Miracle

Pt. 39

Days bled into a suffocating eternity for Alistair. After Lily was taken by the angel and the warlock, he became a creature of raw, unbridled fury. The grand coronation, meant to announce his daughter's return and her new power, was immediately canceled, its glittering preparations dismantled. Every invited guest, from the lowliest imps to the most ancient demon lords, was hastily sent home, scattering like startled shadows in a flurry of hushed whispers and terrified glances. Alistair, alone in his rage, shattered ancient, invaluable artifacts into glittering dust, his roars echoing through the penthouse. He bellowed at everyone within earshot, his voice a vibrating tremor that made the very walls tremble.

His anger found a cruel target in Ivy, his maid, the last demon seen with Lily before her disappearance. He subjected her to hours of agonizing torture, hoping to extract information about where they were going next. But Ivy, surprisingly, held firm, clinging to her story, insisting she knew nothing of their escape plan. She held onto that truth, a defiant spark in her terrified eyes, until her very last, agonizing breath.

At the moment, Alistair stood before a mesmerizing, yet ominous, sight: a large, glowing red and orange fireball, suspended eerily in the air, its fiery depths swirling with arcane visions. He was attempting to divine the future, to claw back control that had been so humiliatingly snatched away. "Tell me what you see," Alistair commanded, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, barely audible above the crackle of the flames.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant, and undeniably ancient voice rumbled from within the heart of the fire, causing the orb to pulsate and glow even brighter. "Ahh yes, a powerful king, who thought he would rule forever, will fail at a great battle against his own blood. The two strong powers face off, but at the hands of the one more powerful than him, he will fall, and the hellish kingdom he built will crumble. Unless... he kills the more powerful being... This is your future... this... is known." Alistair roared, an animalistic sound of pure, volcanic rage that shook the penthouse.

He lifted his hand, palm outstretched, and shot a concentrated torrent of blazing fire directly into the ethereal orb, making it instantly disappear in a puff of acrid, sulfurous smoke. He panted heavily, his chest heaving, as he began to pace back and forth across the opulent, now eerily silent, room. How dare she run away on such an important day? She had completely embarrassed him, made a fool of him in front of the entire underworld.

He would make her pay for this. She might be his heir, his very blood, but he would teach her a lesson not to mess with him. He had hoped she would help him rule, and he had even taught her some of his best, most potent fire moves with that thought in mind, pouring his knowledge into her, but that didn't seem to be in the cards anymore. In fact, it might just come back to bite him in the future.

There was a sudden, soft knock on the door before it opened, and someone walked in, closing it softly behind them. "I said I don't wish to be disturbed!" Alistair yelled, his voice still ragged with fury, not bothering to turn and see who had entered.
"Ahh, I see Alistair, not even for your old friend?" Alistair whirled around, his eyes narrowing, his anger momentarily forgotten. Standing there was his old friend, a figure of formidable power and chilling elegance.

His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, his piercing black eyes, devoid of warmth, stared down at Alistair, a subtle, knowing smile playing on his lips. He was impeccably dressed in an all-black tailored suit, a stark red tie a vibrant slash against the dark fabric. His black hair was styled perfectly, a stark contrast to his vibrant red skin, from which two sharp, gleaming white horns protruded from the top of his head.

"Satan, my friend," Alistair said, immediately composing himself, bowing his head in a deep, respectful deference. "I'm sorry for my daughter's sudden disappearance. I know how busy you are; it was an honor just to have you show up." He and Satan had been allies and friends for many long years, their bond forged in the chaotic fires of the underworld. But truth be told, Alistair was still slightly afraid of him. Satan commanded immense, unimaginable power and could be merciless and cruel when the mood struck him.