The Damned Demon

Just before dawn broke, the Nightshade Castle stood solemn and quiet beneath a sky streaked with faint hues of purple and crimson.

Thousands stood restless before the imposing, old fortress. A thrumming anticipation hung heavy in the cold early morning air. The tension was palpable, uncertainty and hope twisting together like the mingled smoke of the torches.

Row upon row of Bloodburn survivors stood closest to the castle gates.

Despite their ragged clothes, sunken eyes, and gaunt faces marred by weeks of hardship, tonight, their eyes shone brighter than the stars overhead. Whispers raced through the assembled masses, anxious but tinged with relief and excitement.

“Our Queen—she’s finally coming out!”

“Do you think she’s well? I heard whispers that she has something important to announce!”

“She’s alive and healthy, that’s all that matters. The rest, we’ll learn soon enough.”

Behind them, Nightshade citizens stood cautiously—some curious, others wary. They had suffered just as much as the Bloodburn refugees but in a different way.

They faced severe resource shortages and bitter hardships, losing more people they cared about in the past few weeks, and their resentful murmurs echoed softly.

Yet tonight, even these disgruntled citizens stood quietly attentive, their own curiosity awakened by the mysterious urgency of the gathering.

They weren’t forced to come but they felt compelled to since the queen of the Bloodburners hadn’t come out for so long. She must be announcing something important to finally come out like this.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant horn echoed across the castle courtyard. The murmurs immediately silenced, replaced by an anxious yet reverent hush.

All eyes lifted upward as the grand gates opened with a slow, heavy groan, and Queen Rowena herself emerged onto the high balcony.

Her figure was silhouetted sharply against the pale horizon, dressed in flowing robes of deep black, trimmed with elegant dragon shaped embroidery.

Her long raven-black hair cascaded gently over her shoulders, framing her striking pale face. Yet it was her gaze—cold yet commanding, fierce yet compassionate—that captured the hearts of her people instantly.

She stepped slowly onto the wide balcony that overlooked the gathered masses. Her appearance brought forth a collective gasp rippling across the crowd.

What immediately drew every gaze, however, was what she held tenderly in her arms—a small bundle, wrapped in royal silken cloth, from which a pair of vivid, dark yellow eyes gazed curiously, blinking innocently at the sea of people below.

But what truly froze them in place was the small bundle she cradled protectively against her chest.

Whispers erupted in disbelief.

“Is that… a child?”

“Whose child is that? It couldn’t be hers, right?”

“It should be hers! Look at that noble face and those eyes…It’s just like His Majesty’s!”

“Impossible! Was the queen pregnant all this time?”

“But… it’s only been weeks since the war ended! How could she have given birth so soon?”

Rowena raised her free hand gracefully, silencing their confusion and disbelief. The tension stretched briefly, thick and heavy. When she finally spoke, her voice rang out clearly and powerfully, echoing through the chilled morning air.

“My beloved people,” she began, her tone firm yet undeniably gentle. “I must first offer my sincerest apologies. For weeks, I have hidden myself away, unable to face you directly. It pained me deeply not to be there among you as you suffered hunger, loss, and despair. Yet my actions were not only due to my guilt of not being able to save our kingdom, but from necessity.”

Her people listened intently, their breaths shallow, their eyes fixed upon her. Rowena’s crimson gaze swept across them, unflinching.

“For all this time, I carried within me a life far more precious than my own—one whose very existence I feared would bring even greater danger upon us if revealed too soon. Yet today, the time for hiding has ended. I stand before you now, vulnerable yet unbroken, to show you proof that even in the darkest of times, hope remains.”

As if waiting for this exact moment, the first rays of dawn broke the horizon, illuminating Rowena and the small bundle she slowly raised upward, presenting the child proudly before the thousands below.

Gasps echoed like a chorus, louder and louder, as the sunlight poured forth, bathing the newborn in a radiant, crimson glow.

The infant’s small form shimmered, her pale skin almost luminous, delicate pointed ears clearly visible even from a distance, and eerie, beautiful eyes glowing faintly gold. The child blinked innocently, cooing softly as if greeting the entire world with wonder.

“Behold!” Rowena’s voice thundered powerfully yet tenderly, “This is my daughter—Ravina Drake, the Bloodburn Princess, Hope of the Demon Kingdom, Child of the Crimson Skies, and Young Lady of House Drake.”

Stunned silence fell once more, the enormity of the moment weighing upon every heart. Eyes widened, mouths hung open in astonishment.

The Bloodburn survivors, overwhelmed with emotion, slowly dropped to their knees, tears beginning to stream freely.

Rowena’s voice resonated with profound strength, her expression steely yet compassionate. “This child was born not from peace, but from destruction—not from victory, but from defeat. Yet her very existence stands as proof that defeat is temporary, that from ruin we can build anew. Let her presence remind you that no darkness lasts forever—that dawn will always come.”

Her cold voice cracked slightly with fierce emotion, yet her gaze never wavered, “As your queen, I swear to you now—I will do everything in my power to rebuild what was taken, and I will avenge what was lost. Until my final breath, I will fight for you and for this child. Ravina will symbolize our unbreakable spirit, our eternal hope. Let those who wish us harm tremble, for we are not broken, we are not defeated—we are Bloodburn.”

With those powerful words, the crowd erupted into cheers so loud they seemed to shake the earth itself. Tears poured from eyes long dried by grief, fists raised passionately into the dawn sky.

“Long live Queen Rowena!”

“Long live Princess Ravina!”

“Bloodburn lives!”

Even the Nightshade citizens found their voices joining the swelling cries, their initial doubts melting beneath the warmth of this miracle presented before them.

They too found themselves believing that this extraordinary child might truly have been sent by destiny itself—a living promise of renewal, of hope.

Cradling her daughter tenderly once more against her chest, Rowena watched her people with pride and resolve, allowing herself a rare, gentle smile.

Her kingdom had faced tragedy and darkness unimaginable—but today, beneath the rising crimson sun, a new chapter was beginning.

And though trials still awaited them all, Rowena knew without a doubt that this newborn child, bathed in dawn’s fierce, hopeful glow, would forever mark the moment the Bloodburn kingdom began its path to rebirth.

—

Few hours before the announcement,

Deep within the ruined halls of what had once been the proud Bloodburn Castle, Drakar sat upon a newly fashioned throne carved crudely from dark iron and bones.

The chamber was dimly lit, shadows crawling along the walls, almost as if recoiling from the malevolent aura radiating from him.

He lounged arrogantly, wings slightly folded, contemplating the next phase of his conquest when suddenly the heavy silence was interrupted by footsteps echoing quietly from the corridor outside.

A cloaked figure appeared silently at the doorway, the hood obscuring the messenger’s face, leaving only the faint glint of narrowed eyes visible beneath.

“Your Majesty,” the messenger began quietly, his voice a rasping whisper, “I bring urgent news.”

Drakar’s eyes flicked upward lazily, his expression bored. “This better be worth my time. I haven’t heard from you despite eating up all those life crystals I gave you,” he growled.

The messenger bowed respectfully, carefully selecting his next words.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty! I have been waiting for confirmation and the right opportunity. Queen Rowena will soon be making a public announcement. She will be announcing the birth of her child, a daughter she calls Ravina.”

Drakar’s indifferent posture stiffened immediately, his eyes widening in shock, “W-What?”

For a fleeting moment, genuine disbelief crossed his cold, ruthless features.

“Rowena has…a child? How could that be possible? She didn’t seem pregnant when I fought her just a few weeks back,” he muttered, voice tight with barely contained surprise.

What kind of black magic was this? Birthing a child within a couple weeks? Was this a ruse to distract him?

No, that can’t be. Drakar briefly glanced at the messenger, knowing he wouldn’t dare lie to him. If he says she did birth a child, then it must be somehow true.

Maybe it was a desperate attempt from her to raise the spirits of her people. After all, there were forbidden ways to quickly birth a child even though such a child will end up being a waste.

Then slowly, like a beast tasting blood, the corners of his mouth curled upward into a cruel, twisted smile. A dark chuckle escaped his lips as the sinister possibilities unfolded in his mind.

The messenger, sensing the shift, silently bowed once more and disappeared swiftly, vanishing into the shadowed corridors.

“Zulgi!” Drakar’s voice boomed through the chamber, echoing off the cold stone walls. Within mere moments, Commander Zulgi entered, his towering form rigid and attentive.

“You summoned me, my king?” Zulgi asked in his usual stoic manner, bowing slightly.

“Indeed,” Drakar’s eyes glittered maliciously as he leaned forward, his voice low and laced with sinister glee. “I have delightful news. Our dear, defeated Queen Rowena has birthed a child. A daughter named Ravina. Such a pretty name, isn’t it?”

Zulgi’s expression shifted subtly, his stern eyes briefly revealing mild surprise before quickly regaining composure, “A child, my king? Then what are your orders?”

Drakar stood from his throne, his massive, leathery wings flexing in restless anticipation. His smile widened cruelly. “Gather a few thousand of our men. Head immediately for the Nightshade Kingdom. Bring me that child alive. Don’t attack any of the survivors unless they intervene, of course. I hope they do so we can finish them all for once.”

Zulgi nodded swiftly, though he hesitated for a moment, his voice cautious. “My lord, forgive my intrusion, but the Bloodcontract you signed with Luna—will it not prevent us from moving directly against Bloodburn survivors?”

Drakar’s smirk deepened into a sinister grin, eyes gleaming with malicious cunning. “That contract is worthless in this case, Zulgi,” he sneered.

“Rowena’s child was born after the fall of Bloodburn. Technically, she is no survivor of the fallen kingdom. Thus, Luna’s precious contract means absolutely nothing.”

He stepped forward, placing a hand upon Zulgi’s armored shoulder, squeezing slightly as though to emphasize his cruel intent. “And should Rowena or her weak and desperate people choose to stand against you—then they will have broken the contract themselves. After all, they will be the ones initiating aggression, not us.”

Zulgi’s eyes gleamed with dark understanding, his lips forming a rare, grim smile, “A wise move, my king. I shall bring you the child within days at most.”

“Excellent,” Drakar murmured, stepping back and returning to his throne with a twisted sense of satisfaction. As Zulgi swiftly exited to carry out his command, Drakar sank leisurely into his seat, laughter bubbling cruelly from deep within his chest.

“Heh, Asher…” he whispered darkly, his voice dripping venomous delight, eyes alight with sadistic anticipation. “How delicious it will be to witness the agony etched upon your face when I slaughter your precious newborn before your very eyes. Or maybe even raise her as my slave. And then…to watch as I make your beloved women suffer, breaking their spirits as slowly and painfully as possible. HAHAHAHA….”

His laughter echoed darkly through the ruined halls, reverberating through the bones and iron, seeping into every shadowed corner, promising agony and despair for the alien dog who almost took everything from him.

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