When she opened her eyes, they were in an unfamiliar room, with small beds, divided by curtains. The stinging smell of antiseptic invaded her senses almost immediately.

Lucious shouting for someone. Mammon was on the floor, unconscious and in a puddle of his own blood.

Three short elderly men rushed in and with vigorous but precise movements took charge of Mammon. They were balding, and their heads unusually sparkling and contrasting with their fuzzy eyebrows, were too large for their smaller bodies; and they wore deep blue knee lengthened overcoats. Mara didn’t try to read what was being said between the older men and Lucious, instead, her gaze fixed itself on Mammon’s blood and the slowness with which it moistened her dress. Her hands too, were blood-stained. It warm still. So much of it everywhere. Had she ever seen this much before?

It was supposed to be hers, all this blood.

It was her these strange bald men should be tending to, not Mammon. Yet it was his blood that stained these floors.

So demons could bleed like this too…

Mammon’s fake smiles came to her, and her chest tightened.

Guilt? Sadness? Maybe regret?

One overwhelmed the other and her heart couldn’t settle on one. For such a thing to happen, how did it get so twisted so fast? The Devil’s black eyes still haunted her, confirming a realm of horrors she never believed in before. None of it could be denied anymore.

This was her fault.

Replaying the events in her mind, only snippets flashed: Leviathan’s tail coming for her; Lucious wings flapping; Mammon’s grip on her; the way he flinched in pain whilst he protected her. Rejecting it was useless as the blood slowly drying in her hands painted the hard truth. Mammon could die, for trying to protect her.

‘Mara.’

She shuddered at Lucious’ intrusion in her mind. ‘Are you hurt?’

The relief from hearing his voice embarrassed her, but she needed to feel something; something other than this crushing feeling. She numbly shook her head. She noticed the little men were wheeling Mammon away on a stretcher.

‘It’s over. You’re safe here.’ He reached for her arm. His touch was warm on her skin and made something well up inside her, but her eyes could not pull away from the blood.

‘Mara…’

‘This is my fault!’ — She blurted aloud. She couldn’t bear to hear herself say it using her mind. Tears rolled down her cheeks and disappeared into her blood-soaked dress. — ‘If I had taken Mammon’s hand when he asked me, if I hadn’t hesitated to answer your father... All of this happened because I couldn’t do it! Mammon even explained it all and prepared me for this. I don't know why I couldn't go through with it! I just… I just couldn’t believe any of this was real.’

After a moment, Lucious spoke. ‘It’s not an easy feat to face the Devil when he calls. I’m his son, and I still struggle with it for the most part. All of us here do, that is why he is the king. You’re just a human, pulled into the madness; our madness. Many others have passed out or gone mad from just one look from my father.’

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His softer tone was strange and surprised her. Then she realised that he seemed unaffected by her voice.

‘Mammon and I tried to prepare as best we could. We know my father is prone to his impulses, and he’s difficult to predict, but we didn’t imagine he would focus on you so much like that, let alone use the grey. I’m more concerned with what he will do next.’ — He seemed pensive before he faced her again. — ‘Mammon will be alright.’

‘H-how can you know?’ She asked with her mind.

He did not hesitate. ‘Mammon is a wolf warrior. They are famous not only for their fighting skills but also for their singular healing abilities. It looks bad now, but I have seen him heal from far worse.’

There was some hope. Mara wiped her tears and stained her veil and face with some of the blood.

‘I’m really glad to hear it.’ She said, but her smile was weak.

‘You can remove the veil now.’

She was too conscious as she did. Was he observing her under that mask? It felt as much.

She cringed in pain. Something boiled in her chest. There wasn’t a graceful way to do this, so she awkwardly reached inside her cleavage and pulled out the remains of the feather. It was all but charred, its ashes breaking apart. She checked herself, but there were no burn marks.

‘That too, you can throw it away. It’s served its purpose.’ He said, looking away. Then he stood and offered his hand to help her up.

‘What exactly did it do, the feather?’

‘It was a channelling tool. So long as Mammon was touching you, he would feel any incoming attacks and react to protect you. He is my servant, my blood bonds us. He will protect any part of me that is in imminent danger. Just giving you the feather without him would be meaningless since you and I are not… connected.’

They had prepared that far ahead? He was being too forthcoming. It was odd. This was the most they’d spoken without arguing. She had sensed this change in him even before the attack. It was since they picked her up for the banquet. It was almost as if he had dropping his pretences, one by one. There probably wouldn’t be a better time to ask:

‘Is that why you brought me here? To make me your servant too?’

‘No, that’s not… I…’ — He faltered, — ‘I could never make you my servant.’

He faced her until she looked away. She wanted to ask him everything, but the embarrassment that crept up disarmed her. A strange awkwardness settled. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she felt them. He’d just started talking to her without all the aggression, so perhaps if she just paced herself too…

‘Those men that took Mammon away…’

‘The elders. You would call them doctors in your world. They are masters of their craft in all the seven kingdoms. He’s in excellent hands.’

‘If it’s alright with you, I would like to wait here until they bring him out.’ She wiped her hands on her dress, but the blood was already dry.

Lucious nodded. ‘I’ll send for the attendants to bring you a change of clothes. You can shower and get changed in the next room.’

‘Thank you.’

He looked away for a moment. When he faced her again, he said: ‘What you said before about all of this being your fault…’ — He sounded like he was having a hard time expressing himself, — ‘It’s not. None of it is.’

She thought he would continue, but only a long silence followed. He turned his back to her, which struck her as odd. The tip of his pointy ears were exceedingly red again, like that time when they left for the banquet. No matter how she looked at it, he was struggling with something. Perhaps he wasn’t used to it; comforting others.

‘I didn’t expect my brother to try something.’ — his tone more composed when he faced her again. — ‘He was obviously trying to impress our father. And he is fast, even by our standards, but he wasn’t aiming to wound you fatally. He was after your blood, to taste it, but he and his tail are reckless. This could’ve been a lot worse.’

‘Wait, my blood?!’

‘He doesn’t need to, but he follows the old customs. There’s a perverse belief that it enhances one’s power. He knows you are important to me, so I guess he wanted to taste you before I could… do anything to…’

He hunched over and staggered.

‘Hey, are you alright?’

He looked down at himself and saw a small rip on the side of his waist. He reached for it and his hand came up covered in blood. She gasped as he ripped his mask off of his face and let it drop; he was deathly pale and sweaty.

Still, he tottered over to her, attempting to steady himself.

‘Don’t worry, this isn’t that seriou…’, then he collapsed.

Mara knelt down, shouted his name, but when he didn’t react, she shouted for help.

It wasn’t long before two more elders came in and rushed him away.