The effort to break eye contact with the shining and massive nocturnal flower bed was titanic, as if the mere act of ceasing to see that cold light meant her own Death.

  Tristessa expected to find Madame Luchie in the same state, but it wasn’t the courtyard or its exceptional beauty that held her in a trance: it were the Twin Moons, to whom she dedicated every puff of smoke she exhaled in their direction.

  “Madame Luchie?” The girl tried again, even considering that she might have to give the old woman a little nudge to get her attention. “Is it normal for the moons to have this effect on demi-humans like you?”

  The question invited Karla to turn her head to look at Tristessa, showing that she hadn't been under the spell of either the stars above or the flowers beneath her feet at any time.

  “No, I simply like to look at them. Why?” she asked in return. “Are demi-humans like that in your world, Stranger?”

  With that knowing whisper, Madame Luchie invited Tristessa to sit next to her. An idea she had dismissed outright, fearful of the massive gray beast that lurked beneath the wrinkled skin of that old woman.

  “I’m fine, Madame…”

  “Nonsense, child! After fighting Aurelia Eramisaptor, you deserve more than a good rest. Come on, I insist.”

  Tristessa sighed. She closed the distance between them, her discomfort more than obvious to the old woman and the assassin, who made no effort to hide from her watchful gaze.

  “Is your friend going to stay there in the darkness?”

  “She’s a little shy,” Tristessa replied, laughing nervously as she took her seat and glanced sideways, at Madame Luchie's tail dangling over the side of the seat. “About your question, w-well… There are no demi-humans in my world. Or if there ever were, they're gone. They're myths and legends.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Tristessa nodded, a vivid mental image flashing through her mind of a horror movie she'd seen about werewolves. “And it's said that half-beasts transformed into their savage counterparts under the light of the single moon that orbits my world.”

  “Fascinating! It sounds much less dangerous than the pull we demi-humans feel toward our beastly selves. We aren't governed by the light of the Twin Moons, but by our raw, primal emotions,” she explained, before taking the trouble to discard the ashes from her pipe and refill it with fresh powdered leaves from a small silver cloth bag. “And in times long past, we were indeed prisoners of them.”

  “Are you talking about Old Crywolf?”

  “Yes. For centuries, Old Crywolf was a place of violence and chaos. Demi-humans like us had a bad reputation for being savages who slaughtered each other and multiplied endlessly only to kill each other again. A cycle of self-destruct, driven by bloodlust and the thrill of killing. It wasn't until the Primeval emerged and taught us to control the beast within. The [Colossus of the Primeval] was erected in his honor, and for centuries the inhabitants of Crywolf rejoiced in its eternal presence, which kept the thirst for violence in chains.”

  Madame Luchie took a moment to draw on her pipe and exhale. This time, the smoke was accompanied by a soul-burdened sigh.

  “That was, until the Shadow Queen declared war on the world. And one of her vassals, Alastor, invaded Old Crywolf and razed it to the ground, along with the Colossus of the Primeval.”

  “The Dead End King…”

  Tristessa swallowed hard after uttering that title, so significant to Nekrom’s dark history, feeling the old woman’s inquisitive gaze fixed on her. She did her best not to succumb to the pressure of those yellow eyes, watching as Vergil tried to hunt those luminous insects with his paws.

  “I supposed you managed to prevent the Mercer-Archeos heads from rolling…” Madame Luchie changed the subject, causing Tristessa to relax and lean back in her chair, giving her reason to feel a little more at ease. “What kind of magic did you use on such a spoiled brat as Aurelia Eramisaptor?”

  “You don’t want to know…”

  “Secrets, huh?” The old woman chuckled, fueling Tristessa’s discomfort. “We all have them. I hope they help you kill Alastor, eventually.”

  “…”

  A promise was a promise, no matter how Tristessa felt her stomach churning with boiling nerves under the pressure of Karla’s words. It was unbearable and frightening, almost as much as the thought that there was another Dark Lord in their sights. She didn’t want to, and she wasn’t going to run away, but…

  “I need time,” she blurted out, making the old woman sneer at her.

  “I can see that, if you’re going around promising to kill the Shadow Queen’s vassals as if it were just a stroll around this courtyard!”

  “You fulfilled your part of the bargain, and I will fulfill mine, but first I must…,” Tristessa began to explain, but Karla interrupted her, being two steps ahead of her since the beginning.

  “Slay the Lord of Forbidden Knowledge. You prioritize a witch’s family over my people… I understand that. After all, the Mercer-Archeos were the ones who took you into their home. I, too, would like to save the life of that adorable, bright child of theirs.”

  Madame Luchie finished smoking and tucked her pipe into the case hanging from her brown leather belt, along with other trinkets. She rose from her seat, followed by the worried and somber gazes of the dark-haired girl and the assassin, respectively.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Very well. I’m going to the Fireclaw Company headquarters, my kids are waiting for me there, as you may know. And I won’t leave empty-handed, child,” Karla warned her. “I may be an old woman desperate to see her nation free from the clutches of evil, but I’m also a merchant, and I must protect my interests. I told you I would make you keep your word, so… To make sure you don’t forget your promise, I’ll take your aracross with me.”

  That decision hit Tristessa like a bucket of cold water.

  “No! You won’t take Vergil!” she roared, leaping to her feet to face Madame Luchie, despite the fear instilled in her by that stern, veteran gaze, thirsting for revenge. Mentioning the lesser demon’s name made the beast itself want to go to her, but the old woman’s bloodthirsty presence stopped him in his tracks. “I made you a promise, didn’t I?! Isn’t what I’ve accomplished enough to earn your trust?”

  “Are you out of your mind, child? Your accomplishments have been kicking the ass of a petulant she-dragoon and getting under some witches’ skin. Not to take anything away from you, but your goal now is the Great Evils: you’ve barely begun to climb a mountain that reaches all the way to the clouds.”

  Karla took several steps toward Tristessa, cornering her between herself and the stone seat. There was no hostility in those quasi-human eyes, nor in the way she squeezed her shoulder, as if to subtly tell her there were no hard feelings between them.

  “You came into this world with nothing in your hands, didn’t you? You acquired some allies and the aracross I gave you. Since I can’t take someone against their will, the lesser demon is the only leverage I have to ensure you keep your word.”

  “It’s not necessary! I swear I…!”

  But the squeeze on her shoulder suddenly intensified; the old woman's bony fingers dug into her skin, hurting her. Enough to silence her and make her writhe on the spot.

  “Child, you clearly don't understand the magnitude of what it means to claim you're going to kill one of the Great Evils. Why do you think they've been spreading misery and suffering in our world for five hundred years without anyone being able to stop them?” she asked, her voice corrupted by bestial sounds, overlapping and enveloping Tristessa's soul in pure terror. “You'll know, in due time... I hope that by then you'll be ready and won't regret your promise. And if you do, you'll learn that Alastor and I may have one thing in common.”

  “...excuse me, is there a problem?” Vektra's sinister voice was heard behind Madame Luchie, who did not break eye contact with her business partner even in the face of the hidden threat of a Wraith.

  “Back off, girl, unless you want me to smash your pretty mask to pieces along with your skull.”

  “You won’t do such a thing if I’m faster and pierce your heart first, beast-woman.”

  The tension in the air had skyrocketed. The almost supernatural beauty of the pale garden was marred by the violent bloodlust that Tristessa felt emanating from both women. One move, one misstep, and someone would die, with no Imperial guard close enough to stop the conflict.

  “Oh, there you are.”

  But fortunately, someone was coming straight toward them. Someone with far more authority than anyone else in End-World, even the Lady of the Dominion.

  “Are you ready, Madam Luchie?” Elegant, regal, and leaning on his thaumaturgical staff, Jonas Youngblood had arrived to personally escort his guest to the carriage that would take her to her chosen destination. A small gesture that could hardly compensate for the harm done at the hands of the witches. “Oh, pardon the intrusion. Is something the matter?”

  Madame Luchie’s bestial eyes conveyed a final, silent message to Tristessa’s gray eyes, one that could be interpreted in a thousand different ways, before the connection was severed.

  Whether it was meant as support or a threat, Tristessa understood it only one way: they would be waiting for her in Crywolf.

  “It’s alright, my lord! I was just bidding farewell to my partner, wishing her good fortune and Valdrek’s blessings for her future endeavors.” The old woman gave Tristessa a rather firm pat on the shoulder and then turned her attention to the motionless aracross. “So, you accepted the name Vergil… Cute. Let’s go.”

  The beast howled, showing no intention of moving, its small yellow eyes fixed on its mistress with fear.

  “Vergil, I told you we’re leaving.”

  The command came with a growl and a swift display of the bestial will Karla harbored within, made manifest in the dangerous glint in her eyes.

  This made the Aracross howl even deeper in fear. Hesitant, terrified. Breaking his owner's heart, causing her to rush to him and kneel to embrace him.

  “It’s okay, Vergil… You must go with Madame Luchie, okay? It’s my fault. I wish it were different, but…I-I can’t,” Tristessa whispered, holding back tears and aware that the beast, despite being very intelligent, had no way of understanding the reason for the inevitable departure. “We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it. You’ll help me escape the Evil Dream, and I’ll throw up every now and then when you go too fast.”

  She let out a small giggle as she said that last part, just to keep from completely shattering as if she herself possessed the consistency of a salt statue. Feeling Vergil’s black fur against her fingers, soft on the surface and tough getting closer to the skin. His rapid, boiling breath and the grating of all those teeth brushing together.

  A demon whose horns had been removed, the source of his vicious savagery and inclination toward the destruction of everything around him. Reducing him to a docile, fragile being… But perhaps also elevating him with a mind no longer driven by the instinct for indiscriminate killing.

  Giving him the clarity to feel affection for his mistress, or disappointment in the third-party decision she had accepted.

  Without growling, without howling, without making a single sound, the beast moved forward to escape Tristessa's embrace. He didn't look at her, didn't lick her face or hands as he always did. Shining among the flower lights, defeated, he submitted to Madame Luchie's will.

  “V-Vergil!” Shed sobbed and made a last attempt to appear own fortress when all that was left of hers was crumbling, falling apart. With no other choice but to bid farewell. “Goodbye…for now!”

  And thus, Tristessa's heart was reduced to blood-soaked rubble.

  “Now we are ready, my lord.” Karla Luchie adjusted her cloth scarf over her shoulder and was the first to step toward the threshold that connected the courtyard to the west wing of the castle. Followed by the lesser demon who never turned back and got lost inside the darkness of the hallway.

  Jonas Youngblood deliberately lagged behind for just a moment to seek the attention of the depressed, gray-eyed girl. He smiled at her with a pity that, strangely, seemed calculated. Precise; ready at the right and necessary moment.

  “We will soon sit down for tea and conversation, Miss Irandell. Please try to rest,” he asked. “Come with me, Vektra.”

  “Yes, Lord Youngblood.”

  Emerging from the faint veil of shadows that lingered in the few remaining corners of the illuminated courtyard, Vektra walked toward them and, as she passed the fallen Tristessa, gave her a soft, discreet caress on her right cheek. Exactly as the first tear began to fall, intercepted by that cold, rough index finger of her lover.

  Soon, Tristessa was left alone. Kneeling among the pale widows, shedding silent tears and wondering if she could have changed that outcome with a little courage to confront and overturn Madame Luchie's already made decision.

  Her passivity had decreed that departure. A sealed future that demanded progress from her, if she ever wanted to see Vergil again.