Split of the Worlds

Chapter 6.1

In a semicircle, they knelt before the black throne. The demonlords who had come to make a request, as well as those who had been summoned, as was the custom. He kept them all waiting. Whether on purpose or because He had a completely different sense of time, N'Arahn couldn't say. The deep shadows that filled the Black Throne did not reveal any facial features. Only with effort and a lot of imagination could one even make out His form. At least if one dared to raise one's head. N'Arahn had no desire to do so.

The uneven red rock stabbed uncomfortably into his knees and legs, and he had propped his head on his fists resting on the ground. His horns touched the stone, while his own hair blocked his view to the side.

No other place, no other situation, would have led him to take such a position. But here, all demonlords were equally humble and none would dare attempt deception before the Lord of Hell. He only appreciated that outside His throne room and everyone would do well to learn that quickly. From the mistakes of others, of course; there was no way to make one's own then.

N'Arahn knew that only he himself had been summoned today. The other demonlords were here to accuse him. First and foremost Tazeel, of course, but the warmonger Rhisa had also come, the seducers Brega and Kollun and the schemer Heten. Those were just the ones N'Arahn had recognized at a glance, another two or three had just sunk to their knees when he entered, having already made their point.

The dialogues with the Lord of Hell were inaudible unless He wanted them to be heard. Therefore, the demonlord did not know what arguments were being made, what exactly the charge was. He had not yet been heard, and he had to think carefully about how he phrased his defense, as he would not know who might be listening in and could convict him of omission if necessary. At least N'Arahn had no doubt what the subject would be: his angel warrior.

He had not given in to Tazeel, which the latter would not accept. Now N'Arahn was to pay for his resistance.

Suddenly and painfully intense, he felt His gaze on the back of his neck. N'Arahn stood up, but kept his head lowered.

"Show Her To Me." The Lord of Hell reached into N'Arahn's mind, demanding images. Immediately, he gave them to Him: Veidja, fighting in the arena. How he pressed her against the wall as he stopped her attempt to escape. Her disgusted look when she drank his mana for the first time. Even a shred of a dream he couldn't hold back. A dream in which their entwined bodies lay together.

However, he instinctively buried other impressions: The angel's amber eyes that held him captive. Veidja's weakness when she hadn't felt sunlight for too long. How they made the pact; this moment, this secret, should belong only to him.

The pressure on N'Arahn's mind lightened, but He was still very much present.

"The Charges Are Valid. You Make No Effort To Break Her."

A pure statement, not an accusation. And yes, it was true.

"Speak." Lies would do him no good. He had to tell the truth and find good arguments for his actions. Arguments that were not based on this vague, strange, unwelcome feeling that always crept up on him in Veidja's presence.

"Lord. I do not break her, as a broken angel would be useless for my purposes. A broken angel no longer fights and my servants can learn nothing." That was not enough for Him; N'Arahn could sense it. "It will take time and patience, but I am of faith that I can make her fall. She is a warrior, and even if she is an angel, I can assess her thinking, her needs, better than most of the others here. Because fighting is in both our blood." He was still listening to him. "A seducer doesn't understand that, his focus is in a different direction. But by letting her fight, I give her what she needs. I tread carefully in all other things, yes. I can't ensnare and dazzle her like a human. I need her respect. Her trust." That was all he could say, was sent back to the line. Had it been enough?