Chapter 36: The citadel trembled
The gates to the throne chamber stood cracked—black stone veined with pulsing red lines, twisted in spirals like melted bone.
The air hung thick, charged with malice, a weight that pressed against Leon’s chest.
The army behind them was wounded, scattered, but still pushing, their footsteps echoing faintly in the bone-walled corridor.
Leon stood beside Saria and Terya, his black and crimson tunic torn, his hands trembling with the faint flicker of his magic.
The massive double doors groaned open under their own weight, revealing the throne hall—a long, dark expanse, its obsidian walls lit by veins of crimson light, the floor tiled in bone-white slabs.
At the far end, the throne loomed, a jagged monstrosity of iron and bone, its base fused with the corpses of demons and humans, their limbs faintly twitching.
Varnyx, the Demon Lord, rose slowly from the throne, towering, humanoid but inhumanly perfect—his flesh dark and smooth, four curling horns crowning his head, wings like torn parchment stretched behind him.
His eyes were molten gold, glowing pits that burned into Leon’s soul.
"Heroes," he said, his voice deep enough to rumble the stones, a mocking lilt curling the word. "So late. So small."
Leon stepped forward, his jaw tight, his magic a fragile spark. "You talk a lot for a corpse," he said, his voice steady despite the fear clawing his chest.
Varnyx grinned, his teeth sharp, gold fire flickering in his gaze. "So brave, for a healer."