Myrren could barely breathe.

  She watched in mounting horror as Cassian fought on, a solitary bastion against annihilation. The Crown Prince stood amid the chaos, magic, and steel carving arcs through the swarm of insectoid horrors, his movements precise even under impossible pressure. Strength and speed beyond mortal limits carried him forward, spells woven seamlessly into each strike, each step, each parry. Even now—especially now—he was magnificent.

  And it was not enough.

  The swarm pressed in relentlessly, numbers replenishing faster than Cassian could cut them down. Worse still were the moments when the rhythm of his battle fractured—when one of the twin Demon brothers struck. A sudden pounce from the shadows. A barbed tail whipping through the chaos. A breath attack fired not to kill, but to disrupt.

  Each interruption was perfect.

  Each one cost him.

  Every time Cassian faltered, even for a heartbeat, one of Lilith's summoned insects found its mark—claws raking, mandibles tearing, venomous barbs sinking deep. Myrren could hear Lilith's laughter echo through the carnage.

  Something inside Myrren broke.

  With shaking hands, she forced her Vaylora to respond and hurled a fire spell toward the looming demons. The flame barely crossed the distance before Lilith batted it aside with casual disdain. The Demoness turned her gaze upon Myrren, eyes filled not with anger, but contempt.

  "All of this is your fault, child," Lilith said coldly. "If they weren't so worried about protecting you, they could have put up a much better fight."

  The words struck harder than any blade.

  Myrren's breath hitched. She knew it was true. She had known it from the moment the battle turned—when they had moved to shield her, when the flow of combat shifted irrevocably. She was dead weight. A liability. A burden dragging them all toward death.

  Her hands flew to her head as panic consumed her. But black tendrils denied her even that relief, seizing her completely.

  They lifted her chin, forced her head to the side, and pried her eyes open. She screamed and thrashed, but the grip was absolute.

  "No… no!" she cried.

  She was made to watch.

  Cassian was torn away piece by piece, his movements slowing as the swarm overwhelmed him. He fought on—gods, he fought—but he could no longer protect Darius and Lucen. The insects poured over them, drowning them beneath chitin and claws.

  Myrren's vision blurred as she looked up and saw Selene.

  Rage and grief burned in Selene's eyes, tears streaking down her face. Her gaze locked onto Myrren's—

  "I'm sorry," Myrren sobbed. "I'm sorry—no—I didn't mean—"

  Cassian's energy finally failed.

  The swarm closed in completely.

  Her eyes were held open as his screams filled the air—raw, agonized, unmistakably human.

  "No… NO!"

  Desperation surged. Myrren opened her mouth, trying to bite down with all her strength—to tear out her own tongue, to end it, to escape—

  Clawed fingers forced their way into her mouth.

  Lilith appeared before her, face inches away, smiling.

  "You think you can escape this that easily, girl?"

  She gripped Myrren's face, her grip tightening on Myrren's jaw, forcing her to look—

  And then Selene's voice spoke through Lilith's mouth.

  "Wake up!"

  Myrren's glazed eyes twitched.

  "Myrren, wake up!"

  The world shattered.

  She jolted upright in a bed, gasping, lungs burning as if she had been drowning. Light replaced darkness. The scent of antiseptics and warm air filled her senses. She looked around wildly.

  A medical ward.

  Two humanoid Phoenix stood nearby, radiant and calm. Selene was there—alive, unharmed save for torn clothing. Cassian stood beside her, breathing steadily, his own clothes damaged but his body whole.

  Myrren sagged back against the bed, trembling.

  "It was just a nightmare," she whispered hoarsely. "Good… everyone's fine."

  "I wouldn't say everyone is fine."

  Cassian stepped aside.

  Myrren's breath caught.

  Darius and Lucen lay in beds like her own—bandaged, unmoving. Their injuries mirrored exactly what she had seen in the nightmare.

  "What happened?" she asked weakly.

  Selene stepped forward, her expression unreadable.

  "First," Selene said softly, "tell me what you saw."

  A while later, Myrren finished recounting the dream with a dry throat and shaking hands. The words felt unreal now that she spoke them aloud—like recounting someone else's nightmare rather than her own. When she finally fell silent, the medical ward seemed unnaturally quiet.

  Selene exhaled slowly.

  "I see," she said at last. "That lines up… the madness took hold after I cast Stardust."

  Myrren's shoulders sagged as if the last of her strength had drained away. "So everything was real," she said quietly, "until after Stardust was cast?"

  "Yes," Selene replied. "The moment the light bloomed, Zhoruun tendrils emerged from it and bound you. Those tendrils put you in a madness-inducing illusion. We rushed to help you, and in the ensuing chaos… the four of them fled."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Myrren stared down at her hands.

  "I see," she murmured. "So it's my fault they got away."

  She let out a long, defeated sigh.

  "I'd say it's more their fault."

  Cassian's voice cut in sharply. He gestured with his thumb toward the two unconscious figures lying in their beds.

  Before he could say anything further, Selene jabbed him hard in the side.

  "Ow—!" Cassian groaned, bending slightly. He straightened with a grimace, then cleared his throat. "Sorry. That was… uncalled for."

  He glanced back at Darius and Lucen, his expression sobering.

  "We underestimated the demons," Cassian continued, rubbing the back of his head. "Which I didn't think was even possible."

  "It's my fault. I got careless... arrogant. There's no rule saying demons can't become more powerful. I was a fool for thinking I could handle them, just because my grandmother did in her youth." Selene cursed herself.

  "That beast mark. I never heard of something like that. And"—Cassian paused, frowning—"what the hell is a Zhoruun?"

  Myrren answered before Selene could.

  "Zhoruun is a Deas."

  Cassian blinked.

  "…What the hell is a Deas?"

  Myrren and Selene both turned to stare at him.

  There was a long, uncomfortable pause.

  Selene's brow furrowed. Myrren's mouth opened slightly, then closed again as if she weren't sure how to respond.

  Finally, Selene spoke, "I expect something like this from Lucen, maybe even Darius…but you?"

  Cassian lifted his hands defensively. "In my defense, I was raised on politics, and war—not eldritch cosmic horrors that live between the stars."

  Myrren swallowed.

  "That… may be about to become a problem," she said quietly.

  The room fell silent again—but this time, the silence felt heavier. Cassian broke the silence first, folding his arms as he leaned back against the edge of the medical cot.

  "Well, ladies?" he said. "Don't leave this ignorant prince wondering. What exactly is a Deas?"

  Selene studied him for a moment before answering.

  "You are aware of the three supreme species of life," she said carefully.

  Cassian nodded. "Angels, demons, and dragons. Yes. Every child knows this."

  "Deas," Myrren said quietly, "are creatures that existed before them."

  Cassian's brow furrowed.

  "They came into being at the same moment as creation itself," Myrren continued, her voice tightening as if the knowledge carried weight all its own. "And they possess power equal to—sometimes greater than—those three."

  "Or so the legends say," Selene added, her tone cautious.

  Myrren swallowed. "Legend also says that, unlike angels, demons, and dragons… Deas have no will. No guiding purpose. They don't choose to act. They simply exist."

  Cassian scoffed softly. "So—will-less, vaguely formless masses of intent? Creatures that embody abstract concepts? And some demons can give will and purpose to that power. Fucking Great."

  He tilted his head. "Let me guess. Zhoruun embodies hunger?"

  "No," Selene said at once.

  Myrren's breath hitched. "Fear."

  Cassian looked at her.

  "The primordial fear," Myrren whispered. "The instinctive terror all sentient beings feel toward the deep darkness, where even the stars cannot reach. That is what it represents."

  "According to legend," Selene added again, though this time the qualifier sounded thinner.

  Cassian huffed a short laugh. "That's… remarkably specific."

  He paused. "How many Deas are there?"

  Selene met his gaze. "How many vague, yet oddly specific concepts do you think exist?"

  Cassian considered that. "More than I can count in one sitting."

  "Exactly." Selene smiled.

  He studied her expression. "You don't sound convinced they exist."

  "If you'd asked me three hours ago," Selene said slowly, "I would have said they didn't."

  She hesitated.

  "…And now?"

  "I doubt all of them do," she said—but the words sounded less like certainty and more like she was trying to convince herself.

  Myrren hugged her arms to her chest. "W–What are we going to do?"

  Selene straightened,

  "If you mean the rogue demons," she said evenly, "they're still in the Hallows. We'll find them again."

  Myrren stared at her. "Y–You want to find them? Again? But—"

  "She's right," Cassian cut in. "And you know it."

  He glanced toward the beds where Darius and Lucen lay.

  "They didn't show everything they had. From the start, their goal was escape. Even I could tell Azeal was holding back."

  His jaw tightened.

  "We're not strong enough to beat them."

  "Yet," Selene said sharply.

  Cassian exhaled. "Yet."

  "But they can't leave the Hallows," Selene continued. "And regardless of the risk, we have to end this."

  Cassian folded his arms tighter. "And how exactly do you propose we do that? We're already dealing with the matter of the Five Bishops. Who may or may not be working with someone who may or may not be the Pale Seer."

  Selene pressed her fingers to her temples.

  "This is a shitshow."

  "I agree," Cassian said without hesitation.

  Myrren hesitated, then asked softly, "Can't we ask the Emperors for help?"

  Selene's eyes snapped to her.

  "That…" Cassian said carefully, "…may not be the best solution."

  "I don't understand."

  "If the Emperors intervene directly," Cassian explained, "it could destabilize the Accords. External involvement in internal Hallow matters would severely damage their standing."

  "But Selene and Madame Morgan helped during the attack on the capital," Myrren protested.

  "Yes," Cassian said. "And that is precisely why the Hallows gained political leverage afterward."

  He sighed.

  "Helping here would erase that advantage."

  Myrren fell silent.

  "…But," Cassian admitted, "we may not have another choice. And as the Prince of Valenfor, I thoroughly support reducing the Hallows political leverage."

  The weight of that truth settled heavily over the room.

  Selene broke the silence, her voice steady despite the strain still etched into her features.

  "I bet you do. Unfortunately for you, my dear prince. There are other options," she said. "I can go back and ask my grandmother for help again. After this… she won't be able to simply watch from a distance. Not anymore. She'll have to intervene—somehow."

  Cassian nodded immediately. "Agreed."

  Then he added, "You should also speak with the Emperor of Altheyron. He's your grandfather—and you're his heir apparent. There's no world in which he makes this difficult for you."

  Selene inclined her head. "I will ask both of my grandparents for aid in dealing with the demons."

  Her gaze drifted toward the far end of the ward.

  "But that still leaves the Bishops," she continued quietly. "And Darius was managing that situation… surprisingly well. With the injuries he sustained, I don't—"

  The phoenix physician stepped forward, feathers rustling softly as he inclined his head.

  "With those injuries," he said, "even you would require several days of recovery, Princess. For a normal human…" He hesitated. "He should be bedridden for at least a month."

  Before anyone could respond—

  Darius sat upright.

  The motion was sudden, violent enough to draw sharp gasps. He drew in a breath and thrust out his hand, fingers curling as though closing around a weapon that wasn't there.

  Silence crashed over the room.

  Darius blinked, disoriented. His gaze swept across Selene and Cassian, then settled on Myrren. When he saw she was unharmed, he exhaled—long and unsteady.

  The phoenix physician stared at him in open shock. Then he rushed forward.

  Selene didn't move.

  Her eyes were locked on Darius's outstretched hand.

  Unknown to her, it was the same hand he had used to claim Devotion.

  She had never seen it not coated in armor.

  Faint, shimmering patterns rippled just beneath the skin, catching the light like heat haze. Scales, barely there, not fully formed, but unmistakable—ghosted across his knuckles before fading.

  "What the hell?" Cassian breathed.

  The physician tore away the bandages, his movements frantic.

  The wounds were gone. Where deep gashes had been, the same faint, iridescent scale-pattern lingered like an afterimage, slowly receding.

  At the bedside, Devotion rattled softly against its sheath. Happy its wielder had quickly recovered.

  The room stood frozen.