******Author's POV
The night of the Banquet of Blood—or as the witches called it, the Banquet of Shadows—had finally arrived.
The demon realm was alive with feverish energy. The grand hallway of Kael's castle gleamed with obsidian walls laced in crimson veins of light that pulsed like living things. Hundreds of demons, nobles, and warriors from the highest clans stood assembled in the massive chamber. The air was heavy with anticipation and pride.
Dark chandeliers dripped with molten gold, their flames casting flickering shadows across the crowd. Music drifted through the air—low, haunting, and rhythmic, echoing like a heartbeat through the vast hall. At the center of it all stood a massive throne carved from blackstone, adorned with rubies that shimmered like drops of blood.
But their king wasn't there yet.
Kael was still in his chamber, alone.
He stood before an ancient mirror framed in silver bones, its glass swirling faintly like mist trapped inside. His reflection looked back at him—pale, unreadable, but with something dark simmering behind his eyes.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his voice, low and steady, broke the silence.
> "I don't know what happened to me yesterday," he murmured, his gaze locked on the mirror. "I've never fallen deeply asleep before. Not once. Something isn't right."
The mirror rippled.
A soft, feminine voice emerged from within—smooth as silk, but laced with malice.
> "Don't you think it's the work of those witches?" the voice cooed. "They probably know about your plans already…"
Kael's expression hardened. He shook his head slowly, his black hair brushing against his collar.
> "Impossible," he said firmly. "I've been careful. Too careful. Ellis and her kind can't know. They wouldn't dare interfere."
The mirror gave a quiet, sinister laugh, a sound that slithered through the air like a whisper of smoke.
> "You underestimate them, my king. They've always meddled in things they shouldn't."
Kael's jaw tightened. His crimson eyes flashed, but his voice softened into something almost… reverent.
> "Don't worry," he said, brushing his fingers along the glass. "Everything ends tonight. I'll finally free you today."
There was a pause. Then the mirror's voice purred in delight.
> "I can't wait."
A small smile tugged at Kael's lips—cold and emotionless. The mirror flickered once, and then the reflection twisted into the faint outline of a woman's face, ancient and beautiful, with eyes that glowed faintly gold.
Then, silence.
Kael turned away, his cloak sweeping behind him like liquid shadow. "It's time," he muttered—and left his chamber.
---
Meanwhile, in the Witch's Realm…
The air was tense in the grand throne room of the witches' citadel. The towering marble pillars flickered with veins of purple energy, and at the center stood Ellis, pacing back and forth, her brows furrowed deeply.
Vaelthor leaned casually against one of the pillars, watching her with mild annoyance and curiosity. His usual smirk had long vanished.
"Ellis," he said finally, his voice echoing slightly through the hall, "you've been pacing for the last ten minutes. You're going to wear a hole through the floor. What's wrong with you?"
Ellis stopped abruptly, her silver robes swaying around her. Her hands were clasped tightly, her knuckles white. She looked like someone fighting a war inside her own mind.
"I made a mistake," she whispered, almost to herself.
Vaelthor straightened, his crimson eyes narrowing. "A mistake? With the spell we cast?"
Ellis shook her head. "No… not that." She exhaled, her voice trembling faintly. "All this while, I've been warning Harper about the Banquet of Shadows—but I never told her about the curse Ravenna placed on that night."
Vaelthor frowned, his curiosity piqued. "Curse? What curse?"
Ellis turned toward the throne, her gaze distant and heavy. The dark sigils on her arms pulsed faintly as she spoke.
"Ravenna… she was a witch of ancient power. During the last Banquet of Shadows, she performed a dance so powerful it nearly tore the veil between realms. When she died, her spirit cursed the dance itself. The curse said that whoever completes the dance of shadows she began will bring about catastrophe—massive bloodshed, and the end of balance between demons and witches."
Vaelthor's lips twisted slightly, his tone casual but his eyes dark. "Then why worry? Nobody knows the complete dance, right? Even the witches only have fragments of it."
Ellis turned sharply toward him. Her face was pale, her expression haunted.
"It would be fine… if that were true."
Vaelthor tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
Ellis hesitated for a heartbeat—then said quietly, "There's something I've been hiding. From everyone."
The silence that followed was heavy. Vaelthor's usual playfulness faded completely.
"Go on," he said, his voice low.
Ellis looked down, her fingers trembling slightly as she whispered, "Harper… is my daughter."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop.
Vaelthor's eyes widened. The air around him darkened as his power reacted instinctively to his shock. "What?" he said in disbelief. "Your daughter? How—why didn't you—"
Before he could finish, the sharp sound of shattering glass sliced through the air.
Both of them turned toward the sound.
At the edge of the throne room stood Natalie, her eyes wide, a glass goblet slipping from her hand and shattering on the marble floor. Her face was pale, disbelief carved into every line.
"Natalie…" Ellis breathed, her heart sinking. "I—"
But Natalie said nothing. She only stared at her mother in shock, her voice barely a whisper as the words left her lips—
> "What… did you just say?"
Ellis froze, the truth hanging heavy and irreversible in the air.
Vaelthor took a quiet step back, his gaze shifting between them, realizing he had just walked into something far more dangerous than any curse or spell.
The room was silent—except for the faint hum of ancient magic vibrating through the walls, as if the realm itself was holding its breath.
And far away, in the demon palace, the first haunting notes of the Dance of Shadows began to play.