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Chapter Four: Possession
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2026-03-17 08:57:48The taverns of the lower city were always loud.
Even from the heights of the citadel, the noise sometimes drifted upward through the night—music, laughter, drunken arguments. The sounds of demons living without restraint. Vaelreth had not stepped inside one in centuries. But tonight… His thoughts drifted there. Cassian returned to the throne room long after midnight. The king did not look at him immediately. “What is it?” Vaelreth asked. Cassian hesitated. “The executioner.” That was enough to pull the king’s attention away from the window. “What about him?” Cassian chose his words carefully. “He spends time in the lower districts tonight.” Vaelreth leaned slightly against the throne. “Yes?” “He is not alone.” Silence filled the chamber. The king’s expression did not change. “Explain.” Cassian continued. “There is a man. A mercenary who frequents the taverns. His name is Marcus.” Vaelreth said nothing. But his claws tightened slightly against the throne’s armrest. — Far below the citadel… Adrian sat in the corner of a crowded tavern. The air smelled of smoke and cheap liquor. Marcus sat across from him, leaning back in his chair with the casual confidence of a man who feared very little. Marcus was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair tied loosely behind his head and a scar running along the edge of his jaw. He had been watching Adrian all night. “You’re quiet,” Marcus said. Adrian took a slow drink from his glass. “I usually am.” Marcus smirked. “That’s what makes you interesting.” Adrian didn’t respond. But he didn’t leave either. Marcus leaned forward slightly. “Tell me something.” Adrian glanced up. “What?” “Is it true?” “What?” “That you’re the king’s executioner.” Adrian shrugged. “Yes.” Marcus let out a soft whistle. “That’s a dangerous job.” Adrian set the glass down. “They all are.” Marcus studied him for a moment. Then he smiled faintly. “Well,” he said. “Tonight you’re not working.” Adrian’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. Then he stood. Marcus followed without hesitation. — The room above the tavern was small. Barely furnished. A single bed near the window. The candlelight flickered softly against the walls as the door closed. Marcus laughed quietly as he leaned against the wall. “You’re still not much of a talker.” Adrian removed his gloves slowly. “No.” Marcus stepped closer. The distance between them disappeared quickly. A brief touch. A hand brushing against Adrian’s neck. A quiet laugh. Nothing tender. Nothing permanent. Just warmth. Just distraction. A fleeting moment between two men who lived dangerous lives. Later, Adrian lay on the edge of the bed staring up at the ceiling. Marcus rested beside him, half asleep. The room was quiet except for the distant sounds of the tavern below. Adrian closed his eyes. For a moment, the world felt simple. But far above the city… Inside the citadel… The Demon King sat awake. Cassian stood nearby, having delivered the rest of his report. Vaelreth’s golden eyes were darker now. “He is human,” the king said slowly. “Yes.” “Humans seek comfort.” Cassian said nothing. Vaelreth leaned back against his throne. Yet despite the calm tone of his voice, something unfamiliar twisted quietly in his chest. A thought he did not like. The image of Adrian beneath someone else’s touch. The king exhaled slowly. “Leave it.” Cassian bowed his head. “As you wish, my king.” But Vaelreth’s gaze drifted once more toward the distant city lights. And though he gave no command… His thoughts remained fixed on the human who carried his blade. Watching. Waiting. Observing. Because something deep within the Demon King had begun to shift. And ancient creatures did not like losing control of what fascinated them.
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