Malvor didn't just arrive. He made an entrance, loud, late, and utterly impossible to ignore.
A fanfare of trumpets, courtesy of a few enchanted instruments he'd charmed into eternal servitude, blasted through the grand hall, drowning out every conversation. Confetti exploded from nowhere, raining down in shimmering gold and violet, because what was an entrance without pizzazz?
He strode in, arms outstretched as if expecting applause. "Ahhh, don't get up, don't get up," he called, grinning as the gods and goddesses glared at him. "Oh wait—you weren't going to. Rude."
They hated him. Good. He counted on it.
The room was already boiling. Gods bickering, voices overlapping, tension thick enough to slice. He didn't cause this chaos and that intrigued him.
Something's got them rattled. And none of them are subtle when they want something.
He drifted toward the dais like a king surveying his court. Lavish, lazy, deliberate.
Then the offers started.
"I'll grant you mountains of gold—"
"I will give you the richest, most fertile lands in all of Exsos—"
"I can provide information that no one else has—"
Malvor blinked. His grin sharpened.
Oh, this was precious.
Leisurely, he strolled forward, surveying the scene like a king watching his subjects trip over themselves. "Wait, wait, wait," he interrupted, waving a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're all bribing each other over a mortal?"
He let out a slow whistle.
Desperation. And not one of them hiding it well.
"Desperate times, I see."
Aerion stiffened. "This is no ordinary mortal."
Bingo.
"Oh, obviously," Malvor drawled, rolling his eyes. "I clearly see how this one insignificant creature is worth bribing other gods for. Gold? Land? Secrets?" He snorted. "You do realize you're gods, don't you? What, is your divine portfolio running a little dry? Need to supplement your income?"
Ravina frowned. "It's about what's at stake."
Malvor clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh yes, of course. How silly of me." Then his grin returned, slow and insufferable. "No, but really. Gold? Aerion, what are you even doing? You control wealth. What next—gonna promise a few free coupons for divine blessings? Maybe throw in a punch card?"
Aerion's jaw twitched.
Malvor noted it. Tucked it away.
Malvor turned to Ravina. "And you. Land? Really? What, do you own it? Are you going to write up a little divine deed? Maybe fence off a nice little plot for them?" He tsked. "At least try to be creative."
Her eyes narrowed.
Touched a nerve. She thinks land equals legacy. She's getting nervous.
Then he looked at Vitaria and grinned. "Secrets, though? I mean… marginally better. Points for effort. But honestly, darling, if your information was that valuable, you wouldn't be handing it out like candy."
She didn't flinch.
She's holding back. Interesting.
He stretched lazily, popping his neck, letting his tone return to bored amusement. On the outside, he was all drama and drawl. On the inside, the pieces were already clicking into place.
That's the game, then. They want her. None of them know why. Perfect. I'll take her, and I'll be the first to find out what makes her worth bleeding for.
He dropped his hands into his pockets and strolled forward, slow and purposeful.
"I offer something far more precious."
He paused.
Let them wait.
He heard the faint rustle of fabric. Saw the flicker of interest behind their disdain. Good.
"For the next ten years, I will not commit a single prank against any of you. No tricks. No chaos. No mischief of any kind."
Dead silence.
Delicious.
Hook. Line. Sink them.
The confetti was still falling.
Then, just as expected—
"Done," Aerion bit out. The word sounded like it cracked his teeth.
Ravina sighed. Already dreaming of peace.
Vitaria just gave a slow, deliberate nod. Measuring. Always measuring.
Malvor spread his arms. "Wow. That was easy. You all really do need to work on your bargaining skills." He turned on his heel, already heading for the exit. "Enjoy the peace while it lasts, darlings."
And just like that, the mortal was his.
Let's see what's so special about you, little mystery. If they want you this badly... then I'll be the one to figure out why.
Because Malvor wasn't just playing the game.
He was rearranging the board.
The Next Day:
Malvor arrived ten minutes late. Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just... precisely when he meant to.
Not because he was careless, he was never careless. But because time was a mortal obsession, and he liked to remind them who controlled it.
The high priest met him at the entrance, eyes wide, expression strained with the false delight of someone who desperately wanted to impress a god.
Sweaty. Nervous. Overcompensating. What are you hiding, little toad?
Malvor didn't bother with a greeting. He just gestured for the priest to walk and followed lazily, hands in his pockets, eyes drifting over the temple walls like a bored tourist.
No sigils of power. No anchoring charms. Not a real temple. A stage. A polished box dressed up as holiness. How fitting.
They reached the center of the room, and there she was.
She was chained to a marble pillar, like a painting nailed to a wall. Beautiful. Displayed. Not free.And for the briefest second, he hated the sight of it.
White ceremonial robes. Tall. Poised. Not trembling. Not crying. Just... standing.
Watching.
Malvor stopped. Tilted his head.
She was beautiful. That much was obvious. Hair like fire, skin kissed by candlelight, curves that begged poetry—but that wasn't what made him pause.
It was her eyes.
She's not afraid.
Not curious. Not hopeful. Just... aware.
The priest cleared his throat, ready to monologue. "My lord, this is Anastasia. She is the one we have chosen for sacrifice. She—"
Malvor waved him off. "I'm not here for your dramatics. She's here. I'm here. Let's not drag this out."
The priest faltered, then bowed himself out with a simpering smile.
Malvor took a few slow steps forward, his boots tapping lightly against the stone. He didn't speak yet. He just looked.
She didn't flinch.
She's calculating. Watching me the same way I'm watching her. Not impressed. Not moved. Not playing.
He smiled.
"So, this is it?" he said finally, voice light and amused. "You're the grand prize? The jewel of the temple?" He leaned in just slightly. "I was expecting a little more... enthusiasm."
She blinked, slowly.
"Enthusiasm?" she echoed. Her voice was calm. Cold. "Why would I be enthusiastic? I've done this before. A thousand times. You may think you're different, but you're not."
Sharp tongue. No heat behind it. No performance. She's not trying to survive me—she's already decided she will.
He let out a quiet laugh, circling her slowly. "Fascinating. Most mortals either beg or flatter. A few try to seduce. You, though… you're just enduring."
She didn't bother to track his movement. She just kept looking straight ahead.
"I'm not here for your entertainment," she said, still monotone. "I belong to you. That's the arrangement. But don't expect me to pretend I enjoy it."
She's not resigned. She's not hopeless. She's just... done. That's worse. Much worse.
"You've done this before," he murmured, stepping in front of her again. "How many times?"
She didn't answer.
He studied her. The perfect posture. The deliberate stillness. The faint shimmer beneath the surface of her skin.
Magic soaked into her bones. Gods have touched her—all of them. But she's not marked by devotion. She's marked by survival.
He tilted his head.
"You've made a life out of this, haven't you? Giving people what they think they want. Pretending to be what they need."
Her lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I don't pretend. I give them what they're paying for. I've learned the difference."
Malvor blinked.
That's not bitterness. That's knowledge. Intimate. Unflinching. She's been trained to be a mirror, not a person.
He leaned in closer, voice low.
"You're not broken," he said at last, quietly.He hadn't meant to say it out loud.But it was true. And it bothered him more than he expected.
She didn't react.
"That's what's bothering me," he continued, more to himself than her. "You should be shattered. A puppet, or a shell. But you're not. You're intact."
He tilted his head. "Who taught you how to bleed without a sound?"
She raised one eyebrow. "Disappointed?"
Malvor grinned. "Not yet. You might surprise me."
Then, with a flick of his fingers, the chains snapped free. They clattered to the floor like dead snakes.
She stepped away from the pillar and rolled her wrist, rubbing the skin where the iron had pressed too tightly. Then she looked up at him.
"Thank you," she said simply.
No mockery. No submission. Just a quiet acknowledgment.
He blinked.
Gratitude? Actual, unscripted gratitude?
"You're thanking me for un-chaining you?" he said, voice pitched in theatrical disbelief. "Not for claiming you? Not for sparing your life? No declarations of awe?"
Anastasia shrugged.
"I didn't expect kindness," she said. "Even small ones deserve notice."
Malvor stared at her a moment longer. Then smirked. "I didn't do it for your gratitude, darling. I did it because you're mine now."
He extended a hand, fingers splayed in exaggerated flourish. "Come. My realm awaits."
She took it, her grip steady. No resistance. No awe.
Just acceptance.
She's not playing hard to get. She's not playing at all. And that's going to be a problem.
"Well," he said after a moment, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "this is going to be interesting."
Anastasia took his hand, firm and steady. Not impressed. Not resisting. Just... accepting. This was where she'd be. For now.
In the blink of an eye, they were standing in the center of his realm. The realm warped and shimmered around them, sky bleeding red, violet, and gold, the ground shifting like a living dream. Chaos, spun into beauty. She didn't flinch. The air felt charged, as if even the atmosphere was alive with Malvor's chaotic energy.
The ground shimmered like velvet. A nearby tree grew upside down, its roots tangled with clouds. Nothing here obeyed the laws of reality but everything obeyed him.
Anastasia looked around, taking it in, but didn't seem in awe. Her expression remained neutral, even as she appreciated the intricate beauty of his world. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice calm. "But it doesn't change anything."
She didn't need to overstate it. It was an acknowledgment that the place was striking, even if it wasn't going to sway her.
Malvor watched her closely, as though waiting for some sort of reaction. He didn't get it. "I see you're not easily impressed," he said with a smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took a step closer to her.
Anastasia shrugged. "I'm here because I have to be. It's not about your realm." Her eyes flicked to him, and she could sense the shift in his mood, the subtle undercurrent of expectation in the air. "I know what you want," she said, her tone blunt. "And it doesn't change a thing. You can try to make this feel like a game if you want, but I'm just passing through."
Malvor stared at her.No tantrum. No smirk. Just a quiet flicker of something unfamiliar.He smiled again, this one slower. Less smug. More curious.
"You think you've got it all figured out?" he said, the edge of amusement in his voice.
Anastasia met his gaze squarely, unwavering. "I don't need to figure you out. You want something. And I'm not here to deny you. But don't expect me to fall in line the way you think I will."
Her words were clear, no games, no pretension. She wasn't intimidated by him. She wasn't intrigued by his power. She wasn't impressed by his world. But she knew where she stood, right here, with him, because that's how the game was played.
She wasn't here to win. She was here to survive.And she wasn't playing at all.And that's going to be a problem.