The door did not lead to a simple adjoining room.
It was a portal, opening into a hidden palace nestled on one of Velrathis's uninhabited islands.
It opened into a grand receiving hall, vast and opulent, carved from obsidian stone and lined with floating lanterns that burned with cold blue fire. The air hummed with concealed magic, thick and ancient.
"Master Tuf. Mistress Luna," greeted an elven voice immediately, low and reverent.
Rhaevenor Cloudstride, an elder elf with silver hair braided in ceremonial style, stepped forward and bowed. But as his gaze landed on the third figure behind them, he faltered.
His eyes widened. "Naelira?"
Naelira froze.
"Uncle?" she breathed, disbelief washing over her. Her voice cracked, her heart skipped. This elf, her mother's brother, long thought dead, stood alive and well before her.
He had died. Four centuries ago. Everyone knew the story, Rhaevenor led the Monster Release expedition that went horribly wrong. His name was etched into the memorial wall at Duskborn. His death had left a scar on their family.
But here he was, breathing. Whole.
"Naelira," Rhaevenor said carefully, his eyes flickering between her, Tuf, and Luna. "What are you doing here?"
"She will join us," Luna answered calmly.
Rhaevenor's brows furrowed. "Mistress…" he said, softly, a plea buried in his voice.
"She was given a choice," Luna replied coolly. "A seat on the High Council. She declined the council. No one forced her."
Rhaevenor turned toward Tuf next, searching for any hint of intervention.
"Master… Mistress… may I request a few moments with my niece?" he asked, his voice thick with concern.
Tuf gave a short nod. "Alright. The others haven't arrived yet anyway." He gently guided Luna toward a velvet-draped seat at the far end of the chamber, his hand brushing her lower back in silent comfort.
He didn't say it out loud, but Tuf knew what Rhaevenor intended. And while he no longer tried to shield Naelira from consequences, a small part of him still hoped she would choose differently.
Rhaevenor took Naelira by the arm and led her quickly out of earshot.
But before he could speak, Naelira demanded, "How are you still alive?"
The question burst out of her, breathless and raw.
"I saw the reports. You died. What — how?"
Rhaevenor sighed. "That's not what matters now. Come. We don't have time. I'll explain later. I will send you back to Duskborn."
He reached for her wrist, intending to summon a portal.
Naelira pulled her arm back sharply. "No. I'm not going anywhere."
"Naelira," he said sternly.
"I will attend the meeting. I am part of Master Tuf's party," she said, her voice steady but her eyes burning with defiance.
"You don't understand what you're walking into," Rhaevenor warned, his voice lowering into a whisper. "As long as you remain ignorant, you can still walk away. But once you know the purpose of this meeting, once you hear what's coming, there will be no turning back."
"I don't care," Naelira said firmly. "I'm ready for whatever truth I'll learn today. I will follow Master Tuf beyond the Mist."
Rhaevenor's shoulders fell. "You foolish girl," he whispered. "You were always the cleverest among your siblings… Why didn't you protect your heart?"
Naelira flinched.
"He'll never see you the way you want him to, Nelly." His voice cracked with tenderness. "You should have guarded your heart better."
He pulled her into a tight embrace, and Naelira, despite everything, broke.
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled silently down her cheeks as she clung to the uncle she thought she'd lost. Her chest trembled. "You silly, silly girl," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Their moment was abruptly shattered by a voice.
"Hey. Aren't you the secretary of one of the Demon Lord's children?"
Naelira turned sharply.
Standing a few steps away was Kaelith, the young leader of the Night Dwellers. Behind him were the other young faction leaders, rumored to be the ones considering rebellion against the Demon Lord's dominion.
But it wasn't their presence that shocked her.
It was the demon standing beside them.
"Cosmo?" she whispered, her brows knitting. But something was… off. The aura was wrong. Colder. Sharper. Lacking the warmth and faint amusement Cosmo always carried.
"I'm Comet," the man said. His voice was similar, but devoid of Cosmo's charm. "Cosmo and I are twins."
And just like that, he turned and entered the chamber where the meeting would soon begin.
Kaelith followed. Then the others.
For a moment, Rhaevenor and Naelira remained still. Naelira drew in a breath, wiped the remnants of her tears, and raised her chin before stepping forward. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, silence washed over the room.
Gasps filled the air as the gathered young leaders took in the sight before them.
Tuf lounged at the head of the room, relaxed in his chair as if he owned the world. Beside him sat Luna, regal and cold, her golden-black eyes calm yet sharp, like a blade concealed behind silk.
The sight was enough to freeze the blood in Kaelith's veins.
"Master Tuf… Mistress Luna…" Comet greeted, bowing respectfully.
Kaelith stepped forward, barely masking the edge of his voice. "Comet, what is the meaning of this?" His gaze darted between the siblings, alarm growing. "You said we'd be meeting the leader of the rebellion. What are they doing here? They're the Demon Lord's children."
He emphasized the last word with dread, especially toward Luna. The memory of her dark aura during the last High Council meeting still haunted him. That overwhelming pressure had been strong enough to shatter the elder leaders' protective shields. He and the other young leaders had believed they would die then and there.
"Rebellion?" Naelira whispered, stunned. Her eyes snapped to her uncle.
Rhaevenor's silence was all the confirmation she needed.
"You are in the presence of our leaders," Comet said coolly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"What…?" one of the younger shifters muttered in disbelief.
Tuf, still seated, traced lazy circles on Luna's bare thigh, completely unfazed by the tension in the room. His touch was possessive, intimate, scandalously unbrotherly. And the way Luna leaned into him, so casually regal, made the sight even more jarring.
"You stupid morons," Tuf said calmly, voice edged with cold amusement. "With how loud you've been whispering about rebellion… you really think you'd still be breathing if I wasn't the one pulling the strings?"
Silence followed.
They stared, unable to comprehend it. All this time, the rebellion they were secretly building, the whispers of rising against the Demon Lord, was orchestrated by one of his own sons.
And not just that.
They remembered the cold glares and constant clashes between Luna and Tuf at the council meeting. The venomous insults. The explosive tension. But here… the way Tuf touched Luna, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him… There was no hostility. No rivalry.
Only a dangerous, forbidden intimacy.
It shouldn't exist.
Not between siblings.
And yet, it did.
Tuf's eyes narrowed with amusement as he stood. "We'll wait for the other Marshalls and members before we begin."
With a flick of his fingers, a black bell materialized in his hand. He rang it three times.
Immediately, spirit nymphs appeared, ghostly, graceful beings who moved with eerie elegance. They began preparing the space like it was a royal banquet hall. Long tables appeared in neat rows. Velvet chairs with the Hydra's sigil, three heads bound in shadow, materialized in place. Wine was poured into crystal goblets. For the Night Dwellers, bloodwine shimmered with a faint crimson glow.
Naelira stood silently as the room slowly filled. More arrived, some old, battle-hardened and cloaked in shadows. Others were young, hesitant, barely past training. But all bowed as they entered. Some bore tattoos of the Hydra on their wrists, their necks, or hidden beneath.
The receiving hall swelled with voices, but Naelira could barely hear them over the pounding of her heart.
A rebellion.
A rebellion Tuf was leading.
A rebellion Luna supported.
She had never even suspected. Not once.
Her gaze swept the room again. Most of those present were demons, night shifters, and shapeshifters. Elves and faes were scarce, she and Rhaevenor were among the very few. And she understood why.
When whispers of rebellion first began, the dwarves, faes, and elven courts had immediately pledged loyalty to the Dark Tower, vowing to stay out of any conflict. They were content with the Demon Lord's rule. Secure. Protected.
But now they would learn that two of his own children were the very architects of the rebellion.
When the last of the guests finally arrived, Tuf stood from his chair and ascended the grand staircase that overlooked the hall. He held a goblet of wine in his right hand, his aura pulsing with cold authority.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, voice smooth, deep, and resonant. "Old and new recruits…"
He raised his glass.
"Welcome to the Hydra's Lair."
"HAIL HYDRA!"
The roar echoed across the chamber as the old members stood and pounded their fists over their chests in unison
"What the heck!"
Luna's sudden outburst sliced through the room like a blade, silencing every whisper, every breath. All heads turned to her, shocked into stillness.
Still seated like a queen, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her wine glass held lazily in her hand, Luna stared at Tuf with a look of scandalized disbelief.
"You actually went through with that phrase?" she asked, eyes narrowing at her brother. "Seriously?"
Tuf smirked from the top of the staircase, utterly unfazed. "What's wrong with it? It's the best secret society phrase. Powerful. Classic."
He said it like they weren't in the middle of a rebellion meeting that could change the fate of Solmara.
Luna turned to Comet, her gaze questioning.
"And you agreed to this?"
Comet, stoic, cold, unflinching, surprised everyone by… smiling.
"Yes, Mistress. We believe it's the most suitable phrase for our organization. It fits the image."
And to prove his point, Tuf raised his wine goblet high once more.
"Hail Hydra!" he called.
"HAIL HYDRA!" the crowd echoed, this time louder. Even the new recruits, hesitant moments ago, now joined in with more confidence.
Luna could only roll her eyes and wave a hand, signaling for Tuf to move on. "Fine. Continue before I start regretting my co-founder status."
Tuf chuckled, stepping forward once again, his tone shifting to something more serious, though the glint of amusement never left his eyes.
"Before we proceed with the primary agenda of this meeting, and for the benefit of our new recruits, I will now introduce the Marshalls, the highest-ranking officials of Hydra. They are the pillars of this group."
He gestured briefly to Luna. "To preserve the secrecy of our group's existence within Velrathis, we have long denied that Hydra was anything more than myth. But these individuals have been the hands behind the movement from the beginning."
He raised his voice slightly, eyes scanning the crowd.
"The Marshalls are the only ones who will receive direct commands from me and Luna. They will lead and execute all operations moving forward."
As he spoke, he called each name, and one by one, the Marshalls stepped forward and stood behind him.
"Demons, Comet and Lilavelle. Night Dwellers, Orynna and Tharnis. Shapeshifter, Ravella. And elf Rhaevenor."
Naelira's breath caught.
Her eyes widened as her uncle calmly walked forward, shoulders squared, face unreadable, and took his place among the others behind Tuf. He looked like he had belonged there for centuries.
She stared at him in disbelief.
She couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
Her entire world shifted again.
Her gaze moved across the crowd, then back to Tuf, then finally to Luna.
Luna was watching her.
There was no sympathy in her gaze. Only that familiar, enigmatic smirk as she raised her wine glass and took a sip, one brow arched in amusement.
Tuf spoke again, pulling everyone's attention back to him.
"Now. I'm sure many of you are wondering," he said smoothly, "how some of our Marshalls, officially declared dead, are standing here, very much alive."
He let the question hang in the air before answering it himself.
"Simple. They had to die, at least on record. It was the only way to ensure that Hydra's movements stayed invisible. We've been building this network for four centuries. Quietly. Efficiently. Creating bonds that stretch across all kingdoms."
He paused, eyes scanning the new recruits with unsettling precision.
"And now, you're probably asking: why? Why would we, Luna and I, the children of the Demon Lord, lead a rebellion?"
The room held its collective breath.
Tuf's voice deepened, authoritative.
"Let me clarify something right now. Hydra is not here to overthrow our father. This is not an attempt to usurp the Demon Lord's throne. Anyone entertaining that fantasy should leave now, or be executed before they contaminate our cause."
A long, eerie silence followed.
He continued, voice sharper than steel.
"Our rebellion will not take place in Velrathis. It will never threaten our father's reign. And for those of you too young to remember the Great Human War, or not even born yet, heed this warning: Do not challenge our father unless you have a death wish. You won't even realize you've died until it's already over."
He let that settle before shifting tone.
"Our battlefield… is beyond the Mist. The six human kingdoms on the other side of Solmara."
Some of the younger recruits exchanged nervous glances. Tuf smirked.
"Several of the Marshalls have already established connections there. Human nobles, merchants, and aristocrats know of Hydra's existence. They may not understand it yet, but they've tasted its power."
"And now that Father has granted us his blessing to reintroduce our kind to the humans," Tuf continued, "some of you will begin appearing publicly in human territories. But make no mistake…"
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming like a predator's.
"We are not going to wage war on the humans. That's messy. Inelegant. Boring."
"We could wipe them out easily. We don't need a war for that."
"No," Tuf said, raising his goblet high. "We will conquer them through modern magitech."
Murmurs rippled across the room.
"A thousand years after the war, and the humans still travel by carriage. We will show them real civilization."
"We will seduce them with wealth, comfort, indulgence. With Velrathian magic. We will give them a taste of a life so far above theirs, they'll beg for it."
His voice dropped into a whisper that carried like thunder.
"And when they do… we'll own them."
"We will make the kings and nobles our puppets. And Hydra, the secret behind the curtain, will pull every string."
Tuf turned to the room, his voice rising once more.
"That is our rebellion."
"To remind the humans that they are beneath us. That we are the masters. That we pull the strings while they dance."
He extended his goblet for the final time, his eyes gleaming.
"To the rise of Hydra.
To the fall of human pride."
"HAIL HYDRA!"
The chamber thundered again, fists over hearts, voices echoing like a storm.