want to return to what you were before? A worthless thief. Empty. Forgotten. Useful to no one.”

Athelson’s fear of Kane had been overwhelming.

But this was worse.

“I swear it wasn’t me,” Athelson said quickly. “The false king intervened. The boy was in my grasp. I swear to you, Emperor Magnus.”

Magnus studied him. “How could he find you in the vastness of Valenharth?”

“I don’t know,” Athelson said. “He just did. He came with the full payment. All the golden coins he owed you.”

Colvin’s eyes narrowed. “One hundred and twenty thousand golden coins?”

“Yes. I placed them in the treasury room.”

Magnus stared into Athelson’s eyes as if searching for a lie, then released his hair.

Athelson lowered his head at once.

Magnus walked back toward the throne.

Colvin’s gaze shifted slightly. “From where could the false King obtain such an amount so quickly?”

Magnus sat, his expression darkening. “That meddling Sardar must have interfered.”

“And now that he knows the boy matters to me…” Magnus rested one hand on the throne. “He will protect him.”

“At least we know where the boy is now,” Colvin said.

A bitter laugh escaped Magnus. “Yes.” His crimson eye glowed faintly. “It seems history is repeating itself.”

The emperor leaned back into his throne. “Very well, false King.” The moonlight fell across his face. “We tried the easy way.” His voice lowered. “Now we try the hard one.”

Magnus turned his gaze toward Colvin.

“Call upon the Kraken Organization.”

Colvin bowed.

“It is time for them to move,” Magnus continued.