Creaaaak.

Phoebus pushed the heavy doors open, revealing the grand throne room of marble. Decorated columns framed the chamber, spaced regularly, lined up in parallel to the throne room’s side walls. Through tall windows of the hall, one could see the soaring peaks of mountains covered in nebulous, mystic mist. Their palace stood at dizzying heights, an altitude they deemed fit for beings such as them.

Relaxed on her throne, fashioned from the Dragon’s impervious scale, was the veiled Minerva. Her eyes prudently watched Phoebus as he entered the hall step-by-step. Her mouth curved to a cautious frown upon seeing his expression. It was unexpected from someone so steadfast and confident as this man. It was an expression of nervousness.

Without missing a beat, Phoebus kneeled before the veiled woman, right knee and fist on ground. His eyes remained glued to the floor as his mouth opened.

“Greetings, Lady Minerva. I return from my mission bearing… unexpected news. I’m afraid to say it wholly differs from our expectations.” A rare subduedness tinted the whole of his speech.

“I see. Then spare me the pleasantries and tell me of this news,” she said as she tapped her finger rhythmically on her throne.

“The boy we saw, and the one I pursued, was truly the Demon King’s inheritor, but he is… how shall I say … incomplete. He is not in full possession of the Factor, and the quality of his power happened to be weaker than expected. After my encounter with him, I had to deduce he was no enemy.”

“...Go on, continue explaining yourself. Why have you deduced such, Sir Phoebus?” she asked.

Finally, Phoebus looked up, making eye contact with the woman on the throne.

“It is with the help of my eyes that I have decided so,” he said, pointing at his gray irises. “My eyes saw that he spoke undeniable truth. And the truth happens to be that he is not the so-called ‘ringleader’ we have been looking for. In fact, there is no ringleader. This recent chaos of demonic beasts… the source of it has been the fragmentation of his original power, not by a guidance of a higher will. It was not intentional.”

“Fragmentation?” Upon hearing Phoebus’ words, Minerva closed her eyes in contemplation. “If I recall, something like that has never occurred in their transfer of power. Clashing wills, yes, but never such a fragmentation. Curious. So, does that mean…” Her words trailed off.

“Yes. Those demonic beasts are, in a manner, fellow inheritors, though as beings of beastly nature, they lack the intelligence and will to be true inheritors.”

“Interesting.” She spoke every syllable slowly. “Then that explains more of their undying nature. But, please, continue on with the reasoning of your deduction.”

“Of course. Beyond his lack of power, my eyes couldn’t help but see that he was not what we purported him to be. The original will was gone. It would be unjust to carry on previous enmity, in my mind. In fact, he could become an invaluable ally to us. It seems he can slay the demonic beasts for good by inheriting their power. With him as King over his people, in this age, the demons’ powers might aid in the Dragon’s awakening, once more, as unparalleled under the heavens.” With every sentence, the pace of his words grew more rapid and hurried.

“So where is this boy, then? Why have you not brought him here if you thought so?” The question echoed through the room with heavy weight. They brought Phoebus to silence. “Well?”

“There were… further unexpected complications. And an extra actress who interrupted the stage.”

***

The moon shone over a wasteland rife with scars, craters caused by the power of Phoebus’ divine arrow. Two figures stood under moonlight, face to face. A clash between two higher beings. Standing a distance from the two was a little girl, watching intently, curious, but fearful.

“So, you say, he intends to ‘right his wrongs’?” Phoebus asked the adolescent-looking girl in front of him. On her back she carried, with one arm, an unconscious white-haired boy, deep in sleep. “What a finding… And your words are fortunately true, it seems. For our good… no, for the common good of the world itself, you must hand him over to me.”

Shara’s eyes narrowed cautiously.

“Now, now, Lord Phoebus, that was not our deal, was it? The promise was for me to tell you the aims of my companion so that you may leave. And I have told you, but yet you are still here, for one reason or another. I wonder… Is the justice you swear to uphold with your name as hollow as to forget this simple promise?” she said sharply.

“This small, insignificant promise? Yes, such a promise is nothing when so much good could be done from breaking it. That boy, I have deemed him worthy, even by my own high standards.” His hand extended out, fingers itching to take hold of the sleeping demon boy. “You must leave him to us. He shall become our Champion. On our side, he could herald a new golden era.”

His words drew out her hatred. With every fiber of her being, Shara hated this man. She hated the calculating eyes that coldly regarded Luqa. She hated the grandiose weight he dared to put in his slimy words. And most of all, she utterly hated everything the man before her represented. An immortal playing with the lives and fates of mortals like they were his own dolls.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I apologize, but my companion would rather not join your squalid cult just to be its puppet. Thank you for your pathetic little offer, nonetheless.” Her refusal was decorated with a gracious bow.

“Why? Why do you decide for that boy?” Phoebus asked, frustrated. With heavy steps, he approached the gryphons’ princess closer and closer. “What gives you the right to act on his behalf?”

“Well, you see,” she responded, looking up with defiant eyes, “even he would recognize how remarkably foolish he would have to be to trust the words of the one who almost took his life. No one with knowledge of who you are would jump into your den. I’m simply being kind enough to tell you what he would tell you. So, I beg you, Lord Phoebus, let us spare each other’s time. Leave. Now.” She emphasized his name, saying it with all the disdain she could charge it with.

“My dealings are with him, not you, Kingmaker. You are repeating your sorry tracks, once more. Treating a mortal like your own object!” His hand tightly gripped the arm with which she held her spear and twisted it aside. “Don’t… don’t get too cocky… of yourself.” The statement with which he meant to intimidate was drawn-out, broken. He had made eye contact with her. And those golden eyes of hers drew out his own fear.

“Dear. Oh dear. This false deity is overstepping to quite the degree, no?” The presence around Shara grew heavier and more oppressive. She pulled herself away from the man’s clasp. Out of primal fear, Phoebus took a few, slow, regretful steps back, almost stumbling. “Being greedy makes you look even more pathetic. Really, it’s quite displeasing. Be satisfied with what you have. We shall take care of these so-called ‘demonic beasts’, so worry no more of that matter. But I will not forgive any impudent acts on your part. And not just your part, on all of your wretched kind.”

“Y-you… what are you planning?” Phoebus asked agitatedly, with heavy breaths. Unbeknownst to him, his hand had moved to draw his dagger and pointed it at Shara. His hair began flashing gold. Power. He needed to be powerful, to show that he held the reins.

“I have no such intricately-weaved plans, unlike you thread-weaving pests.” Shara turned her back, a long, exasperated sigh of pity leaving her lips. “I simply have grown fond of this boy. For the time being, he is the companion to the journeys of my whims. And Princess Sharanna does not allow petty beings like you to interfere with her own whims. Now, excuse me, but I tire of this. Disappear into the wind.” Slowly, she began walking away, gently, in order not to stir her companion awake.

Phoebus found himself paralyzed, still at his place. In front of those piercing, golden eyes, what could he do? With a click of his tongue, he grew his wings and took to the skies, back to the direction from which he came.

***

“Uh-huh? And then? What then?” Minerva asked eagerly, her hands clapped together. She had draped the veil over the back of her head, revealing a childlike enthusiasm in stark contrast to her mature, elegant features. A rosy blush of excitement painted her cheeks. “What happened to dear Shara, then, hm?”

“I… that’s all, Lady Minerva. I departed at that moment. Our clash of words had ended then and there,” Phoebus said absentmindedly. He was more focused on Minerva’s sudden coquettish interest. It baffled him. It clashed with the prim and proper image the veiled woman usually worked to display. “I made my way to return here.”

“Oh, shame. But, that is an utter complete victory in Shara’s book, you must recognize. She repelled you with simply her words without drawing a blade. And you backed away, retreating like an undead from the sun’s light. Hoho, the shame that you must be feeling now must be crushing, indeed!”

“Lady Minerva, w-what is the matter with you?!” Phoebus had stood up, completely and utterly baffled.

“Ahem, apologies.” With a few measured coughs, Minerva regained her composure. She draped the veil back over her face, covering everything above her mouth. “Forgive me, I forget myself. What I mean to say is, while your plan may not have come to fruition, you accomplished our goal of arming us with essential information.”

“I see.” Carefully, Phoebus knelt back down to the ground. “But… What then of the demons? I cannot help but fear that deep changes are swirling underneath us, all due to the Demon King’s rebirth. If we’re ill-prepared, the currents of change will sweep us away completely.”

“Worry not. We will prepare. But…” Suddenly, Minerva stood and cast off her veil. Her black hair and gray eyes had turned into the hue of divine gold. She looked in a daze. “…For the moment being, young Phoebus, spare a watchful eye as always. But do not interfere in their matters to the degree that you did so earlier. And not so rashly. Such actions should only be done when necessary, not out of self-interest. Understand?” She spoke with a voice that was her own, yet simultaneously not her own.

“I… yes, your Heavenly Majesty.” Phoebus bowed his head further.

Minerva simply smiled before her hair and eyes turned normal once more. She stepped off the elevated throne with a yawn.

“I’m glad to hear news of Shara, once more,” she said. Her voice had returned as usual, smaller in stature and less penetrating than the commanding voice of earlier. “Thank you and good work, Lord Phoebus. Oh, and Lady Diana, I have decided, find a champion among our own. A young one with plenty of spunk and guts only the youth could have, please?” she said, turning her attention away from Phoebus.

“W-wait, what of me? Do I not play a rol–” he hastily interjected.

“Lord Phoebus, watch yourself!” Minerva yelled with a reprimanding tone. At her voice, Phoebus ceased his words and returned to silence. “The Master’s words were not even seconds ago.”

“I… I understand.”

“Hmph. Good, now then, Lady Diana?”

“Of course, it shall be done.” A gentle, cool voice responded. It came from a woman who had been standing to the side, against a wall, remaining there the whole time with subdued presence. She pushed off the wall and followed Minerva. As she passed by her brother, she looked at him with sympathetic eyes and mouthed something to him. Go to sleep. You look tired.

The two departed from the hall silently.

Moments after their departure, Phoebus finally stood. He felt a mix of dissatisfaction and disappointment. Where it was directed, he knew not. He eyed the empty throne curiously as he lost himself in deep thought. But a few seconds later, he shrugged off his tension and left the throne room as well, leaving with a long-drawn out yawn.

Sleep seemed nice at the moment to him, indeed.