CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
There were 6 demons in total brought in for questioning, they sat on wooden chairs arranged in horizontal rows beneath the dim light of the dungeon.
They were not criminals.
At least, not yet.
Had Damiel considered them guilty from the beginning, this would have been an entirely different situation.
Some sat with their backs rigid, their expressions ranging from confusion to unease. Others exchanged uncertain glances, wondering why they had been summoned and what Prince Damiel hoped to find among them.
None dared complain.
Prince Damiel stood before them, his silver eyes sweeping across the room.
Kael, Roan, and Zaiel stood behind him, accompanied by a handful of generals and guards.
"Are they all here," Damiel asked.
"Yes Commander" A general said, holding the report of everyone who had left the Capital and returned, during Prince Damiel absence and return.
He began his inspection.
One by one, he walked past the demons, examining their minds as easily as one might read an open book.
Memories unfolded before him.
Journeys beyond the capital. Conversations with neighbours. Trade negotiations. Family disputes. Ordinary concerns that occupied the minds of ordinary demons.
Nothing unusual.
He continued down the rows without speaking, his expression revealing nothing.
Then he reached the final two.
He stopped.
Something was wrong.
It wasn't a concealed memory or a suspicious thought. It was an unsettling disturbance, a strange frequency that ran beneath their thoughts, almost as though something had deliberately arranged their minds to lead him toward a particular conclusion.
Damiel examined the first demon more closely.
A farmer.
Then the second.
A trader.
He withdrew from their minds.
For several seconds, he remained still.
Then he turned toward the others.
"The rest of you may leave."
Confusion and relief spread across their faces
A few exchanged glances, but nobody questioned him.
Two guards stepped forward and escorted them out.
The farmer and trader remained seated on their wooden chairs.
Damiel walked toward the farmer first.
A general stepped forward, holding a report.
"Commander, this demon is a farmer, he left Avalon several days ago and returned today at midnight."
Damiel barely glanced at the report, as he turned back to the farmer.
"Did you encounter anything unusual during your journey?"
"No, Your Highness."
The farmer answered quickly.
Too quickly.
Damiel studied him for a moment before lowering himself into a crouch before the seated demon.
Their eyes met, as he trembled visibly, trying to look everywhere else but Damiel's.
"But why does your mind say otherwise?"
The farmer went completely still.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
Then his expression changed.
Fear flooded his face so suddenly that even the guards nearest him shifted uneasily.
He looked around the dungeon, his breathing becoming increasingly erratic.
It was as though he had just realised something terrible.
Or remembered something he had desperately wanted to forget.
"He's..."
His voice broke.
Damiel waited.
The farmer's hands began to shake violently.
"He's different."
His gaze returned to Damiel, wide with terror.
"He's not like us. He's something else. Something far worse."
His breathing grew ragged.
"I've never felt anything.... like him. He's terrifying. His presence alone..."
The farmer swallowed hard, struggling to finish.
"He's not one of us."
A heavy silence settled over the dungeon, as everyone in the room looked on.
Damiel's expression remained unchanged.
"Go on."
The farmer's eyes widened further.
"He's here."
His voice dropped to a horrified whisper.
"He's here in Avalon."
Before anyone could question him, his body jerked violently.
A dark liquid spilled from his mouth.
One of the generals lunged forward.
"Quickly, come!" He said pointing to two guards.
Two guards rushed to the farmer's side as he slumped from his chair. One caught his shoulders while the other dropped to his knees, checking for a pulse.
"Commander, we need—"
"There's no need."
Damiel rose from his crouched position.
His gaze remained on the farmer's lifeless body.
"He's already dead."
The general looked up in disbelief.
"Your Highness?"
"He delivered the message he was meant to deliver."
Damiel adjusted his glove.
"He has no further use."
The words were delivered with such indifference that the generals fell silent.
A demon had died before them, yet their commander appeared no more disturbed than if someone had extinguished a candle.
Then again, this was Prince Damiel.
Death had never been enough to shake him.
He looked down at the dead farmer.
The creature had not even attempted to hide its presence.
It had allowed him to see the truth, piece by piece, until he could understand exactly what it wanted him to know.
First, it wanted him to understand how far its mission had progressed, he wanted Damiel to be actively involved in his case, carrying him along his mission,
Second, it wanted him to understand that, despite every information he will hand over to Damiel, he'll remainunable to catch him.
The message was deliberate.
I'm here. I'm moving freely through your kingdom. And you still cannot stop me.
A small chuckle echoed through the dungeon.
Everyone turned.
The trader sat with his head bowed, his loose hair covering his face. His hands rested between his slightly parted knees, his shoulders trembling with quiet amusement.
Then he laughed again.
"Well, well, well."
He slowly lifted his head.
"Prince Damiel of Avalon."
His eyes were no longer the eyes of an ordinary demon.
They burned with the unnatural crimson glow Damiel remembered from the northern fortress.
The same eyes.
The same presence.
The same ancient malice.
His lips had turned pale, and dark veins protruded beneath his skin, spreading from his neck toward his jaw.
He smiled.
Everyone in the room froze except Damiel who remained compose, every shred of doubt gone.
"I have to admit, I underestimated you."
Nobody moved.
The guards exchanged alarmed glances, their hands settling on their sword hilts.
The possessed demon continued.
"Too bad we met under these circumstances. We would have made a good team, don't you think?"
Damiel regarded him without emotion.
"You're right."
The demon's smile.
"A master and a slave, with me as your master, and you as my slave."
For a moment, the dungeon was silent.
Then the demon threw his head back and laughed.
His laughter echoed off the stone walls.
"And a great sense of humour."
Then his smile vanished.
The change was immediate.
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. The flames in the wall sconces flickered, and a crushing pressure settled over the gathered demons.
The possessed trader's crimson eyes fixed on Damiel.
"When I find what I want, I'll settle the score with you first, then make you watch as I crumble everything you've built."
His voice no longer sounded normal.
"For now, you'll be the key to finding the KEY."
Damiel's eyes narrowed.
"Is that so?"
The trader's fingers twitched.
Then his claws emerged.
Long, curved, and razor-sharp.
Every guard in the dungeon drew his sword. Kael moved forward, Roan's expression turned murderous, and several generals stepped between the possessed demon and their commander.
But Damiel didn't move.
He merely watched.
The trader's eyes rolled white.
Then, before anyone could reach him, he raised his own clawed hand and seized his head.
A sickening crack rang through the dungeon.
His claws tore through his own neck.
His head came off from his body.
It struck the floor with a heavy thud and rolled across the stone, stopping near the feet of a stunned guard.
The body slid from the chair and collapsed on the hard floor with a thud.
The whole room froze, no one was expecting that.