THE DEMON PRINCE RETURNS

The air in the Demon Realm was heavy not with smoke or fire, but with power.

Every breath burned a little. Every heartbeat echoed faintly against the dark marble walls that lined the corridors of Blackspire Keep.

Kael walked through them in silence. His boots left faint red traces on the floor, a side effect of the energy still clinging to him from the mortal world. He could've cloaked it, but he didn't bother. No one in the castle dared to question the heir to the throne.

Still, the guards bowed low as he passed. Some didn't lift their heads until he was gone. Others stared too long, curious - rumors spread fast in this place, and his sudden return would already be causing whispers.

He hadn't been gone long by demon standards three nights. But that was enough for suspicion.

Kael reached the end of the corridor, where two armored sentinels stood before the iron doors of the throne hall. Both carried pikes crackling faintly with hellfire.

One of them glanced up. "Your Highness. The King-"

"I know," Kael cut in. His voice was calm, almost bored. "He's waiting."

The guards stepped aside immediately. The doors opened with a deep metallic groan, revealing the hall.

It wasn't like the mortal castles built of stone and gold. The Demon King's throne hall was carved directly into the heart of the volcanic mountain - massive pillars of obsidian, veins of molten fire crawling between them like living creatures. The air shimmered with heat, the floor reflecting red light like blood.

At the far end sat the Demon King, on a throne made of fused bone and iron. His eyes, golden and cold, followed Kael the moment he entered.

"Son," the King said, his voice rumbling like thunder. "You've been gone longer than you said you would."

Kael stopped halfway down the hall. "Things took longer than expected."

The King leaned forward slightly. "Things?"

Kael kept his face expressionless. "There was a surge on the northern border. I investigated."

"The human border?"

Kael nodded once.

The King's expression darkened. "I told you to stay clear of mortal lands. They are beneath us - and dangerous."

"They're weak," Kael said. "But something old is stirring there. The witches feel it. So do the elders."

The King's fingers tightened on the armrest. "You sound like a priest, not a warrior."

"I sound like someone paying attention," Kael said quietly.

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. The guards didn't move. Even the fire in the pillars dimmed slightly.

Finally, the King spoke again. "You smell of witchcraft."

Kael's jaw flexed. "I was near a coven. That would explain it."

"That would explain nothing," the King said. "The last time our kind mingled with witches, it nearly destroyed both realms."

Kael met his gaze. "You mean the Bloodbound."

A muscle jumped in the King's jaw. "That name will not be spoken in this hall."

Kael stayed silent. He knew better than to push further - but part of him wanted to. His father's hatred for that name ran deep, older than Kael himself.

The King rose from the throne. Even now, Kael couldn't ignore the sheer weight of his presence. His father was massive, his armor etched with runes that pulsed faintly like living veins. Power radiated from him - the kind that could crush mountains.

"You are my son," the King said. "You carry the blood of every demon lord before you. I will not see it tainted by human weakness."

"I'm not weak," Kael said evenly.

The King's eyes narrowed. "Then prove it. At dawn, the western battalion marches against the Reapers. You will lead them."

Kael hesitated. "The Reapers are already retreating."

"Then finish them." The King turned his back. "Or would you rather chase ghost stories in mortal forests?"

Kael didn't answer.

"Go," the King said without turning. "And if you cross that border again without my command..."

He looked over his shoulder, voice turning sharp. "I'll remind you who rules this realm."

Kael bowed slightly. "Understood."

He left the hall without another word.

Outside, the doors slammed shut behind him, echoing through the corridors like a warning.

He walked fast, keeping his expression neutral until he reached the end of the hall. Only then did he exhale and run a hand through his hair.

The faint scent of witchfire still clung to his skin. His father had noticed - and next time, he might not ask politely.

Kael's thoughts returned to Seraphina: the way her magic had flared, the dagger buried in the temple wall, the mark glowing on her wrist.

He hadn't lied when he said the Bloodbound were dangerous. But he also hadn't told the full truth.

He could feel the bond again faint, like a pulse in the back of his mind. She was still alive. Awake.

And that meant trouble.

The walk from the throne hall to Kael's private chambers was long, but never quiet. The corridors of Blackspire Keep whispered voices of old demons trapped in the obsidian walls, murmuring the names of those who had fallen before.

Kael ignored them. He'd grown up surrounded by ghosts.

The further he went, the cooler the air became. The fire veins along the floor dimmed, replaced by the pale glow of enchanted runes. Few dared to walk this far down it was the part of the keep reserved for the royal bloodline.

When Kael turned a corner, a voice spoke from behind him.

"Back from your little adventure already?"

Kael didn't stop walking. "You've been spying again, Arion."

A figure stepped out from the shadows tall, dressed in deep crimson armor that shimmered faintly like liquid metal. His eyes were lighter than Kael's, a burning amber that always seemed a little too amused.

"Spying? I call it looking after family," Arion said, smiling lazily. "You disappear for three days, return reeking of witchcraft, and expect no one to notice?"

Kael kept his tone even. "I handled a border surge. That's all."

Arion's grin widened. "Is that what they're calling witches these days?"

Kael turned to face him. "Careful."

"Oh, don't be so serious," Arion said, circling him like a predator playing with its prey. "Father might believe your excuses, but I don't. You found something out there, didn't you?"

Kael's expression didn't change. "You've been bored since the last war. Go find another game."

Arion chuckled. "You used to be better at lying, brother. I could almost respect it."

He stopped beside him, close enough that Kael could smell the faint scent of sulfur and steel. "Whatever you're hiding, Father will find out. He always does."

Kael stepped forward, forcing Arion to move aside. "Then let him try."

Arion tilted his head, still smiling. "You really think he'll let you inherit the throne if you keep defying him?"

"I don't want his throne."

"That's the problem." Arion's tone softened, just slightly. "You never wanted power, Kael. But power doesn't care what you want. It only cares who's strong enough to hold it."

Kael didn't respond.

Arion sighed dramatically. "Anyway, the court's restless. They think Father's losing patience with you. Some are even whispering about... replacements."

Kael looked at him sharply. "Replacements?"

Arion smirked. "Oh, I'm flattered, truly. But I didn't start the rumors."

Kael studied him for a moment. "No, but you're enjoying them."

"Can you blame me?" Arion said with a shrug. "The Demon Prince of prophecy, the perfect son suddenly out of favor. It's almost poetic."

Kael turned to leave. "You're wasting my time."

Arion called after him, voice echoing down the hall. "When Father decides you've become a liability, he won't hesitate. You know what happened to his last heir."

Kael didn't look back. "That's why I stay one step ahead."

Arion's laughter followed him down the corridor sharp, mocking, and too loud.

Kael reached his quarters a vast chamber carved into the cliffside, overlooking the endless fire plains below. He waved his hand, and the ward runes on the door glowed faintly before fading. No one could overhear him here.

He sat at the edge of his desk, staring out the window. Outside, rivers of molten rock stretched as far as he could see, dotted by black fortresses and moving shadows. The Demon Realm was beautiful in its own brutal way raw, untamed, alive.

A faint sound drew his attention a flicker of energy near the center of the room. A cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows and knelt.

"Your Highness," the figure rasped. "I bring word from the mortal realm."

Kael didn't turn. "Speak."

"The witch survived."

He finally looked up. "How do you know?"

"I saw the temple's energy flare from the ridge. The ruins are active again. Her magic... it's unstable."

Kael stood slowly. "Anyone else know?"

"Not yet," the spy said. "But the High Circle will soon. They've sent hunters north."

Kael frowned. "Hunters?"

"Yes, my lord. They seek the source of the surge. If they find her-"

"They won't." Kael's tone left no room for doubt.

The spy hesitated. "Forgive me, but if she is what you suspect..."

Kael turned fully, his gaze sharp. "Then it's even more important they don't find her."

The spy bowed lower. "As you command."

Kael reached into his cloak and drew a coin etched with ancient runes a mark of silence. "You saw nothing. You heard nothing."

The spy took it without looking up and vanished in a shimmer of smoke.

Kael stood there for a long moment, listening to the faint hum in the air the whisper of the bond between him and Seraphina. It pulsed faintly, distant but alive.

He should have severed it when he had the chance. He told himself that every time. But something about her magic... it wasn't just familiar. It called to him.

And that made her both dangerous and necessary.