"Get the hell off my throne," she growled at Melania, a crown of fire adorning her head.

Her eyes darted to glance at the chalk drawn on the floor before darting back up at the Queen of Darkness.

"I hear that the Heir of Nothing bows to no one," Melania drawled from her perch on the throne. "Or should I say, Princess of Fire?"

"Get off, or I'll turn you to ash," Cal snarled, flames flickering in her hands.

"Guards!" Matias barked from behind her.

"Oh, they can't hear you, Captain," said Melania. "They answer only to me, now."

That explained the blank faces. 

"You're a witch," said Matias.

Melania stood up and descended the dais. Cal approached Melania, her flames burning brighter. She didn't dare take her eyes off of the witch. They circled the chalk on the floor. Melania's lips were moving.

A wave of darkness lashed out at her. Cal blocked with her flame. Another wave lashed out, again and again. Then hesitated. Cal took her chance. Her back was to the dais.

Matias peeked out from behind a row of guards. Down at the chalk on the floor. His eyes widened. "No, Cal—don't!"

It was too late. Cal threw a fireball at Melania—straight above the chalk circle. The fireball hit an invisible wall on the far side of the circle and exploded, the force of it throwing everyone backwards. Cal's back hit the steps of the dais, her head whipping back against the stone, and she slumped as the breath whooshed out of her.

Smoke filled the area enclosed within the circle before spilling out. Within seconds, the smoke cleared enough for her to see the silhouette of a man. 

The man rose to his feet. He had broad shoulders and a dark grey shirt on, a black coat over top. He had golden blonde hair—his bangs, however, were a fiery orange. Though the lines and planes of his face were harsh—demonic, even—he still looked youthful; a year or two older than Matias. Was Melania able to resurrect a person without their corpse?

The man opened his hell-orange eyes. Not a man. A demon. And one who was used to and trained in combat judging by the knife handle peeking up from his boot, a shadow against his blood red pants. 

Melania was in awe. She stalked around the circle until she faced the demon. "James—Prince of Helheim, second son of the Diablo, Lord of Madness—in return for bringing you into this realm, you will fulfill a favour owed to me."

Cal got to her feet, her eyes wide in horror. Oh, gods; what did she help Melania summon?

James knelt down on one knee, his head bowed. "Your will is mine, my Queen."

Melania turned around and walked up the dais. Cal got to her feet and turned to look up at Melania. "I have heard rumours the the Lucinean heir was a bastard who couldn't wield so much as an ember. I'm glad that one of those rumours was proven wrong. Thank you, Calista Pyro." She picked up a curved iron object off of the throne's armrest.

The crown of fire she had forced earlier... No. Maybe being without magic was a better thing, she thought in horror.

"You don't need to be a princess anymore," Melania said with a smirk. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way: Bow down and swear allegiance to me."

Cal looked behind her. James was gone. She swallowed her rising fear, looking at Matias. She looked back up at Melania. "No."

Melania didn't look surprised. "Guards," she said, sounding bored.

Guards swarmed Cal. She threw a fire at them, but there were too many. The guards forced Cal to her knees. She looked up at Melania as she descended, hatred written all over her face.

"Keep her down!" she barked.

Cal kept struggling. "There's one person in this world that won't bow to you. The Light-Bringer bows to no one—not even to the gods themselves!"

Melania cocked her head to the side. "Then I shall find this 'Light-Bringer' and then no one can stop me from raising my beloved Phillippe. I will make you duel this Light-Bringer, Heir of Ash."

"I'll never do what you want," she snarled.

Melania smirked. "Oh, you will. James, cut up the lover boy."

Cal turned her head. James reappeared behind Matias. Matias drew his sword, but not fast enough. Orange flames hit Matias in the back, sending him flying. He got to his feet, sword in hand, as James stalked toward him. Matias struck, bringing the blade down towards James's head. James brought his knives up, blocking the blow.

James pushed back and landed a kick to Matias's ribs. He swiped Matias's feet out from under him. James pinned Matias down with his knees. She couldn't see his face; couldn't see him as James held Matt's head down with his other hand. But she could see the sadistic grin on James's face as he brought the knife to the corner of Matias's mouth, and began to cut.

—

Matias screamed. Screamed as his father watched the demon on top of him torture him. He tasted his own blood and felt it. He felt James drag the knife from the corner of his mouth up to his ear.

Miles looked pained. He thrashed against the shackles. Miles was pained as he watched the last member of his family—his only son—be dealt torture at the hands of a demon prince.

Cal was screaming. Screaming for James to stop, for Melania to make him stop. Her screams turned into sobs.

He felt James stop and get off of him. He painstakingly turned his head to look at Cal, her eyes wide with horror and tears running down her face. His blood dripped onto the tiles.

He watched as Cal hung her head, the fight seeming to go out of her, as Melania fastened an iron mask over her face. 

There were only three openings: two for her eyes, and a slit big enough to fit small amounts of food through.

"No," he groaned, pulling himself closer to Cal. "No."

James put his foot down between Matias's shoulder blades. 

He watched as they put iron gauntlets on her, an iron chest plate. Melania wasn't going to bend the princess to her will; she was going to unknowingly break the Light-Bringer.