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The cavernous hall of the Purple Demon Kingdom, usually shrouded in cold, regal shadows, had suddenly become an arena of raw, unchecked power. One moment, Liora's crimson gaze was fixed on Lia with guarded pity; the next, an ancient, instinctual rage surged.
"No!" Liora's cry was sharp and animalistic. She launched forward, a blurred movement of indigo and black, shoving Lia away from Ren with unnecessary force.
"Lia!" Ren shouted, already moving, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.
Lia, stumbling back, managed a choked, dismissive reassurance, "I'm okay, Ren."
But Liora didn't pause. Her eyes, now blazing an impossible, terrifying scarlet, zeroed in on the young woman. "No… how could you?" A low, guttural sound tore from the Demon Queen's throat. In a flash, her hand clamped around Lia's throat, fingers tightening instantly.
Lia gasped, the air rushing out of her lungs in a silent whoosh. Her hands scrabbled weakly at Liora's iron grip.
Ren froze, horror turning his blood to ice. "Lia! Liora, leave her!" The words were useless. Liora was intensive, her scarlet gaze locked on Lia's terrified eyes, searching for a phantom memory, an echo of a life stolen long ago.
Then, the question—the desperate, heartbreaking query that held centuries of loss: "Where… is my daughter? Tell me!"
Just as Lia's strength flagged, a cold, ozone-scented chill swept through the hall. Ten paces away, amidst a swirling vortex of cobalt smoke that vanished as quickly as it came, stood Dylan, the King of the Blue Moon Kingdom.
He was a silhouette of stark authority in his blue and black king's attire. His eyes, the color of a winter ocean, registered the sight instantly: Liora's hand brutally throttling Lia, Ren standing immobile in shock. Dylan, too, had heard Liora's anguished demand. The silence in the wake of the blue smoke's dissipation was absolute, thick with pending destruction.
Dylan didn't hesitate. He didn't rush. He simply issued a sound that was less a word and more the concentrated force of a demon's displeasure—a deep, resonant roar of a name.
"Fiona!"
Liora's eyes widened, the scarlet intensity flickering with catastrophic shock. Her grip instinctively loosened, and she recoiled a step. Lia crumpled, inhaling a ragged, tearing breath that sounded like a sob.
Ren was instantly at her side, his arms wrapping around her shaking body. "Are you okay?" he whispered fiercely, before turning a furious gaze toward Liora, his silver sword suddenly materialized, humming with righteous light.
"No, Ren!" Lia gasped, catching his arm, her eyes pleading with him not to strike.
Liora's red eyes, now haunted, slowly pivoted to Dylan, who stood like a statue carved from ice. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft.
Dylan's expression remained utterly cold, his face devoid of warmth or compromise. "Your daughter is Fiona."
Ren, still half-hugging Lia protectively, looked utterly shattered. "No… Fiona isn't a Demon! You're lying!"
Lia leaned against Ren, her breath evening out, but her spirit sinking further into sorrow. "Yes, Ren. Fiona is Liora's daughter."
A harsh, grating laugh escaped Liora. "Do you think I believe you? A simple trick of words?"
"I know you won't believe me," Lia conceded, taking a deep, fortifying breath. Slowly, carefully, she summoned a small, leather-bound volume into her trembling hand—an ancient diary. She held it out to the Demon Queen. "The truth is here."
Liora's hands shook as she snatched the diary. It was heavy, and smelled of age and the mountain air of the Heaven kingdom. As she rapidly turned the pages, reading the familiar, slanting script, her composure disintegrated. It was Xander's diary. He wrote of his wife, Fiona. How he discovered the impossible, terrifying truth that Fiona was a demon, but how he had accepted it, and her, anyway.
A hot, fat tear streamed down Liora's cheek, etching a path through the faint demonic markings beneath her eye. "Xander… you… son of a b*tch," she whispered, a low, agonizing sound. "All the time… he hides this truth from me…" Her voice rose to a furious roar. She hurled the diary onto the stone floor, the sound echoing through the hall.
"He might have done it for some reason," Lia offered weakly.
Liora's angry eyes locked onto Lia's, forcing Ren to step fully in front of his wife, shielding her.
"But Xander was a good husband," Lia continued, speaking around Ren's rigid back. "He always protected her and supported her… and he truly loved her."
"Might be," Liora choked out, tears now flowing freely. "But… because of him… I couldn't see my daughter. Not one last time." She sank to her knees, the regal mask gone, replaced by the face of a grieving mother. "I saw her when she came to my kingdom… to seek one drop of my blood… to rescue that… Xander." Her voice descended into a heartbreaking whisper. "I didn't realize her that time…"
Liora bent double, deep, shaking sobs consuming her.
She straightened moments later, wiping her tears roughly. Her eyes were still wet but regained a steely focus as they returned to Lia. "Why were you pretending to be my daughter?"
Lia's lower lip trembled. "Sorry… I… I wanted to help my mother… by acting as her daughter." Her own eyes welled up. "I know… you are a great mother, even a demon. Your love is pure."
Liora offered a tight, painful smirk, a flicker of appreciation for the sentiment, before succumbing to a fresh wave of sorrow, still kneeling on the cold floor, crying soundlessly.
Dylan used the moment to close the distance. He grabbed Lia's hand—the left one, the one not held by Ren. "Come with me," he commanded, his gaze fixed on Liora's kneeling form.
Ren reacted instantly, gripping Lia's other hand fiercely. "Leave my wife."
"What?" Dylan's eyes snapped to Ren, the coldness in them turning predatory. "Your wife? Do you Heaven people… accept a demon?"
Ren's eyes widened, a sudden, sick dread washing over him. "What are you saying?"
Lia didn't move, didn't argue. She just stood between them, deep sorrow radiating from her.
Dylan locked his eyes onto Ren's, delivering the final, catastrophic blow with chilling calm. "She is a demon. She is my sister."
Ren's world spun into fragments. "What…" he whispered, his entire body rigid with shock.
Lia nodded slowly, her beautiful, wounded eyes fixed on Ren in deep, agonizing emotion. The last bastion of Ren's faith shattered. His eyes swam, and fat, heavy tears streamed down his face, the realization that everything he knew, everything he loved, was a lie. Dylan, standing opposite, remained cold and unmoved, the executioner of truth.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Dylan didn't wait for Ren to process the grief. With a barely perceptible shift of his shoulders, the blue and black armor he wore seemed to absorb the light around Lia. A thin, crackling band of cobalt energy silently tightened around her wrist, pulling her gently but irresistibly toward him.
Ren saw the possessiveness, the final claim of Kinship eclipsing any claim of marriage. A raw, primal sound of fury tore from his chest. "She is mine!"
He let go of Lia's hand, spinning away only to swing his silver sword up high, its pure, white light blazing in defiance of the Demon King. The blade, meant to slay fiends, was aimed not at Liora, but at Dylan himself.
"Get your hands off her, now!" Ren roared, throwing the weight of his entire, broken existence behind the attack.
Lia screamed his name, her voice ripped apart by the two forces pulling her toward futures she never wanted to face. She was caught between a husband who now knew her monstrous truth and a brother , destined to rule a realm she feared. The sword descended.
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