The air inside the chamber felt heavy- thick with old magic and older malice.
The demon spoke again, its voice dry and distant, as if echoing from a well.
"No one understands the mystery behind the summoning."
It began to move, slow and deliberate steps that never quite touched the ground. It circled Zen like a vulture waiting for death.
"Humans. Demons. Elves. We've all tried. We've torn open minds, dissected souls. Still, nothing."
It paused beside a suspended corpse, barely recognizable as either man or beast, its shape warped beyond nature.
"Some time ago, a rumor reached me," the demon continued. "That the humans had found a solution."
It chuckled, low and joyless.
"And if there's one thing I know, it's that humans are the most greedy and cunning creatures alive. So, we captured their 'Magus' behind the so-called breakthrough."
A claw traced lazily along the glass containing the corpse.
"Disappointing. It was nothing more than a desperate lie, born from failure. They tried to force the Tower's will… and paid for it."
It turned toward Zen, its singular eye gleaming like a wound that never healed.
"Still, from that pitiful Magus, I learned something. A device. A theory. They called it... the Resonator."
Hearing that, a chill ran down Zen's spine. A sense of dread crept in.
"They believed it could align a soul with the Tower's call. Induce resonance. Bypass its defense."
A pause. A breath that wasn't a breath.
"Of course, it failed. But I... I picked up where they left off."
The temperature dropped. The shadows stirred, leaning inward.
"I tried it over and over, so many times. The Resonator was meant to sync the soul with the Tower frequency. But souls are delicate things. They easily tear, implode, scream without sound. Humans, demons... it didn't matter. They all died."
A silence followed. One that crawled across the skin like mold.
Seeing the direction the conversation was going, Zen felt a cold weight settle in his chest. A knot tightened in his stomach, cold and sharp.
"I stopped eventually. It was a waste. Until yesterday."
It glided closer. The eye narrowed.
"The Queen summoned me. Said you're special. Said you survived Nitya. And she thinks maybe you'll survive this."
Zen said nothing. He didn't move.
He understood his fate before the demon words were even finished.
A heavy stillness settled inside Zen, as if something inside him had gone quiet all at once.
"I don't like it," the demon master muttered, almost absently. "You're going to die. I can feel it. And honestly, I'd rather open you up—piece by piece—and study what kept you alive in that cursed place."
Its voice dropped lower, disturbingly soft.
"What a pity."
So that was it.
They think if I survived Nitya, I might survive this, Zen realized. So that was it. That's why they never bothered to investigate how he survived.
They're using this experiment to figure it out.
But even he didn't know the answer. His survival in Nitya had never made sense—not to him, not to anyone. Maybe the place had simply let him go.
But the Tower?
That was something else entirely. There were no cracks to slip through in the Tower.
And he knew, deep down, he wouldn't survive it.
But he couldn't afford to die. Not now. Not while his sister was still out there.
She might be in an orphanage, but demons never going to leave her alone. If he was gone, she'd have no protection.
He'd promised their mother. He was going to keep that promise, no matter what it cost.
He knows if they want to be free, he has to kill the Demon of Dreams one day. But he is not strong enough yet.
The Tower had been his only hope. The plan had been simple: wait. Just two more months until he turned twelve. Then he could enter and fight for power on his terms.
That hope had carried him through so much.
And now it was gone.
Why?
Why now?
Why did it always turn out like this?
Why couldn't the world just leave him alone?
Was he cursed? Was he being punished?
A storm of thoughts churned in his chest, thick with anger and helplessness. But at the center of it all was her. His sister.
He couldn't let them go through with it.
If he died here, she'd be left behind. And even if she was safe for now, that could change in a blink. A demon's word was as good as the games they played with it.
He turned to the demon, forcing the words past the tightness in his throat.
"I can't do this," he said. "I want an audience with the Queen. I can—"
But the demon interrupted, brushing invisible dust from its coat with casual disdain.
"She knew you'd say that. She told me to pass along a message: 'Your sister arrived at the orphanage some time ago. It wouldn't take much to bring her here. And if you go through with the experiment, I will not touch her, even if you die.'"
The demon tilted its head slightly, as if mocking sincerity.
"She promised. In her name. Do you want anything more?"
Zen froze.
The Demon of Dreams had already broken their contract once.
He knew demons weren't trustworthy, but they didn't casually use their names to make promises.
Even if he didn't want to do it, there was no escape from this.
And yet, she could've done it differently. She could've thrown him into the circle unconscious, run the experiment without a word. Instead, she let him know. Why?
Was she trying to make him despair? To break him before the end?
No… if that was her goal, she wouldn't have made the promise about his sister. That didn't fit. This wasn't her usual cruelty.
And that, more than anything, shook him.
He didn't understand what game she was playing.
But maybe it didn't matter anymore.
He took a long, slow breath. Let it settle deep.
So… the Tower, huh.