"What are you doing here, Masakiro? Come to remind me that I am destined to ascend the throne of shadows?"
Tsuramo asked, taking a slow sip from a goblet forged from dark crystal that shimmered with swirling runes.
His gaze was as icy as the void between worlds, piercing through the air with silent authority.
Next to him, lounging in the most relaxed posture a prince of the abyss could summon, was his brother. Masakiro, with his hair like spun moonlight—white as the stars themselves—and skin so pale it glowed faintly in the dim light.
His lips, a soft shade of pink, curled into a grin that radiated mischief. His demeanor was as calm as a still lake in a forgotten forest, yet with the quiet power of an ancient dragon resting.
''Arama...'' Masakiro whispered, voice deep and smooth as enchanted velvet, yet playfully teasing.
"Big bro, I've come to keep you company... since I heard you're back with your 'No Throne Policy'—whatever that means in your gloomy kingdom."
He stretched lazily, eyes half-lidded with amusement. "But… I get the feeling you don't really want me here, huh?"
Tsuramo sighed, voice barely above a whisper. "I am sorry."
Masakiro rolled his eyes with the flair of a trickster mage.
"We still haven't gone to the School of Shadows, you know," he said with a shrug that looked more like a flick of a casual spell.
"I always sneak out through the Veil of Whispers just to see the humans playing in the mortal realms, while you sit here brooding like a dark sorcerer preparing his next curse."
He gestured vaguely at the ancient runes etched into the stone walls, glowing faintly.
"I convinced Lord Malakar, the shadow lord himself, to let us attend Shadowreach Academy," he added nonchalantly, as if discussing a casual trip to the market. "He said yes. Expect news by sunset—big things are coming."
With a relaxed stretch, Masakiro leaned back, his aura radiating effortless chill like a breeze through enchanted forests.
Then, with a lazy whistle that echoed through the halls of the gloomspire, he drifted outside, leaving Tsuramo to run a hand through his crimson hair and let out a long, exasperated sigh.
------
The dawn cast a crimson glow over the grand demon dining hall of Malakar's fortress, its towering walls carved from obsidian and shimmering with dark runes that flickered like living shadows.
The long, enchanted table stretched across the hall, adorned with plates of exotic demonic delicacies—glowing obsidian slabs of roasted hellfire boar, sapphirine fruit that shimmered with internal lightning, and steaming bowls of molten shadow stew, bubbling with fiery spices and infused with essence of nightshade.
Goblets of liquid darkness—thick, inky drinks brewed from demonberry and infused with a hint of infernal spice—clinked softly as the family gathered.
At the head of the table sat Thai, the Empress of Shadows, a regal demoness whose beauty was both mesmerizing and terrifying.
Her skin was like polished midnight jade, smooth and gleaming, with eyes that sparkled like twin stars swallowed by the night.
Her long, flowing hair cascaded like a river of molten gold, framing her face with an air of calm authority.
She wore an elegant gown woven from shadow silk, shimmering with the faint glow of ancient runes.
A gentle smile curled at her lips, warm yet with an edge of power.
Next to her, Masakiro sat cross-legged, casually munching on a crispy, blackened demon-phoenix wing, his white hair catching the first light of dawn.
His relaxed posture made it clear he had no worries, even amidst the grandeur and seriousness of the moment.
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he sipped from a goblet of dark elixir that shimmered like liquid starlight.
Suddenly, Malakar, the imposing demon lord with horns spiraling like ancient spiral galaxies, cleared his throat.
His voice rumbled through the hall, deep and commanding, yet with a hint of urgency.
"Tsuramo... Masakiro," he began, voice echoing off the shadow-etched walls, "I have something important to discuss regarding me and your mother."
He paused, eyes scanning the family as a faint growl of anticipation rippled through the air.
"We have enrolled you both as seniors at the legendary Shadowreach Academy—the greatest school of heroes and demons in the Netherworld," he announced, voice firm and serious.
Thai's lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes shining with pride.
"Yes. We want you to discover more of yourselves and your true powers, so that Tsuramo…"
But Masakiro, ever the quick wit, interrupted with a grin.
"Could take the throne, yeah, we know," he said nonchalantly, waving a hand as if dismissing the idea of royal duties.
Tsuramo sighed deeply, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.
"But Lord Malakar, I don't think I want to go to that school, nor do I want the throne," he said firmly, turning to Thai.
"Empress Thai, you know I don't like it."
Masakiro let out a resigned sigh, leaning back with a smirk. "We know. Just because you're more powerful than me doesn't mean I want to be like you or want you to go, so… please."
Tsuramo nodded reluctantly. "Fine."
Malakar's voice softened, though still carrying authority. "It's a boarding school. You'll be living there."
Tsuramo's eyes widened in shock. "What? Living there? The hell?!"
Thai chuckled softly, her voice soothing yet commanding. "Hmm, sounds fun."
Masakiro grinned mischievously, putting a hand behind his head.
"I'm ready, Lord Father." he whispered, then nudged Tsuramo with a grin. "Come, bro."
He turned to Malakar and Thai, bowing with exaggerated politeness. "If you would excuse me, parents."
Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared in a shimmer of shadow, leaving Tsuramo to groan and run a hand through his crimson hair.
Thai sat back, her calm smile reassuring. "You're going to be just fine."
Tsuramo's voice cut sharply through the enchanted silence of the demon dining hall, thick with the aroma of molten shadow stew and ember-spiced delicacies.
"But… I have powers! I don't think I need to go," he insisted, his voice echoing like a shard of lightning tearing through the shadows.
Malakar, the towering demon lord with horns spiraling like ancient galaxies, turned slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance.
He growled, voice resonant and commanding, "Tsuramo, stop yapping and get ready. You'll be leaving for Shadowreach Academy at dawn. No more excuses."
Tsuramo hesitated, then bowed his head slightly in reluctant acceptance.
Malakar's gaze shifted to Thai, who nodded subtly, her expression calm yet filled with unspoken strength.
With a final glance, Malakar turned and strode out of the hall, his footsteps echoing like distant thunder across the obsidian floor.
Thai, her voice gentle but firm, broke the silence.
"Tsuramo… even though you're not my biological children, I care for you just as much. Hear this…," she said softly, her eyes shimmering with the light of ancient shadows.
Tsuramo looked up, meeting her gaze.
"Yes, Mother," he whispered, voice trembling slightly.
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You will have to act as if… you're new, as if you know nothing. That way, you can learn faster, gain strength from the lessons, and discover your true potential."
He nodded again, quietly, absorbing her words.
"Good," she said with a faint, knowing smile.
"Now, go. Leave the throne, the noble talk, and focus. I worry about what you'll face at the school—what powers you might uncover, what shadows you'll have to conquer."
Tsuramo took a deep breath, his heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and determination.
"I'll go," he said softly, already feeling the weight of destiny settle upon him like a cloak of night.