The royal palace's outer courtyard was heavily guarded, with checkpoints established at every entrance. Aster joined a small queue of people waiting to be processed—some seeking audience with officials, others like himself hoping to join the guard or volunteer their services in the crisis.
The wait was long. Guards questioned everyone thoroughly, checking identities, demanding explanations for why they were approaching the palace during an emergency.
When Aster finally reached the checkpoint, a stern-faced guard looked him up and down. "State your business."
"I'm here to join the city guard," Aster said, maintaining his altered voice. "I'm a trained fighter. I can help protect the city."
The guard's expression softened slightly. "We're not recruiting additional guards at this time due to the emergency. Command's too busy to process new applications."
"This is important," Aster pressed. "I have skills that could be useful. Please, I just need to speak with someone about—"
"Then you'll have to wait for Commander Arac," the guard interrupted. "He's the only one authorized to approve emergency recruitments. But he's not here yet—he's out investigating the plague incidents personally."
The guard gestured toward a waiting area—a covered portico with benches where several other people sat. "You can wait there if you want. Might be hours though. Commander's been working around the clock."
Aster nodded and moved to the waiting area, taking a seat on one of the stone benches. At least here, inside the palace compound, he was relatively safe. The guards wouldn't think to look for the cursed king among the people trying to join their ranks.
As he settled in to wait, Aster noticed something on a small table beside the benches: a collection of books. They looked old and expensive, bound in leather with gilt lettering on the spines. The kind of volumes that would normally be kept in a library, not left out in a public waiting area.
Curious, Aster leaned closer to read the titles:
*Ancient Legends of the White Dragon Kingdom*
*Urban Myths and Their Origins*
*A Compendium of Known Spiritual Entities*
*Historical Accounts of Dark Magic*
Someone had left these here recently—perhaps another person waiting who'd gotten called in and forgotten them. Or perhaps they'd been placed here deliberately, a way to keep anxious visitors occupied during long waits.
Aster glanced at the nearest guard—a young man who was watching the courtyard entrance and paying no attention to the waiting area.
"Excuse me," Aster called softly. "Do I have permission to read these books while I wait?"
The guard glanced over, saw the books, and shrugged without much interest. He didn't reply, just returned his attention to his post.
Aster took that as permission. He reached for the largest volume—*A Compendium of Known Spiritual Entities*—and opened it carefully.
The first page featured an elaborate illustration of an eye surrounded by arcane symbols. The title beneath it read: *The Eye of the West*.
Of course. The most famous legend in the kingdom would naturally be featured first. Aster read the entry quickly, but it told him nothing he didn't already know—just the public version of the story, the sanitized myth that parents told their children.
He turned the page.
The second entry made him pause: *The Thoughts of Evil*.
The illustration showed a shadowy figure bent over a sleeping person, its long fingers reaching toward the sleeper's head. The description beneath was more detailed:
*"An evil being from beneath that manipulates the thoughts of people, causing sleep paralysis, hallucinations, and visions about certain evil entities. Reality-bending powers are associated with this entity. It can leave marks near the head when it enters your domain, typically dark patterns around the eyes or temples."*
Aster's hand unconsciously moved toward his own eyes, remembering the dark marks he'd seen in the mirror in his dream. Could this entity be related to what had happened to him? To the plague now spreading?
But no—this didn't quite fit. The victims of the current plague had black eyes, not marks around them. And they were screaming, not experiencing silent sleep paralysis.
He continued reading through the compendium:
*The Hands of Corruption* - An entity that manifests as disembodied hands emerging from shadows, spreading decay wherever it touches.
*The Man with Secret* - A neutral entity that only affects surroundings when disturbed, appearing as a well-dressed figure whose face cannot be clearly seen or remembered.
*The Entity from Beyond* - A creature from outside reality itself, whose very presence causes distortions in space and time.
*The Sin of Underworld* - A demonic judge that appears to those who have committed grave moral transgressions, forcing them to relive their worst deeds until madness claims them.
And more—dozens of entries, each describing different malevolent spirits and creatures that had been documented throughout history. Some were well-known legends. Others were obscure accounts from ancient texts or remote villages.
But none of them quite matched what Aster was looking for. None described the entity that had appeared at the party—the man in the black suit with red tie and inhuman eyes.
The closest was *The Man with Secret*, but that entity was described as neutral, not actively malevolent. And it didn't explain the ring falling, or the overwhelming sense of evil presence, or the way time had seemed to distort.
Aster set down the compendium and picked up another volume: *Historical Accounts of Dark Magic*.
This book was more academic, less illustrated, filled with dense text describing actual documented incidents of dark magic throughout the kingdom's history. He skimmed through sections on forbidden spells, cursed artifacts, and dark rituals.
Then he found it—a chapter titled *The Cult of Evil*.
His heart began to race as he read:
*"The Cult of Evil is perhaps the most persistent and dangerous dark organization in the kingdom's history. Unlike other dark magic practitioners who operate individually or in small groups, the cult is a structured organization with clear hierarchy and long-term goals.*
*"The cult's core belief is that the current world order—established after the Dark Ages by the divine-blessed kingdoms—is unnatural and must be overthrown. They seek to return the world to a state of primal darkness, where power determines all outcomes and mercy is considered weakness.*
*"The cult operates in cells of seven members each. This number is not arbitrary—it corresponds to seven ritual positions necessary for their most powerful ceremonies. Each cell operates independently, knowing little about other cells, making the organization extremely difficult to eliminate completely.*
*"Most dangerous is the cult's ability to infiltrate society at all levels. During daylight hours, cultists disguise themselves as ordinary citizens—merchants, craftspeople, servants, even officials. They live normal lives, maintaining their cover identities with perfect discipline. Only at night, during their dark rituals, do they reveal their true nature and serve their dark purposes.*
*"Identifying cult members is nearly impossible without catching them in the act of ritual magic. They leave no physical marks. They display no behavioral abnormalities during their normal hours. The only reliable method of detection is to observe their activities during known ritual times—typically midnight to three AM during new moons."*
Aster's hands trembled as he held the book.
Seven members per cell.
The Thornwood mansion employed seven maids.
And his father—the Altar of Evil—had been living there, controlling everything.
"Wait," Aster whispered, his mind racing. "Dad was evil. That means..."
The implications crashed down on him like an avalanche. If his father had been the Altar, and if the cult operated in cells of seven, and if cultists disguised themselves as ordinary people during the day...
"The maids are the cult of evil," Aster breathed, his eyes widening behind his helmet. "All seven of them. They've been in our house this entire time."
And Lily was there with them. Right now. Alone except for servants who were actually dark cultists loyal to the very entity that had corrupted their father.
Aster's heart went tight with panic. His sister was in immediate danger, and she had no idea. She thought the maids were her protectors, her caretakers. She trusted them completely.
He stood abruptly, the book falling from his hands and hitting the stone floor with a loud thud.
The guard at the entrance turned at the sound. "Hey, where are you—"
"I have to go," Aster said, already moving toward the exit. "I'm sorry, I'll come back later, I—"
"But Commander Arac should be here soon—"
Aster wasn't listening anymore. He pushed past the guard, ignoring the shouted protests, and broke into a run once he cleared the checkpoint.
His sister was in danger. Nothing else mattered.
He ran through the streets, dodging between slower pedestrians, vaulting over obstacles, his enhanced demonic strength and speed allowing him to cover ground far faster than any normal human could. The palace fell away behind him. The crowds thinned as he left the central districts.
"Lily is in danger," Aster panted as he ran. "I need to get there. I need to warn her. I need to—"
But what? What could he do? He was a wanted criminal. If he revealed himself to Lily, she might not even believe him. She'd seen the footage of him killing their father. Why would she trust anything he said?
And if the maids were truly cult members, they would have protections, wards, dark magic at their disposal. Walking into the Thornwood mansion would be walking into a trap.
But he had no choice. Lily was his sister. His family. The only family he had left.
He would save her, or die trying.
The Thornwood mansion rose ahead, its elegant towers and pristine walls so familiar yet now seeming sinister. How many dark rituals had been performed there while he slept? How many secrets were hidden in the rooms he'd thought he knew so well?
Aster slowed as he approached, forcing himself to think tactically rather than emotionally. He couldn't just charge through the front door. He needed a plan.
But as he watched the mansion from the shadow of a nearby building, he saw something that made his blood run cold.
All the curtains were drawn. Every window was covered.
And from somewhere inside, barely audible over the street noise, came a sound he recognized from the news reports.
Screaming.
-