Split of the Worlds (18+)

Chapter 10.1

As demanded, he had shown his angel the various facets of hell. And found that behind her disgust, a fascination for the chaos and freedom offered by the Red Depths was growing. The other demonlords went all out during the visits. Some out of calculation, some out of curiosity, some out of a desire to be close to an angel.

N'Arahn couldn't tell what Veidja would decide. He had briefly tried to appear more inviting, yes, harmless to the warrior without showing weakness to his rivals. Even diplomacy he had tried, albeit very unsuccessfully.

He was who and what he was, and she knew his more jagged aspects well enough. This farce, which she wasn't buying anyway, he had quickly dropped again.

He clung to the thought that what Veidja had experienced during their last encounters had at least not visibly broken her.

It was out of his hands now. Free will. The angel would make her decision and N'Arahn could only hope that she had realized what dangers lurked behind the pretense in the Red Depths. Hah, he himself was just as much a danger, of course. And he could not offer her as much as the slavering pack in its entirety.

Over the rim of his goblet, he eyed Veidja, who sat in the ironwood chair in her plain clothes, lost in thought. He would miss that sight.

Foolish demon, that's the understatement of the millennium. It will rip your heart to shreds if you hand her over to Him for the court to play with.

Even now, just thinking about the possibility, he felt as if he was breathing in thousands of splinters of stone. Energy shot through his body as if he were about to attack. Laboriously, he forced these surges back into the darkness of a place buried deep inside him.

Whatever her decision turned out to be, he couldn't let it influence him. Ever since he had admitted to himself how dangerous a path he was on, he had struggled to contain his feelings. Every strong emotion was a danger to his self-control and therefore to his life.

And hers.

While he had initially found it pleasant to finally feel joy and interest again, he had come to realize that boredom was not the worst thing that could happen to a demonlord.

Be strong, be cold, be controlled. She's just a toy; you don't care what happens to her.

She lifted her head and her eyes met his.

Oh, darn it.

- - - - -

If she hadn't known better, this could have been a perfectly normal cycle. Well, as normal as the cycles had been since her capture.

She had fought and lost. Several times. She had bathed and tended to her wounds. She had rested, at least a little. Now: goblet, table, chairs, demonlord; everything as usual. Almost a relief after the recent events.

Sure, she had been looking for a way to escape even more than before. But ever since N'Arahn had told her that she had to make a cruel choice, he had had her under more surveillance. She had also had the impression that she could feel his presence in her immediate vicinity more often. But that could have been her imagination; her thoughts and senses were overstimulated by the impressions of the past cycles.

No, you're not giving up now. Not your fight, not the hope of freedom and a return to the White Mountain. Not yourself.

Veidja told herself to take courage. Once again. Even if she had to make an impossible decision, that didn't mean she was doomed.

In the last few cycles, she had gotten an idea of what it could mean to live in the Red Depths. What temptations and horrors awaited her there. What chances she had near the Black Throne and what chances she had here.