As King Salis descended toward the underground dungeon, one might assume he was planning every word of the conversation about to unfold—any human would. But Salis kept his mind perfectly clear. He was always rational, always composed. He chose logic over emotion, precision over impulse.
As he approached the cell where the so‑called deity was held, he noticed a soldier standing guard. The man was clad in lusterless red and black armor, helmet on, a thin slit in the visor. Red feathers shaped like a mohawk decorated the top—signifying his lower rank in the king's army. His stance was rigid, right hand resting on the hilt of his spear.
Salis felt it before he even reached the door—the magical pressure leaking from the deity inside. Even with shackles suppressing her power, it washed over him. Intense… yet strangely comforting. Familiar, in a way he refused to acknowledge.
The soldier unlocked the door. As it creaked open, King Salis stepped inside.
The chamber was dim, illuminated only by four lanterns hanging against the black ebony walls. Their glow pooled around a single, polished wooden chair placed in the center of the room.
In that chair sat a woman.
Her hands were chained behind the backrest, her ankles shackled to the legs of the chair. Her body was delicate yet fit—not the hulking build of a warrior, but the disciplined form of someone honed by nature itself. Her skin carried a light tan across her arms and legs. She wore a simple white dress and brown leather sandals. Her jet-black hair fell messily over her face, hiding her expression.
Beside her stood Theodore.
King Salis walked forward until he stood directly in front of her.
He spoke softly, evenly, as though greeting an old friend.
"Hello, Ivara… long time no see."
The woman lifted her head.
Her face was breathtaking—flawless skin, sharp features, and heterochromic eyes: one elegant gold, the other a gleaming silver-grey. Both burned with unshaken determination.
Well, she was a deity after all.
She replied:
"So… King Salis. Is that what you go by now? Pathetic. What do you want this time? Are you here to torture me for information about the deity clans and their—"
Before she could finish, the king's voice cracked like a whip.
"Theodore! Take your leave. And take the slave outside with you."
Theo obeyed immediately, leaving the room with the soldier who had stood guard outside.
Silence swallowed the chamber.
Two azure eyes—cold, controlled, and holding a flicker of hidden rage—met her mismatched ones. Ivara didn't flinch. She stared back, emotionless and unwavering.
Finally, she broke the silence.
"So getting me kicked out of my people's realm wasn't enough. Not just that—lying to me, manipulating me, sleeping with me just to get an advantage in your war against the gods… all of that still wasn't enough for you?"
Salis didn't answer at first. He chose his words carefully, arranging them like knives.
"I did not tell the gods you had a connection to the Fallen God—that is what led to your banishment and your adoptive father's execution. Nor did I tell them that you carry the lineage of darkness. That darkness running through your veins is the only thing the gods and their little minions fear. Why do you think they want you dead? If not for your bastard father, you'd have been killed long ago."
He took a slow breath.
"And yes… I slept with you so I could use my heir to turn this war in humanity's favor. I am the king. My duty is to protect the people of this city. I will do anything—anything—to keep them safe. Even if it means killing every single one of the gods."
Ivara laughed—loud, sharp, mocking.
"Your people? Don't make me laugh. You don't care about them. If you did, you wouldn't lead them to slaughter against actual gods. Humans may be strong, but they're not deities. They'll die, and you know it."
She paused—just long enough for him to inhale.
"And you think I'll let you drag my son into this war? Just because of some 'lineage of darkness'? Screw you, and screw the gods."
SMACK.
The back of Salis's hand whipped across her cheek, snapping her head sideways. A red mark bloomed instantly.
"How dare you speak to me like that after what you've done? Did you think I wouldn't find out you were pregnant when you escaped? Or who helped you?"
He exhaled slowly, frustration seeping through the cracks of his composure.
"Why, Ivara? Because of your actions… a life was lost."
Her head dipped, hiding her expression—but Salis seized her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"You're going to tell me where the prince is," he hissed, "or you'll rot here with the rats."
He released her, turning toward the door. His hand touched the handle—then he paused.
Without looking back, he spoke over his shoulder:
"Sleep tight, Princess Ivara. You'll need it for the torture tomorrow."
The door opened, then closed behind him, leaving Ivara alone in the cold, lantern-lit dungeon.