Arkanis led Elara deeper into the castle, the torches lining the walls casting long, flickering shadows. The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, their eerie silence amplifying the pounding of Elara's heart.
She kept her sword at her side, ready for anything, but a part of her wondered if she'd ever truly need to use it against him.
Finally, they arrived at a large iron door engraved with ancient runes. Arkanis placed his hand against it, and the symbols glowed faintly, responding to his touch. With a soft groan, the door creaked open, revealing a hidden chamber unlike anything Elara had seen before.
The room was vast, its walls lined with glowing sigils that pulsed like the beat of a living heart. At its center stood an ornate altar, surrounded by intricate magic circles. The air hummed with energy, and Elara felt an inexplicable sense of unease as she stepped inside.
"This," Arkanis said, gesturing to the chamber, "is what's left of my predecessor's legacy—a place of raw power and destruction."
Elara frowned, glancing at the altar. "Why show this to me?"
"Because you need to understand," he said, his voice steady yet tinged with frustration. "The essence that fuels a Demon Lord comes from places like this. It's meant to be used for chaos—for war. But I've been draining it...redirecting it."
"Redirecting it to what?" Elara asked, her suspicion growing.
Arkanis hesitated for a moment, as though weighing whether to reveal his secret. Finally, he answered, "To heal. To restore. I've been using this energy to undo the damage my kind has caused."
Elara stared at him, stunned. The thought of a Demon Lord wielding destructive energy for good was incomprehensible. "You're trying to undo the damage? Why?"
Arkanis met her gaze, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "Because someone has to. My kind has been blind to the suffering we've inflicted for centuries. And I refuse to be just another link in that chain."
Elara wanted to argue, to accuse him of hypocrisy, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she stepped closer to the altar, her fingers brushing against the edge. She felt the faint hum of power beneath her touch—a power that could destroy cities, yet somehow felt...gentle.
"If the council finds out," Arkanis continued, "they'll strip me of my title—and my life. But I'm willing to take that risk."
Elara's mind raced as she tried to process everything he was saying. Could this truly be the Demon Lord's truth? Could he really be using the energy meant for destruction to help others? And if so, what did that mean for the war she'd been fighting her entire life?
"What do you want from me?" she finally asked, her voice quiet.
"Your trust," Arkanis said. "And maybe...your help."
Elara hesitated, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. Trust a Demon Lord? Help him defy his own kind? It went against everything she'd been taught, everything she believed in. But for reasons she couldn't explain, she found herself nodding.