Shattered a Monarch!

A vase can be shattered. A tool can be shattered. Some warriors pride themselves in the weapons they have shattered. On occasions, at a drunken dwarven tavern, inebriated patrons boast about shattering a dragon's bone. A Monarch of a demon realm was definitely not one of those. None, in their clarity, would even dare to attempt such a claim. That is a feat impossible -- for mortals. Even for the celestials, angels or the Circle Princes. For the Sovereign of a realm has always been a force of primal nature. An existence defined by their own will.

Yet, Lyria claimed to have broken the very fundamental law governing planes. And, if it weren't for the veneer of pain amalgamated with the fear of rejection veiling her eyes, I would have been inclined to dismiss her as addled. To obliterate such a law, and survive the wrath of every realm, demonic and celestial, was unthinkable.

I pressed my fingers to my temple, swirling them in small movements, as though massaging them would relieve the frustration clawing inside my skull.

Lyria, herself, was wrecked with restrained trembling. "There are prices to be paid."

"This is inconceivable..."

"Rils." Lyria pressed her eyes closed, tremours wracking her entire body, fingers clenching hard to draw blood from her palms. "I only want a simple life with you."

My mind warred against a chaotic maelstrom of thoughts, the clogs inside spinning faster and faster. All threads falling slowly to places, bringing to light an image that I would dare not to gaze upon.

A Monarch shattered!

The Eldritch Knight's reluctance!.. and willingness! His uncanny arrival at the impossible of times. The title "Consort Mother".

"What is my relationship to the Demon Sovereign?" I asked.

Calmness like a searing blade sliced through the space between us.

"Lyria, come clean." Despite myself, her reticence burned behind my eyes.

How could she hide so much?

Fear paralysed Lyria, coursing through her heart and persisting in her throat. Tension choked her senses. "Rils, there are things...events..." Tears filled her eyes, streaking down her cheeks, drizzling with a mixture of despair and regret. "Trust me please."

"Come clean." I stood my stance. My knuckles throbbed from clenched fists.

"No, no!" Lyria grasped my hands in a feeble effort. In a fit of desperation, she tried reaching out for the bond we shared. "Please. Would you not trust me?"

"I would trust you till the desolation of the sun, and the stars, but Lyria..." My voice dipped low, barely an audible whisper, as uncertainty gnawed my bones. "...but how could I...when you are shrouded in layers of puzzle? One unravels, revealing another."

Lyria tilted her head, to look into my eyes. Silvery grey orbs gazed. No deceit, no mockery. Only a regretful loving gaze. Tears of utter sadness mixed with intense feelings of guild stained her delicate features.

"Every price is a burden. Some paid immediately. Others later, and some should be carried alone." Sorrow radiated off Lyria.

Pangs shot through my stomach, but I had to know the answer. No longer can I fathom to tread over abyss, blindfolded and with uncertain footing.

"A simple answer, just for a single question, please." I pleaded. I needed something, anything to prevent this shred of doubt lingering in my mind, to grasp and hold to the lovely image of Lyria.

At last, an agonising sigh emanated from Lyria's chest, released with great difficulty, echoing into silence. "I haven't been forthcoming with you, Rils. I would rather not recall, but an answer I cannot deny."

"How am I related to the demon sovereign?"

"Wife."

The word broke through the fog, leaving behind bitter salt trails across my mind. It sounded wrong. Not a single fibre of my being accepted it. Despite my mind could muster multiple walls of resistances, the picture began to take shape.

Of Lyria's sudden disappearance. Of her paltry living on the edge of society, away from magic, religion and power struggles, hiding in obscurity under the guise of a blacksmith in rundown places.

The intervention of the Knight of Ash and Smoke. Of his inability to step inside High-Crag Pass.

Of my strange dreams and the ephemeral tug on occasions to surreal landscape.

And of the sudden whispers, promising untold powers.

Lyria's affection for me would prevent corruption. She would never feed me with falsehoods. The festering bitterness grew in my gut, seeping into the marrow of my bones.

"I belong to no one..." I screamed.

Lyria bit hard on her lip. Regret and terror held her in thrall, etched sorrowful lines along her eyes.

"...Except you, my love."

Words, fragmented and struggled, accompanied by tears flowing from deep within Lyria's heart fell. "Even blurred, the memories haunt. Painful, vivid. Unable to escape. Lately, every moment with you, it draws near. I sense it, just like my soul withers, grows weaker."

To be defiled by a demon monarch, to wilfully claim my essence as their own, to strip me of my own agency, bleeding me into their cycle of depravity, made me sick, physically and emotionally.

The audacity of the demon monarch, to claim me as their mate, denying my own will, reducing me to a puppet existence to bolster their craving, was nothing short of sheer show of dominance, and the monarch will pay. Pulsating waves of rage swirled around me, breaking into a violent outburst at unpredictable intervals.

Lyria might have shattered the monarch, but I will enact my retaliation, and the humiliation would be a thousand-fold.

A consort of a demon sovereign!.

A realm without a monarch!!

The Wreathe of flowers that Adjuration became. No. The realisation flowed. The Crown of a Demonic Realm.

"Rils," Lyria struggled, arms snaking ineffectively to embrace me. "I know what you think, please drop the plan."

The Cambion Warlord expects an ill-equipped mercenary group, a pitiful group of souls whose bravest he already broke.

An army of a demonic realm compelled by the power of its consort would be the least of his expectations.

The Eldritch Knight slicing through his forces, appearing and disappearing at will, a scathing trail of carnage left in his wake, like a searing hot blade dicing through thinly discarded parchments.

When the horde were broken, severed like the Warlord they owe allegiance to, the proud fool sashaying on a frilly unicorn, Zelaphiel, will know not what I brought to his doorsteps.

The forces are mine to control, and I will sunder through every other realm, to consolidate my power, to put the one who sought to violate my will, and when I shatter the Monarch again, the ignominy of it will echo through every demonic realm, the celestial plane and the infinite void between.

And I will put him together and shatter him again and again. Immortality will be the Sovereign's undoing.

"Rils, please, I beg you," Lyria's sobs broke through my own veil of thoughts adorned with vengeance seething through them. "Abandon the dangerous plan."

"This is the turning tide," I answered, but could not stop the bloodlust spilling through my pores. "I could claim my advantage."

My senses were assaulted with burning crimson, threatening to consume me, one that Lyria nonetheless noticed. "Who am I talking to? Rils? or the Scarlet Masquerade? To my love, who made a solemn promise? or a warmonger who would break her oath again and again and again?"

Despite the sharpness in her words, the trembling in her lips, her beautiful smile still lingered. The fear could not drown out all her emotions, all what she felt for me. They shimmered clearly beneath her face, a calming aura resonating from her. Like the first rays of sunlight filtering through the mist covered lands, a golden glimmer laced with soft petals of rose diffused her well-defined features, exuding charm that, in all honesty, she did deserve and more.

"Tell me, beloved, who do I fight for? Not to rule, not to dominate over, but to survive. To eke a living, for us."

"Decades, and centuries back, I offered a perfect solution." Lyria's head tilted slightly, away from my direction. The dreadful sorrow plucked on strings connected to the depths of my soul. I wanted her whole, make her smile again. "To come away with me. Abandon all. A small life, You, me and Delyn. In a simple cottage at the edge of the woods. I have the skills to feed you both, to put a roof on top, and we would have lived, a simple but peaceful life. No one, neither paladins nor deities or demons to disturb our little heaven."

"Yes," I responded with a sigh. Not a deep one, but one laced with tiredness. "And I promised not to trudge down that slippery path."

"Should you command the forces of the realm, you would have undone all that I had endured through the years." Her tone was filled with emotions. Memories from long ago, still fresh on her mind, raw sentiments still oozed out. The pain of loss and solitude, her fate miserably intertwined with forces beyond her abilities, and her children lost, but her will always persevering. "Please, do not seek that power. For the power comes at a cost. Always at a cost."

"My sweet love, when faced with threats far beyond our abilities, all we could do is barter and try to survive." I gently stroked her cheek. Lyria's fingertips were callous and hardened, yet their caress was soft. The light brush stroked a myriad of textures, making every nerve ache.

"You will not give up?" she inquired softly.

I shook my head. Words failed.

Lyria tilted her head again, this time with firm conviction. "That one will weigh heavily on your conscience. Should you seek the power, what would that make you? What are you to Delyn then? How would that redefine your relationship to her?"

"You are right."

"You claim that, and Delyn is forever lost... to you." Lyria's gentle warmth still persisted even in my bitterness and misery. "You cannot change her. She is her own person, but you can affect your own decisions."

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw genuine happiness gleaming in Lyria's face. Then, I suppressed the urge to take her face in my palms. "I have a lot to process."

"Come." The tug from Lyria was strong and undeniable.

I could barely conceal the surprise in my eyes, nor suppress the squeal escaping my lips when she presented Adjuration back. The coiled blade whips of the urumi, twisted in unbridled glee. My weapon, my bond to Lyria was back.

Like a child excitedly showing off her new toys, Lyria grinned broadly. With a flourish, she handed me her gift. Her eyes darted, forbidden mischief dancing in.

"How..." I stammered.

"Would you still believe when I say, we have a chance to win?" The smirk, she held, made my heart melt into a gooey puddle.