Daemon, Nyxtriel, and Toni walked through the grand double doors of the casino, each masked, dressed to blend with the crowd. The soft hum of violins echoed from the high, gold-trimmed ceilings. Velvet carpet cushioned their steps, and chandeliers glowed like bottled starlight overhead.
Toni trailed slightly behind, scarf tight around his stitched mouth, his eyes hollow and red-rimmed from the pain. Every breath was a shallow, muffled wheeze.
Two guards at the entrance raised their hands.
"Halt."
Without a word, Toni fumbled out the invitation card. His hands trembled as the guards inspected it under the lamplight. A brief nod followed, and the trio was waved through.
Daemon's eyes roamed the interior. The casino wasn't just large, it was a palace of greed. Gold fixtures glinted at every corner. Nobles lounged at ornate tables, drowning themselves in wine and vice. Servants moved like clockwork, attending to their whims. Laughter mixed with the sound of coins exchanging hands.
Nyxtriel, still adjusting to human form, leaned close.
"There are so many humans."
"I can see that," Daemon replied, his voice calm but sharp. "And somewhere in this pit of luxury... is the king."
His gaze cut toward Toni.
"Well, show me."
Toni, still mute, simply raised his hand and pointed across the room, toward a grand staircase guarded by armored men. Daemon gave a slow nod, leading them closer.
Two more soldiers flanked the stairs, but once they saw the invitation, they said nothing — only guided the three of them toward a velvet-draped hallway leading to a different chamber.
The deeper they went, the stranger the air became. Wealth soaked the walls, the scent of perfume and polished silver clashing with something Daemon knew too well deception.
Nyxtriel whispered, "Father... this place. It feels off."
Daemon's eyes narrowed.
"This isn't just gambling. This room's for something else."
As they reached the end of the hall, double doors swung open to reveal a private auction lounge. Nobles, merchants, and cloaked dignitaries sat in plush chairs around a grand stage, waiting.
The host stepped onto the platform, dressed like a serpent in human skin.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome," his voice slid over the room like oil. "Tonight, I present only the rarest treasures for the eyes and pockets of the worthy."
Daemon sat back, arms crossed, his crimson gaze sharp beneath the mask. He wasn't here for gold, nor trinkets. He wanted faces. Names. Secrets. And most of all the fragment.
Nyxtriel sat by his side, observing everything like a silent predator.
That's when the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavy, the chatter cut short. The nobles rose, almost instinctively, like sheep bowing to an unseen wolf.
A figure had entered.
Tall. Masked. Draped in black and gold. His steps were slow, deliberate, and the room bent around him like even the walls knew who he was.
Nyxtriel tilted her head.
"Why are they standing for him?"
Daemon's lips curved into a sharp, knowing smile beneath his mask.
"That's no noble," he muttered. "That's the king."
He shifted his gaze to Toni, catching the boy sweating beneath his scarf.
Daemon leaned back against his chair, voice low enough for only Nyxtriel to hear:
"The game just started."
Daemon stood from his seat, his gloved hand clamping onto the back of Toni's neck like a leash.
"Move," he whispered.
Toni flinched as Daemon shoved him forward, steering him across the room like a lamb toward the butcher. The VIP section sat apart from the gambling crowd, a raised platform with velvet curtains and iron-wrought lamps burning soft yellow light.
At the center, surrounded by sharp-suited strangers, sat a man in a black-and-gold mask,the king himself. His posture was easy, relaxed, but the cold sharpness behind his stillness spoke volumes. This was a man used to control. A man who never needed to raise his voice to be obeyed.
Daemon paused a few feet away, fingers tightening around Toni's neck.
"Look there," he muttered low and cold. "You want to live? Earn it. Go greet him — make your move."
He shoved Toni forward.
Toni staggered, his legs weak, his breath shallow behind the scarf masking his ruined mouth. His thoughts raced.
—This was it. The moment.
The king had paid him once before, for stories about the prince. If he just pointed Daemon out now — if he exposed him, right here, in front of all these wolves in silk — there'd be no escape for him. The prince would be dead. Justice for his grandfather, for his sister, for the blood soaking the floor back at the inn.
And the king would reward him. Maybe even more than before.
His eyes flicked backward, catching Daemon's gaze. Nyxtriel stood silently at the prince's side, her hands folded, her expression emotionless — but her crimson eyes gleamed like a blade half-drawn.
Toni felt the sweat trickle down his back.
No... this was his only chance.
His trembling fingers slowly reached up to the stitched scarf, gripping the rough, bloodied thread still sewn into his flesh. His breath hitched.
And then he yanked.
"AAAAGGGHHHHHH!"
A raw, wet, ripping sound split the silence. The thread tore from his mouth, tearing flesh as it went. Blood poured, his scream sharp and ragged.
The entire room turned.
"Did you hear that?"
"Is that young man over there"
"Oh my....is that blood?"
Glasses paused mid-sip. Dice froze mid-roll.
The king himself tilted his masked head slightly, observing the boy's outburst like one would study a wounded stray.
Toni's chest heaved, voice shaking but clear now, even through the pain.
"Your Majesty!" he shouted, voice hoarse but rising. "It's him! The prince! The one the rumors spoke of — he's here!"
The room fell into absolute stillness.
The air in the casino had gone still ,even the music had stopped, and the weight of every gaze pressed down on Daemon like stone.
"You mean the prince of Varyndor?" the king's voice cut through the silence. Smooth. Curious. But there was something sharp buried beneath it. His masked face tilted toward Toni, eyes narrowing at the boy's torn mouth and blood-slick lips.
"But... what happened to you, boy? You look like you've crawled out of the butcher's block."
Toni stumbled forward, clutching his side, his voice shaking.
"Yes! Your Majesty ,he killed them ,he killed my family and forced me to bring him here please, Your Majesty, help me—!"
A sudden flick of silver.
The glint of a blade buried itself deep into Toni's stomach before the last word could leave his mouth. His body jolted, blood filling his throat as he stared down in horror.
A kitchen knife. One he recognized.
His grandfather's kitchen knife.
Slowly, weakly, he turned his head.
Daemon stood a few steps away, wiping his gloved fingertips on a silk handkerchief, an easy, quiet smile playing on his lips.
"Ah," Daemon sighed, voice light, "my hand slipped. Guess I'm still working on my control."
Toni's body crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, his life spilling out with the last of his breath.
The room shattered into chaos.
"INTRUDER!"
"Protect the king!"
"Shields up — form the line!"
Swords flashed free. Crossbows clicked into place. The king's personal guards moved like wolves, forming a wall around their masked ruler, weapons raised and steady.
Nyxtriel's voice, sweet and cold, whispered at Daemon's side.
"Father. Shall I kill them?"
Daemon didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked toward the king — calm, thoughtful. This had all played out exactly as he'd expected, except for one thing.
Before he could give the order, a sharp, slow clap broke the tension.
The king rose from his seat, removing his gloves one finger at a time, his applause measured and deliberate.
"Well, well... the infamous Prince Daemon. I must admit, I never imagined you'd deliver yourself to my doorstep."
He raised a hand, palm open — signaling the guards to lower their weapons.
"Stand down. I believe our guest deserves a proper welcome."
The soldiers hesitated, confused, but obeyed. The king gestured smoothly toward the grand doors at the back of the chamber.
"Come, young prince. Let's talk somewhere... more private. I've waited a long time to meet you."
Daemon tilted his head, his smirk widening.
"Well," he murmured, "wasn't that polite of you. Lead the way, Your Majesty."
And as the guards slowly parted, Nyxtriel followed at his side, her eyes glowing faintly, whispering only to him.
"You planned this all along, didn't you, Father?"
Daemon chuckled under his breath.
"Of course. You don't step into a lion's den without knowing how to make the lion bow."