"Is Lady Moira trying to kill you?" The celestial creature commented from his end of Dark Lord's plush couch.

"I'm immortal," The Dark Lord replied, sinking more into the comfort of his favourite seat. Finally, he had been able to sit on the plush couch, glad that the celestial beast had not brought its filthy dietary habits back in with it today. "She turned me immortal."

The Dark Lord had spent a fortune of centuries' hard work collecting 'White Gold' from the numerous funerals he had attended whenever any of his Reapers failed to do the job of reaping correctly, all to buy this couch from a local mortal dealer. It did not matter how immortal he was; some mortal luxuries still could bring a smile to his face.

"Yeah, but she–" Rogue pointed to the girl across the hall. "She is gonna be the death of you."

Beyond a line of stone pillars with intricate grapevines carved into them sat a long oak table where Devereaux used to sit for meals or reading. It accommodated eighteen seats comfortably arranged around the oval tabletop. On one end sat Ada Levessa Romersai, chugging down yet another glass of Sherry.

Devereaux had forgotten to mention that it was not like her usual servings, nor the goblet it was served which refilled the beverage itself with every chug she emptied. It was not Sherry from the mortal realm and was supposed to be too strong for a plain human like her, but her dropping head and slurred mumbles indicated he was a little too late for the warnings.

By the other end of the long table stood a towering wooden shelf adorned with an array of exquisite crystal decanters and ornate goblets, each vessel holding a distinct elixir of fine alcoholic craftsmanship. This collection, witnessed by Devereaux over nearly all his immortal life, served as a companion and solace, as he navigated through whatever the challenge posed by the nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine assignments handed down by Lady Fate so far.

After the unsettling events at the Crepusculem involving Head Mage Shinatzai Zen and the apparitions that attempted to assail them in the woods during their journey back, the Dark Lord vehemently opposed Ada returning to Serenel. The realm of normies, as he saw it, was unfit to safeguard the former heiress.

Everyone familiar with her seemed to view her, whether dead or alive, as a potential threat. The Dark Lord, desiring a peaceful existence without the constant worry of her safety, strongly suggested and ultimately convinced Ada to accompany him to the Land of Shadows.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with her once she's awake," the Dark Lord sighed, not bothering to take his eyes off the girl.

"Whatever you're gonna do, you'll have to face the wrath of the Two Ladies first," the celestial creature responded, its bloodshot eyes fixed on the mortal in the room. "Taking the life of a human before they're due is against the laws, you know that."

While he had assured her it would be a brief stay—of him explaining his sudden disappearance from her life one picturesque autumn night—the Dark Lord had no intention of sending her back anytime soon. Hence, he had not really worried with the cautionary note about the Sherry in question, which was actually a brew of Devil's Snarl: a type of immortal wine that was there to make immortal who could not get really drunk, a little tipsy, when she had enquired about the fancy looking collection as the first thing after setting foot to his abode.

At least now he was with her. She was safe to lay unconscious for however long she wanted afterwards, and the Dark Lord believed such a disconnection from reality at the moment would do her the best.

"So you suggest I should've just let Shinatzai kill her? Then it would be me failing my whole assignment in one go." The Dark Lord raised a brow at Rogue.

"No. You could've saved her without being so dramatic." The celestial creature replied matter-of-factly. "You could've saved her the way you saved her that night from her brother and the snake. Staying behind the scenes, hidden behind a veil. Just save her, not causing a whole scene."

The high walls caging the space adorned a number of paintings the Dark Lord had accrued over centuries of existence and visits back and forth to the immortal realm. Celestial music echoed through the space, creating a peaceful and serene atmosphere mingling with the too immortal conversation.

"I've decided it Rogue. I'm not gonna stay behind the curtains anymore, concealed by the veil as if I'm the one in the wrong." Devereaux sighed. "I'm done being afar, letting her suffer on her own."

"You're not afraid of being the reason for her despair anymore, my lord? Now that's new." The creature commented, its way too many teeth hidden behind a pair of way too big lips, gracing into a certain smile that could irk the Lord of Death.

Said Lord of Death opted to not say anything and silence fell between them. That was only until Ada's voice shattered the stillness. Apparently, she was calling out for Rogue.

"Polar bear–polar bear–" She slurred in her drunken slumber, a veiny hand gesturing in its supposed direction though her eyes remained shut.

The celestial creature, covered in a thick coat of bushy ivory fur since birth, and the Lord of Death looked at each other in surprise.

"Is she calling to me–" the creature asked, a crooked claw pointed at itself.

"Probably–I suppose so–"

"Not you? Not–not a nickname she ga—"

"Nope. Nope." 

"But I'm celestial. I have wings–" The creature tried to reason but was cut short with the intense whining of the human.

The said human now had her eyes wide open and trained precisely on the targeted ivory coat that looked so warm and comfortable in her eyes.

"Bear, I'm cold. Give me a hug." She whined again.

And as if summoned by her whine, a denizen barged into the hall, gasping for breath.

"My lord—my—lord—" he wheezed, "there's a human down here."

Rogue's eyes darted between the horned fellow and Ada. "Yes and just now she called me in for a hug."

"Huh?"

"Yes, can you believe it? She called me Polar. Bear."

"No, no. Not her. A living, breathing one," the denizen clarified.

Rogue's eyes made another trip from Ada to the messenger. "She looks quite dead, but trust me, she's alive."

"No, no, no! A mage!"

"Insanely accurate if you add 'maniac' as a prefix," Rogue gestured toward Ada, not bothering to look back at her.

"For hell's sake, Rogue—" the denizen started.

"Yes, tell us more precisely, Dukun. What's the matter?" The Dark Lord interrupted, his voice stern.

"There's a human down here. He barged in through the main door, sprinkled holy water on three of our guards, and is now threatening to recite some holy words—devil knows who invented those—and demands to see the girl."

The Dark Lord contemplated for a bit. "I think I know who that is. Let him in," he ordered.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The man standing at the gates of the Land Of Shadows was undeniably striking, his presence commanding attention in a way that was hard to ignore. His tall, lean frame was accentuated by a deep-necked shirt, which hung loosely on his body. The loose collar of his shirt revealed the bruised skin on his neck, a blooming array of blues and purples that spoke of recent, brutal encounters. Around his neck, an amulet hung low, resting on his chest and glowing a bright yellow flickering ever so slightly.

Rolled up sleeves exposed a network of fresh cuts along his forearms and a raw, crimson line slashed across his cheek. The wound was still fresh, the blood dark against his tanned skin, adding a rugged edge to his already formidable appearance.

His hazel eyes, flecked with shades of green and gold, held a sharp intensity, seeming to take in everything around him with a calculated gaze. There was no softness in those eyes, only a piercing focus that suggested he was always two steps ahead, even in the midst of chaos.

A leather satchel was slung casually over one shoulder, but the tension in his posture betrayed the weight of whatever burden he carried. His fists were clenched, the knuckles white against the dirt and grime that covered his hands, and his jaw was set in a hard line, the muscles twitching slightly as if he was barely holding something back.

The man's boots and trousers were caked with dirt, remnants of whatever rough terrain he had traversed, and a faint smell clung to him—a mixture of seaweed and something more acrid, like burning flesh.

"You're a selkie—" the Dark Lord observed, his gaze lingering on the man before him.

"You sent me the mail elf—" the man replied, his hazel eyes meeting the Dark Lord's amber ones with unflinching resolve. There was no trace of fear or regret in his expression, despite facing the embodiment of Death himself.

"A half-selkie. I didn't know," the Dark Lord remarked, his tone dismissive of the man's comment.

"Yet you sent me a mail elf," the visitor countered, his boldness eliciting a collective roar from the denizens gathered around them.

"I assume you're here for Ada," the Dark Lord said, shifting his focus.

"Yes. I promised her I'd return," the man said, his stance firm and resolute as he rooted himself to the earthy ground beneath.

"I did send the mail elf to the right person—"

"Selkie. Yes," he interrupted. "And where is she?"

A small smirk appeared on the Dark Lord's face. This one would be useful in many more occasions to come. "Sleeping. Safe and sound," he answered, a trace of satisfaction in his voice.

"I want to see her."

"I appreciate that you went to her rescue on short notice. But now she's safe with me, and she needs rest."

"I'll wait until she wakes up."

The Dark Lord shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine by me. But I can't assure your safety down here," he said, gesturing to the snarling demons surrounding them, their eyes gleaming with malevolence.

Kaya's grip on the strap of his bag tightened. "Made it all the way down here, didn't I?"

"Suit yourself," the Dark Lord said with a dismissive shrug, his eyes travelling over Kaya's body before settling on the amulet hanging from his neck. "I can smell your flesh being cooked by that amulet even from here. But yeah, suit yourself." With a final, indifferent look, he turned to leave.

"I'm staying. If I can't do this much for Auden , what good am I to be alive anyway? I couldn't protect him. I'm not giving up on Ada."

The Dark Lord paused mid-stride, glancing back over his shoulder. Without another word, he turned around and vanished into the darkness.

"I swear to you–you Dark Lord–she's gonna be the end of all of us!" Rouge's anguish complaints could be heard as his eyes restlessly darted between the dark his friend had disappeared to and their unlikely guest standing at the doors.

"Don't attack. I'll be right back," turning towards the agitated denizens, he warned, hurrying towards the hall. "Don't attack. I repeat!"

In his headless rush he collided with a maiden emerging from the mist. She gave Rouge a curt bow and approached Kaya.

"The Dark Lord asked me to show you to your quarters. Someone will be there shortly to tend to your wounds."