Darkeus had arranged his study to perfection until it looked a testament to his perceived complex nature—a paradox of elegance and severity, much like the being who ruled it. Desia’s unexpected arrival occurred a day ago, but today Darkeus actually expected his visitor. Towering bookshelves lined every wall. The titles etched into their spines.

  The air itself was thick with silence, a vacuum that swallowed sound whole. No echoes dared linger here; even the rustle of parchment settling seemed muted, as though the room conspired to guard its secrets. The only illumination came from the flickering obsidian sconces, their flames burning a cold, spectral blue—light without warmth.

  Helus stood near the arched window, his silhouette framed against the desolate expanse beyond. The Darklands stretched endlessly outside, a wasteland of black sands where lost souls drifted like mist, their whispers lost to the wind.

  The shifting hues of Helus’ skin—crimson bleeding into azure, emerald dissolving into amethyst—made him seem less a being and more a living storm. His crimson eyes, sharp as shattered rubies, scanned the horizon with the weight of one who ruled over his own empire, which, in defense, Helus kind of did.

  Most realms had only one principal race. The Darklands had ghouls, Titania had titans, Dephenai had Dephenaids, Desinai had Oracles, the Nightrealm had Nightwalkers and so on. Hel had six. Those were the Pyrans, Lycans, Vampires, Demons, Helwalkers and Bloodwalkers, all collectively called the Helborne.

  Each one had its own kingdom in Hel, making it the largest realm in the underworld and the second biggest in the world behind only Earth.

  Now, having multiple inhabitants wasn’t too much of a flex since Earth itself was also very rich with giants, juggernauts, primes, humans, ogres and more. The entire realm itself was probably double the size of the entire underworld, but the truth of the matter was that creatures that inhabited Earth were mostly nomadic and lived in decentralized societies.

  Helus ruled over a realm of six highly powerful kingdoms always at war with each other, yet he maintained their peace. That was the major reason he was so celebrated among his fellow Origins for his immense leadership abilities.

  Darkeus himself couldn’t help but observe him from the shadows of his high-backed throne with both reverence and admiration.

  While Darkeus held Helus in high regard, their relationship was… complicated.

  That was an understatement, of course, but Darkeus had little patience for dissecting the nuances. Helus, not only Origin of Hel but also leader of the Union of Origins, bore burdens no other could fathom. Darkeus liked to believe he understood those burdens better than most.

  Whether Helus agreed with his view on that was another matter entirely, though.

  “How is your realm?” Darkeus asked.

  Helus turned, the colors of his skin rippling with amusement. A wry smile touched his lips, though it never reached his eyes.

  “Serene,” he replied.

  Darkeus did not believe that for a second. Hel had never been serene for a hundred years, and that was how long it had lasted. But news of serenity was not why Helus had been summoned nor its debate.

  Darkeus leaned forward, his fingers steepled

  “I have something to discuss with you,” he began, voice steady but edged with intent.

  “You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t,” Helus replied.

  “You believe I could not have just desired your company?” Darkeus asked, one brow lifting, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  Helus gave a short, humorless laugh.

  “If you desired company, you would have made yourself an assistant, a Grand Master, or a steward.” He gestured vaguely around the empty chamber. “The fact that you persist in ruling alone is proof enough that no one ever comes here just for company.”

  “Well, no one but Desia, of course,” he added.

  “It is actually about Desia that I would love to speak to you,” Darkeus replied

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Helus straightened in his seat, concern flashing in his eyes. “What about her?”

  “She has been having dreams,” Darkeus explained, his voice lowering as though the walls themselves might listen.

  “Dreams?” Helus echoed, leaning back slowly. “Are you sure this is not an issue you want to take up with Adelia?”

  “What if I thought it wasn’t her?” Darkeus replied.

  “You don’t?” Helus asked, confusion creasing deeper into his features.

  “Well, Desia doesn’t, and she is the person having the dreams,” Darkeus responded. “I have to take her word for it.”

  Helus drummed his fingers against his armrest, thinking.

  “Interesting.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “What is it about these dreams you want to discuss then?”

  “Truthfully, they trouble me,” Darkeus admitted.

  He recounted everything Desia had told him — the vision, the apparition in the Mystia fields, the warning of encroaching darkness, the way the very air had seemed to curdle with malice. As he spoke, the flames in the sconces dimmed, as though the shadows themselves leaned in to listen.

  Helus listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When Darkeus finished, the Origin of Hel merely nodded.

  “We will discuss everything at the meeting.” A diplomat’s answer, revealing nothing.

  Darkeus’ jaw tightened at the response.

  Of course.

  Always deflection, always patience. How exhausting it must be to play the wise though for Helus, it probably wasn’t a game. However, Darkeus thought it wise to change the topic.

  “How goes the recruitment, by the way?” Darkeus asked.

  “Unfruitful. As always,” Helus admitted.

  Darkeus sprang at the chance to critique Permeus. He obviously needed little inspiration to do it, but when he got the chance, he rarely missed it.

  “It might be easier to convince people if the meeting were hosted in a realm that truly acknowledged the importance of our cause.” The implication hung in the air, sharp as a dagger. “Or at least by a leader who did? Bold take, I know but it does have credence and you would probably do well to give it some consideration.”

  Helus’ multicolored skin darkened, the hues deepening to a stormy indigo.

  “I see we are starting with this again,” the Origin jibed

  “Please you of all people know the drill,” Darkeus admitted

  “Very well, I’ll bite,” Helus relented

  “Why do you always have so little faith in Permeus?” He asked blatantly.

  Darkeus didn’t bother to mask his disdain.

  “You act like I’m the only one.”

  “You are the most vocal.”

  A humorless smile tugged at Darkeus’ lips.

  “He is irresponsible. Immature. An embarrassment to the Origins. Need I continue. It would make far more sense if his assistant, Germaine, represented Titania.”

  The temperature in the study plummeted.

  “Permeus needs time to grow into his role.”

  “Time?” Darkeus scoffed. “It has been a century since he founded Titania and half of one since he started hosting our meetings. During that time I have seen mountains undergo better character development”

  “And I shall gladly give him another of both if needed.” Helus responded.

  “He treats his realm and position like a personal playground, his people like accessories to some grand performance.”

  For a heartbeat, Darkeus thought he had finally cracked Helus’ legendary composure. The Origin’s crimson eyes blazed, his form flickering like a candle in a gale. Then—

  “Enough.” The word was a command, not a request, laced with a power that made the very stones tremble.

  Darkeus fell silent, though his gaze remained defiant. He was not some chastened child to be cowed by a raised voice. Helus exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost pitying.

  “You could be better if you did less to irritate others. You know,” Helus said. “If you were less irritable, you...”

  “I would have been a leader of the Origins council?” Darkeus asked, knowing he had taken a shot at Helus’ armor, making the Origin’s eyes startle for a second.

  “You and I both know why you were not chosen either to lead the council nor host it,” Helus pointed out

  “Actually, I believe you only know that. I personally find it interesting that you would suggest that I should be able to cite out personal flaws that justify me being an inadequate choice ,” Darkeus argued

  “Well, then,” Helus exhaled

  “Until you are able to do so and find it out for yourself, you will never be worthy of either,” Helus argued back

  “Yet remarkably, somehow Permeus is,” Darkeus countered

  “Just take my advice, brother,” Helus said exasperated

  Advice.

  How quaint. Darkeus nearly laughed. Of course Helus would retreat into mentorship. He had spent years managing the fragile egos of their kind, smoothing over conflicts with the patience of a sculptor carving marble. But Darkeus was no raw block to be shaped. He was the chisel.

  “Permeus will never be the leader you dream him to be,” Darkeus said coldly. “ Your faith in him is touching but tragically misguided. Surely someone as intelligent as you know that.”

  Helus’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “Sometimes faith means much more to me than intelligence.” He simply countered.

  “Yet in this instance, only one can be wrong.” Darkeus argued.

  “Both,” Helus blurted

  Darkeus blinked. “What?”

  “Both can be wrong,” Helus repeated, “but my faith in Permeus is not.”

  “Do you need reminding that that horrid take is just your opinion?,” Darkeus pointed out

  “It’s the one that matters most to me. Just as Permeus’ matters to his and yours matters to you,” Helus argued.

  Darkeus leaned back, studying him. “So only one of us can be right?”

  Helus smiled. “Wrong again.”

  “You love saying that, don’t you?”

  “Hopefully, in time, you will see what I see.” Helus turned toward the door, his form already beginning to dissolve at the edges, preparing to shift realms.

  “Intriguing proposition brother but I fear I must decline”

  Darkeus rose from his throne, his voice a low snarl. “I will watch the world burn before I view Permeus as a leader.”

  Helus paused. The air grew heavy, thick with unspoken power. Then, without looking back, he said:

  “Then so be it.”

  The door closed behind him with a whisper of finality, leaving both men sour