The Damned Demon

Mistshore Village was abuzz with the kind of energy that precedes grand spectacles.

A crowd, vast and vibrant, thronged the sandy banks, where not only the Naiadon Tribe and the Umbralfiends had come together, but people from around the kingdom were present, forming an uneasy alliance of spectators.

The murmurs of anticipation swirled with the sea breeze, as commoners and creatures alike jostled for a view of the impending clash.

Rumors flitted through the crowd like sparrows at dusk – some whispered of the duel as a display of the consort's newly-won prowess, others speculated it as a power play by the aggrieved Umbralfiends, a challenge to the Bloodburn throne's pride and might.

The Bloodburn citizens stood with their backs straight and chins lifted, their gazes locked with the dark, brooding eyes of the Umbralfiends across the divide.

The air between them crackled with silent challenges, held at bay only by the steely ring of armored guards that encircled the arena, their presence a silent warning.

A particularly eager onlooker, a young lad of the Naiadon Tribe, exclaimed, "They say our queen will be here! She wouldn't miss her consort's fight, would she?"

His companion, a grizzled old man with scars whispering of past battles, grunted in response, "Her being here's no surprise. But it's Vraxos who's got something to prove today. Apparently, he has to prove his worth to wed their princess. He'll fight like there is no tomorrow."

The young lad's eyes widened in worry, "But our consort isn't even a Soul Devourer, and Vraxos is...a mid-level Soul Devourer."

An amused chuckle came from a cloaked figure leaning against a tree, "Don't underestimate our consort, kid. There's fire in that one, Soul Devourer or no. And don't forget, we're on the shores of Mistshore – water douses fire, but it also reflects it. Today, we'll see which it will be."

The young lad had his mouth agape and his eyes blinking, wondering where this guy's confidence was coming from.

However, not only him but many were feeling anxious about their consort winning this spar, even if it was just a friendly one. It was a matter of their pride and respect.

They knew the royal consort was very powerful for his age and had accomplished things nobody else could.

However, Vraxos was multiple times older than their consort, and his strength was no joke.

Those who fought against him during the war still shuddered when thinking about his might.

This was a serious matter for the Umbralfiends since it concerned the marriage of their princess. They would never hold back.

As the sea roared and heaved, signifying the might of the moment, the regal party of King Moraxor, Queen Narissara, and Princess Isola, flanked by the imposing General Vraxos, made their entrance.

The sight of them was enough to still the whispers of the crowd into a suspenseful silence, their collective breaths caught in anticipation.

The Umrablfiends were brimming with pride and excitement as they deeply bowed upon the arrival of these four.

The royal display, however, was soon overshadowed by an even more majestic one.

Flaralis, the symbol of the strength of the Bloodburn Kingdom, descended from the sky with the grace of a midnight shadow, casting an immense silhouette over the throngs of people.

The dragon's presence was a show of strength, but also of grandeur, as atop its vast back were the queen and her consort, an image straight out of the tales told by firelight.

The Bloodburn citizens erupted in cheers and admiration, their spirits soaring with their queen and consort's descent.

Their love and support were palpable, washing over the pair like the warm winds of their homeland.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the arena, Narissara's features twisted slightly in displeasure.

The display was impressive but stoked the embers of resentment in her heart.

She gestured sharply, her fingers cutting through the air for Vraxos to step aside. The general moved, his frame a silent sign of his obedience and strength.

Narissara's voice was low but carried a weight that matched the sea's rumble, "Vraxos, the blood of our ancestors courses through your veins, and today, their eyes gaze upon you from the Seven Hells. Failure is a luxury you cannot afford. Our people's pride, our lineage's honor, it all rests upon your shoulders, more than you think," Narissara hadn't let anybody else know about Isola's affair with Asher.

She couldn't risk such news getting out, for she was confident who was going to win this duel.

Vraxos's expression flickered briefly as he bowed his head.

But then he looked up with a hardened expression, his eyes glinting with resolve, "I will not fail, my queen. The honor of our bloodline, the pride of our people—I will defend it with every breath."

Moraxor and Isola looked at Narissara and Vraxos, having some discussion afar.

Both of them didn't have to think much to know what they were talking about.

Isola's voice was a soft murmur as she put forward a thought that had been a thorn in her heart, "Father, are you unhappy with... with how I feel about Asher? You can tell me the truth," she said, her smile bittersweet.

Moraxor's shoulders slumped slightly, his regal bearing weighed down by memories of the past.

His eyes closed, and when they opened, they held a pain that was palpable, "My daughter," he began, his voice a low rumble of sorrow, "I have not been the father you deserved. Our people, our prophecies, our desperate situation... I let them blind me. I've seen you as the key to a future, and not as my child, my precious girl."

Isola's head dipped, a curtain of hair shadowing her face.

Moraxor's confession struck chords within her, resonating deep in her heart. Even though she knew it, hearing it from him didn't lessen the pain.

"I kept distance," Moraxor admitted, "because I was afraid. Afraid that I would grow to love you too much, and that love would... would make me falter. Would make me selfish enough to wish you away from your destiny."

A silence lingered, filled only by the distant cheers and the sea's song.

"But when the day came and went, and you remained," Moraxor continued, his voice catching, "I realized how much I had lost, how foolish I was. I want you to be happy, Isola. Truly happy. That is the future I wish to see, one where my daughter lives, loves, and smiles as she wishes."

"Father..." Isola's voice broke as she lifted her head, her eyes glistening with emotion, "I never knew..."

Moraxor reached out, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, his hand came to rest upon her shoulder—a gesture of comfort, of a connection long neglected.

"Nor did I, my child. Nor did I. But I see you now. Not the prophecy, not the future. Just Isola. My daughter."

Isola's chin quivered as she could feel the warmth in his eyes seeping into her soul.

Her father's warmth, which she had yearned for ever since she was a small girl, finally embraced her.

"I cannot undo what's been done," Moraxor said, his voice a steadfast anchor amidst the sea of noise, "but I can ensure that from this day forward, I do what is right by you. All this time, you lived and fought for our future. Now it's time you fought for yours."

Isola's lips curved into a tender, sad smile, appreciating the effort in his admission, "Thank you, Father. That... means more than you can know."

Her eyes wandered to the distant figure of her mother, "I just wish mother could understand."

Moraxor followed her gaze, a complex emotion flickering across his face as he caught Narissara's brief, sharp glance, "Your mother... she has walked through fire and emerged scarred in the past. She has seen depths of sorrow that she keeps hidden behind those eyes of hers. It may take time for her to come to terms with certain truths," he paused, his voice lowering, "but worry not, Isola. Give her time."

Understanding dawned in Isola's eyes, and she nodded, taking in his words with the gravity they deserved.

She then raised her gaze and asked with a curious look, "About Asher…What do you personally feel about him?"

Moraxor narrowed his eyes as he looked at Asher standing afar. He let out a grunt and said with a piqued look, "I want to punish him for laying his hands on my daughter without even marrying you."

Isola winced as she saw his expression.

Moraxor's expression relaxed as he added, "But…he made my daughter happy. I have never seen you smile until now whenever you talk about him. Your face has always carried the burdens of our people and our past. But now you finally look free. So I can forgive everything he did," Moraxor said with a warm gaze, making Isola's eyes glisten with warm emotions as she suddenly hugged him, "I love you, father, and I promise…I won't let you down."

"Oh…" Moraxor had a surprised look as he blinked his eyes, not expecting her to suddenly hug him. He hadn't shared a hug with her ever since she was a small child.

But now it felt like he was reliving those times, holding her small frame in his embrace. Even after she had grown up, she still felt like a baby in his arms.

His eyes hardened by the years softened as they became glistened with unshed tears.

His arm was raised to place his hand against the back of her head as he said softly, "I love you too, my child, and I know you have never let me down and never will."

Narissara, who had finished instructing Vraxos, looked to the side to see a surprising sight of a father and daughter embracing each other.

She could feel the warm aura surrounding them, and for a brief moment, her eyelids drooped under the weight of certain emotions. But then her expression hardened as she walked away.

As the drum resounded again, signaling the imminent clash, Moraxor inclined his head towards the arena they had set up.

"It's time. Your place is among the spectators now. Your presence is needed there. It will give him strength," he said, gently ushering her toward her seat.

Isola nodded as her lips formed a heartwarming smile.