Shattered Line

Chapter 40: The First King

He pocketed his hand, the other grasping the red studded cane topper. "Enough." He quieted, his gaze distant. "Far too many to recall."

"But, why? Why does he trouble himself over the King of Gods, or even Gods in general? What worth do we hold?"

"They subside his anger. Anger consumes our race whether we want it to or not. Perhaps inherent, brought about from existing, but none know the truth. As a dominating race, the Gods act as the perfect outlet. You see, without a focus point, our race would turn inwardly and destroy their own," Lucifer explained.

"Even that is not enough. The Lesser Demons prey on themselves for survival. Eat or be eaten," Asterick added.

Lucifer's brow creased and his gaze softened. He showcased the same hurt, the same pain and turmoil from their past. He tried countless times to connect Sumeria and herself. But instead, their family bond became torturous. Lucifer had picked his side. One not with her.

With familial bonds now dissolved, she could relish his support. Well, a small bit of it.

Isla nodded and cleared her throat. "I see, but I would have to think there's more to it. Other races exist, many out in the open."

"That's true, quite the mystery wouldn't you say?" Lucifer mused.

"Just another one to add to the list," she sighed and her gaze returned to the ominous door. "When will he meet me?"

"Well." Asterick chuckled before continuing, "I requested an audience when we arrived. Now it depends on his desire to meet us."

She clenched her jaw then relaxed. "So it depends on his mood?"

"Stupid," Lance mumbled. He resumed his pacing with arms locked behind his head.

Asterick grinned. "It could be worse."

A second more expired and the double doors creaked open. Smoke streams gushed forth, lessening as the chasm widened. The air morphed from acidic to musty, like freedom had been stolen.

"Earlier than I planned," Asterick declared and clapped before moving ahead. "Off we go. Let us face death together."

Isla followed his lead, entering the chamber. Balefires lined the red-carpeted path, their essence cornering the creeping shadows. But even the imposing flames weakened with height, the obsidian pillars fading to darkness. Strutted between each broad column hung vivid reds, their breath diverging, yet similar. Though the corners were frayed and the emblem faded, her sense deciphered the Demon King's court— the illustrious phantom sprouting a pair of horns.

Beyond the chamber's antiquities, posed High Nobles stood. Their garb of elegant wear, fitted their forms and defined their lines. The stoic expressions they wore warped to venomous scowls as they spotted her, a God.

She ignored their troublesome stares, instead, her gaze shifted to the room's importance. Isla spied the seated figure atop an elevated platform, his legs spread wide and arms upon the throne's limbs. He filled the metal crafted throne, his broad shoulders and arms twice her own. Crimson hair draped his shoulders and draconian eyes like a blazing inferno centered his tanned face. With ebony armor gleaming underneath the firelight and a black fur topped cloak, he magnetized his audience.

Unlike her father, the Demon King produced a contrasting effect. Instead, he annihilated all thoughts with force, destructive and dominating.

Isla straightened her posture and planted her feet. She refrained from swiping her forehead, the heat plucking moisture from her skin. Any sign of weakness could damage her success. With abysmal defeat hanging forefront, how could she abandon a potential hope?

"My King," Lucifer and Asterick greeted with composed bows beside her.

She remained stiff, her back rigid, but her eyes watched and waited for an introduction.

The King's slanted eyebrows deepened as he narrowed his gaze. "Lucifer, was it you who brought the God?" His stentorian and harsh voice resounded.

Lucifer advanced a step and addressed his question without pause. "Yes, Sire."

Isla advanced a stride, her feet acting without control, but Asterick grabbed her arm, halting her unacknowledged pursuit. His contact sprung her mind to action. Why should Lucifer take the blame? He bore no responsibility, all the blame laid with her.

"You will face a suitable punishment. Leave," he growled.

"My King, please bestow your punishment upon me as well. For I agreed to bring her here," Asterick suggested, "But Sire, at least hear her out. I'm sure you'll enjoy the tale."

"I have no desire. If you wish to stay, then watch it die."

He rose from his throne, his full height and frame before her.

Isla pursed her lips and clenched her hands. Was this it?