Artemis entered the room as quickly as she could, avoiding the probing, envious gazes of the maids. Whispers drifted through the door behind her.
"What is she even doing in the young master's room, anyway?" one of the maids hissed.
"How's that any of your business? I'm sure she's just there to warm his bed. She's probably been fucked multiple times," another sneered.
"That's right. She's not so special just because she's sleeping in his bed and following him around like a little puppy."
"Be quiet. At least she's pretty, and Young Miss likes her too. Your head'll be gone if they hear you."
"Whatever. I've missed his touch and the feeling of him inside me. Those smooth muscles and—"
The voices faded into the wind as the women walked away.
Artemis stood frozen, her face scrunched in disgust.
Fucking assholes, she scoffed and made her way to the bed. She tried to brush it off, but part of her believed what they were saying. Her sigh was heavy.
"That girl is a whore. She's just a crappy little slave that'll be out of here soon," she heard another voice laugh.
Her eyes welled up.
Maybe that's why he hasn't killed me and disposed of me yet, she thought, wiping her tears.
She might be a slave, someone who didn't amount to much—but those words still pierced her like arrows.
---
Alexander and Dimitri entered the Council building. People bowed with the utmost respect as the two men passed, but they offered only nods in return. They made their way to a dark room at the end of the hall. It was dimly lit, cluttered with tubes and jars across various tables.
A scrawny man with round glasses and pale red eyes approached them. He looked sleep-deprived, his hair a wild mess.
"Young Master. Lord Dimitri. Good to have you here," he said, managing a smile. It wasn't every day two powerful figures stepped into his chaotic workspace.
"How's the specimen, Jairene?" Alexander asked as they walked toward another door in the room.
Jairene, long used to Alexander's icy demeanor, followed them without question. He opened the door.
Inside, giant glass jars and cases held decaying bodies suspended in liquid. Some were already rotted, others mid-process. A few were charred black but eerily intact. On the far end of the room was an examination table, atop it a burnt body—not human. The corpse released faint wisps of smoke. Horns protruded where eyes should be—a creature clearly born of dark magic.
"She hasn't said a word, no matter what we've done," Jairene gestured toward a chained woman swaying slightly. Her scaly skin looked seared. Beside her, on a table, sat a bottle of crystal-blue liquid—water from Devaun Lake.
Dimitri hummed as he approached, inspecting her.
"Hmm..." He lifted her chin. Her face was so battered it leaked black fluid. He let go and wiped his hand on Jairene's shoulder.
"You caught a black witch. And her face looks like your handiwork," Alexander noted with a faint smile.
"She wouldn't stop flirting. It got annoying. She looks prettier this way, don't you think?" Dimitri chuckled. Jairene smiled in agreement.
The witch groaned, lifting her head slowly. Her eyes were as black as midnight. A forked tongue slithered out of her mouth before she grinned.
"Mmm," she moaned, her features morphing into a beautiful brunette with bright red lips. "A sweet feast for my sore eyes. The Lord of Devarus, here to see poor ol' me," she cooed.
Jairene gaped. Her face had been too battered to recognize—how was she able to shift appearances?
Alexander and Dimitri remained unfazed.
Alexander moved closer, lifting her chin gently with a finger.
"Ready to talk now, beautiful?" he said smoothly, head tilted with a charming smile.
Her eyes lit up—then narrowed.
"I can smell her on you," she hissed, shifting back to her scaly form, black eyes glowing with fury.
Alexander's smile dropped.
"Who?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"The girl. The descendant. The key," she cackled.
Dimitri raised a brow, stepping in.
"What do you mean, 'the key'?"
Her face transformed once again into the seductive brunette.
"Tell Alexander to give me a kiss, and I might tell you," she purred, pouting.
Alexander's eyes darkened. He dropped her face with a glare.
"You have ten seconds to start talking," he growled.
The witch smirked. "Oh? Make me, Young Master."
---
Artemis woke from a nap to the sound of knocking. When she opened the door, Desmine, the butler, stood there with a food tray. She accepted it with a quiet "thank you."
Just as she was about to close the door, he spoke.
"Is everything alright, miss?" he asked gently. Her eyes were red-rimmed, puffy—obvious signs she'd been crying.
"I'm fine. Thank you, sir," she said with a forced smile and shut the door. Desmine blinked, then walked away.
She sighed, sitting on the floor with the tray. She ate quietly, finishing every bite. Afterward, she wandered out onto the balcony, her mind spinning.
In just two weeks, she'd lost everything—her parents, her grandmother, her freedom... and soon, her dignity.
She wasn't looking forward to anything anymore. But what had she expected? Slowly, painfully, she began to believe the maids' words. Maybe she was nothing more than a pet. A slave.
As she sulked, something inside a glass case caught her eye.
---
Back in the carriage, Alexander listened to Dimitri.
"So you think the black witches are behind the massacres and the burnings?" he asked.
Dimitri nodded. "Yes. But the worst part is, the burnt bodies don't vanish or turn to ash. With black magic, they become that creature we saw in the Council chamber."
Alexander exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. Just as he was beginning to enjoy his time off, more work piled on.
"And you think Artemis is connected to it?"
He wiped the remaining black blood off his knuckles with a handkerchief. Afterward, he held the cloth in his palm—it ignited in red flame and turned to ash. The ash swirled toward Dimitri, who flicked his fingers, transforming it into a green bird. The wind blew, and the bird vanished into nothing.