Chapter 75: A Being That defies all laws of existence

Chapter 75: Chapter 75: A Being That defies all laws of existence

"What do you mean by that?" Theon’s voice cut through the silence.

Nova did not answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on Lazaria, unmoving, as though he were trying to see straight through her skin to whatever lay beneath it.

Something had changed in his expression. The easy amusement and lazy confidence he had carried only moments earlier were gone completely. What remained was a stillness Theon hadn’t seen on him before, the look of a man who had just found a crack running through something he’d always assumed was solid.

Lazaria felt the weight of his stare and shifted where she stood.

"Why are you still staring at me?"

Nova blinked slowly, as if pulling himself back from somewhere far away.

"Your Aura (magic power)..." His voice was quieter than before. "It isn’t purely demonic, is it?"

Theon caught the shift in his tone at once and turned to look at Lazaria himself.

He reached out with his senses, letting mana spread silently from his body. It moved through the room like a breath finally released, brushing against Lazaria’s presence, searching. He traced the flow of her mana, the shape of her bloodline, the thread of her spiritual energy, even the faintest currents hidden beneath the ordinary surface of her aura.

He found nothing.

Lazaria still felt like Lazaria. The powerful demonic presence he had always known lived inside her sat there, coiled and familiar, but there was nothing beyond it. He withdrew his senses slowly, almost reluctant to admit the search had failed.

"I don’t understand."

Nova studied him for a long moment.

"You can’t sense it either."

"No." The answer came without hesitation. Theon wasn’t in the habit of pretending he understood more than he did, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Nova turned back toward Lazaria, something calculating behind his gaze.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

"Your senses." He let the words sit before continuing. "They’re powerful. Apparently not powerful enough to perceive what lives inside her."

A flicker of irritation crossed Theon’s face. "That doesn’t answer my question."

Nova’s mouth curved, faint and humorless. "I know."

Theon held his stare until Nova finally exhaled, some of the theater falling away from him.

"There is something inside that girl that shouldn’t be there."

Lazaria’s expression pulled tight, the color draining slightly from her face.

"Something inside me?"

"Yes."

"What exactly?"

"I don’t know."

That admission struck harder than Theon expected. Nova was a primordial demon who had lived through the collapse of an entire realm and thousands of years of war. He had looked at Ifrith, a being older and more dangerous than almost anything else in existence, and known him on sight. Yet here he stood, unable to name the thing curled inside a girl Theon had known for months.

Theon looked at Lazaria again. Whatever calm she usually wore like armor had slipped. For once she looked just as lost as everyone else in the room.

Then a voice rose inside his mind, quiet and familiar enough that his body reacted before his thoughts caught up.

*That girl.*

Theon went very still.

He knew the voice at once. Cryvathar.

*A being like her defies all laws.*

*What exactly do you mean?* Theon kept his face neutral, aware of Nova watching him closely even without understanding what passed between him and the spirit bound to his soul.

Cryvathar was quiet for a moment, as if weighing how much to say.

*Her bloodline is abnormal.*

Theon already knew that much. It wasn’t news to him.

*She carries the aura of the Demon King,* Cryvathar went on. *That alone wouldn’t be surprising. Lazaria has never hidden what she is.*

*But that’s not all.*

Theon’s jaw tightened. *What else does she have?*

Another pause, longer this time.

*Spirit Aura.*

Theon looked at Lazaria as though seeing something new layered over a face he already knew.

*Spirit?*

*Yes.*

A demon. And a spirit. Two bloodlines that should never share the same body, born from origins too far apart. Even where demons and spirits managed to coexist peacefully, their natures stayed separate. Theon had never once heard of a being carrying both, not in any book, not in any old story Ifrith had ever let slip.

*Are you saying she’s both?*

*Yes.*

Theon said nothing. He only looked at Lazaria, turning the impossible shape of it over in his mind.

Half demon. Half spirit.

That should not have been possible. Or at least, that was what he had always believed, right up until this moment.

*Then what is her true bloodline?*

Cryvathar answer landed like a stone dropped into still water.

*She is the Demon King’s daughter.*

Theon’s breath caught somewhere in his chest. For several long seconds he said nothing at all, his gaze fixed on Lazaria while the words settled into place.

*The Demon King’s daughter?*

*Yes.*

Theon turned his head toward her fully.

Lazaria noticed the shift immediately. "What?"

He hesitated, the question forming slower than he wanted it to.

He remembered something she had told him once, in passing, the way people mention things they have long since made peace with. Her father. She had spoken of him the way someone speaks of a wound that had already closed, distant and final.

Dead. That was what she had said.

Theon had never pushed her on it. Lazaria clearly hadn’t wanted to talk about her family, and he had respected that. But now the memory sat differently in his mind.

"Lazaria."

She looked at him. "What?"

"Your father."

Her expression changed instantly, something guarded sliding into place. "What about him?"

"You told me he died."

She held his gaze. "Yes."

Cryvathar voice returned, low and certain. *Her father is still alive.*

Theon’s composure slipped slightly. *Then why did she say he was dead?*

*Perhaps she believes it. Or perhaps she was never told the truth.*

Theon didn’t like either possibility.

"Are you certain your father is dead?" he asked.

Lazaria frowned, the question clearly catching her off balance. "Why are you asking me that now?"

"Just answer."

She hesitated, something uncertain flickering across her face before she buried it. "Yes. As far as I know, he’s dead."

Theon said nothing, and the silence stretched long enough that Lazaria noticed.

"Why?"

He wanted to tell her everything right there, but he couldn’t, not when he barely understood it himself. Instead he turned toward Nova.

Nova was still watching Lazaria like she was a puzzle he couldn’t put down.

"You sensed it too," Theon said.

"I did."

"What exactly did you sense?"

Nova folded his arms across his chest, and for a moment the old, easy arrogance crept back into his posture, though his expression stayed grim. "I already told you. Her aura isn’t purely demonic."

Theon waited.

"There is something spiritual woven into her existence," Nova went on. "Not an external blessing. Not some possession riding along beside her soul. It is part of her. It always has been."

Lazaria’s voice came out smaller than usual. "What are you saying?"

Nova looked at her directly, and in that moment there was no humor in it at all.

"You are a contradiction."

The color left her face a little more. "What?"

"A demon carrying the aura of a spirit." Nova’s tone dropped, almost reverent in its unease. "Something like that shouldn’t exist."

The room went quiet enough that Theon could hear Lyra’s slow breathing from the bed behind them where he had placed her the moment she fell asleep .

He studied Lazaria. For once the confidence she usually wrapped around herself like a second skin had cracked clean through. She was strong. She was proud, sometimes to the point of being impossible to deal with. But right now she looked like someone who had just found out the ground she had been standing on her whole life might not be real.

"I don’t understand," she whispered.

Theon stepped closer to her. "Neither do I."

He glanced toward Nova. "And apparently neither does he."

Nova gave a small, humorless nod. "That is why your existence strikes me as strange," he said, still looking at Lazaria.

Theon’s attention sharpened. "Then who does know?"

Nova didn’t answer.

Theon waited, giving him space to fill the silence. Nothing came.

"Nova."

"I don’t know."

Theon let out a long breath. Of course. Another mystery to add to a pile that was already too tall to see over. As if a collapsing Primordial Realm wasn’t enough on its own, now Lazaria’s very bloodline turned out to be something that shouldn’t exist, and the father she had buried in her own mind years ago might be walking around somewhere, very much alive.

He rubbed at his forehead, feeling the start of a headache that had nothing to do with magic.

"This keeps getting better."

Silver let out a low chuckle. "Unfortunately, Master, that does seem to be the shape of your life."

Theon shot her a look sharp enough to cut, and silver’s smile vanished at once.

"Understood."

The tension in the room eased slightly, just enough to breathe in. But only for a moment.

Theon turned back to Lazaria, who was still working through everything that had been said, her arms wrapped loosely around herself.

"You’re not going to suddenly disappear because of this," he told her.

She looked up. "What?"

"You heard me."

He kept his voice steady, deliberate. "Whatever you are, you’re still Lazaria."

Something shifted behind her expression, a flicker of feeling she didn’t seem to know what to do with. Of everything said in that room, those few plain words seemed to land the hardest.

She lowered her gaze to the floor. "I don’t even know what I am anymore."

Theon didn’t rush to fill the quiet that followed. When he finally spoke, it was simple.

"Then we’ll figure it out."

She looked up again. "We?"

"Yes."

His expression didn’t waver. "If there’s something strange in your bloodline, we’ll uncover the truth behind it. Together."

He paused. "Just not here."

Lazaria nodded slowly, something in her shoulders loosening even if the fear hadn’t fully left her.

Nova watched the two of them without a word, arms still crossed, something unreadable moving behind his expression.

Then Theon remembered him and turned.

"What do you plan to do now?"

Nova’s expression shifted, the certainty he had worn through the whole exchange slipping away.

"What do you mean?"

"You’re free," Theon said, gesturing loosely at the space where the restraints still sat. "You’re no longer sealed."

Nova looked down at his own hands as though they belonged to someone else. Then he lifted his gaze to Ifrith.

The old Dark lord had stayed silent through the entire exchange, watching everything unfold with the patience of someone who had already lived through worse.

Nova approached him and lowered his head slightly. " Dark One."

Ifrith’s expression softened, just barely. "Yes?"

"I have a request."

Ifrith said nothing, only waited.

"Please return to the Primordial Demon Realm."

The room fell silent again.

Something tightened faintly around Ifrith’s eyes, though he didn’t speak right away. Nova pressed on before he could.

"The realm has grown worse."

His voice carried a weight Theon hadn’t heard from him before, something close to grief.

"The chaos has spread further than what I described to you."

Theon stayed quiet, listening closely to every word.

"Factions have risen since the collapse. Some have grown strong. Some have formed alliances that won’t last. Others simply fight, over territory, over scraps, over nothing at all."

Nova’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Your absence left a wound that never closed."

Ifrith remained quiet, his face unreadable, but he was listening to every word.

"There are still demons who believe you never truly abandoned them," Nova said, his voice lower now. "They still wait for you. They believe that one day the Dark One shall return."

Theon watched Ifrith carefully. There was no anger in him, no trace of the pride Theon might have expected from a being who had once ruled an entire realm of demons. What sat on his face instead was something closer to exhaustion, the kind that came from carrying something for far too long.

"You are our ruler," Nova said.

"I was." Ifrith replied

"You could restore order." Nova continued

"If I wanted to." Ifrith replied. While looking down towards Nova

Something in Nova stilled at that. " Dark one."

"I said I could."

Ifrith met his eyes evenly. "But I won’t."

Nova’s face fell, some of the hope draining out of it. "Why?"

Ifrith turned his gaze toward Theon, and his answer came without hesitation, without any of the weight one might expect from giving up a throne.

"Because I already have a master here, and I am satisfied with him."

Theon felt the words settle over him, heavier than he expected.

Nova followed Ifrith’s gaze until his own eyes landed on Theon. For several seconds he only stared, something working itself out behind his expression.

Then he laughed, not unkindly, closer to something nostalgic than mocking.

"That explains it."

Ifrith nodded once.

Nova shook his head slowly. "You have changed."

"I wouldn’t go that far."

"You used to complain every single day."

Ifrith’s mouth twitched. "About what, exactly?"

"The throne." Nova’s smile widened, some of the old warmth returning to it. "The endless petitions. The territorial disputes. The clans constantly demanding your judgment on things beneath your notice. The ones who thought they could challenge your authority and never learned better."

Ifrith let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I remember it all."

"You hated all of it."

"I hated every part of it."

Nova laughed again, and for a moment the weight in the room lifted. "And now you’ve found someone else to serve."

Ifrith glanced toward Theon once more. "Yes."

Theon crossed his arms, unable to keep the dry edge out of his voice. "I’m starting to understand why he complained so much."

That pulled another laugh out of Nova, and even Ifrith allowed himself the smallest smile.

But Nova wasn’t finished yet.

"You could return temporarily."

"No."

"Just for a while. Long enough to steady things."

"No."

"Even if the realm collapses entirely without you?"

Ifrith’s expression sobered at once. "I have already made my choice."

Nova looked at him for a long moment, searching for some crack in his resolve. He found none.

The answer was final, and no argument was going to move it.

Nova lowered his head. "I understand."

Disappointment clung to his voice, thick enough that Theon could hear it plainly.

Theon watched the two of them, the weight of centuries hanging between them, and finally stepped forward.

"Nova."

Nova looked at him.

"You don’t have to worry."

"About what?"

"The Primordial Demon Realm."

Nova went quiet, waiting.

"I can’t promise you everything will be fixed right away," Theon said, keeping his voice level despite not fully knowing how he was going to manage what he was about to promise. "But the Primordial Demon Realm will be restored."

Nova stared at him. "You intend to restore it. Yourself."

"Yes."

Theon glanced toward Ifrith. "He’s chosen to stay here." Then back to Nova. "That doesn’t mean the realm has to stay broken forever."

Disbelief moved across Nova’s face, slowly giving way to something warmer. For a moment he seemed to have lost the words entirely.

Then he bowed his head. "I understand."

Theon walked toward Lazaria. "Release him."

She nodded and stepped toward Nova. The restraints wrapped around his body began to dissolve, one binding at a time, shattering into fine particles of light that drifted upward and disappeared before they ever reached the floor.

Nova rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers slowly, testing the feel of a body that hadn’t fully answered to him in longer than Theon could imagine. After thousands of years bound and sealed away, freedom sat strangely on him, almost foreign, like a coat that no longer fit quite right.

He looked down at his hands, then over at Ifrith. The two demons regarded each other in silence.

Ifrith nodded.

Nova returned the gesture, and nothing more needed to be said between them.

He turned to Theon. "I will remember your kindness."

Theon nodded back.

Nova’s mouth curved into something almost fond. "Master of my master."

Theon raised an eyebrow. "That’s going to take some getting used to."

Nova laughed, and then his body ignited with demonic energy, dark and heavy, rolling off him in waves that stirred the air around them. He rose off the ground, hovering there for a breath, before glancing down one final time. His gaze found Ifrith’s.

"Until we meet again."

"Until then."

Nova turned and shot off into the distance, faster than Theon’s eyes could properly track, and within moments his shape had vanished past the horizon entirely.

Silence settled back over the room.

Theon kept staring toward the place where Nova had disappeared, turning the shape of an entire realm over in his mind. The Primordial Demon Realm. A place built by primordial demons, torn apart by thousands of years of war, and now, apparently, waiting on him to fix it.

He let out a long breath. "I really didn’t ask for this."

Ifrith stepped up beside him. "Master."

"What?"

"You just promised to restore an entire realm."

"I know."

"You may have handed yourself another responsibility."

Theon looked at him flatly. "I know that too."

Ifrith’s mouth curved faintly. "Then I believe everything will turn out fine."

"You’re strangely optimistic for someone who just watched me make that promise."

"I have you as my master."

"That isn’t an explanation."

"It is to me."

Theon shook his head, unable to hold back the small, tired smile tugging at his mouth. Before he could respond properly, his attention caught on Lyra.

She was still curled up asleep on the bed, undisturbed by everything that had just unfolded around her. The exhaustion of the last several hours had finally caught up to her completely, pulling her under deep enough that none of it had reached her.

Theon crossed the room and lifted her carefully, cradling her against his chest. She barely stirred, murmuring something too quiet to make out before settling again.

"Easy," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

He carried her over to Lazaria. "Take her to her chamber."

Lazaria nodded, some of her usual steadiness returning now that there was something simple and familiar to do. "I’ll take care of her."

"Make sure she gets proper rest."

"I will."

She gathered Lyra gently into her arms and carried her toward the adjoining chamber. Theon watched until the two of them disappeared from view.

Then he turned.

Seraphina was asleep as well, curled into herself on the far side of the room. She had been through more than enough for one night, and Theon felt no urge to disturb her either.

The room had finally gone quiet. Too quiet, in the way that always seemed to happen right before something else needed saying.

Theon turned toward Silver and Ifrith. Neither of them spoke.

He studied them both for a long moment, long enough that Silver’s fingers began to fidget slightly at her side.

Then he lifted one hand, and a translucent barrier expanded outward from his palm, wrapping around the three of them until it sealed shut. No sound from inside would reach beyond it now.

Silver understood immediately what that meant, and Ifrith did too.

Theon stepped closer to them, and whatever calm had settled over his face during the moment with Lyra was gone now, replaced with something more deliberate.

"You two." He let the words sit there for a moment. "Don’t you think it’s finally time you came clean and told me everything?"

Silence.

Silver’s fingers curled tighter against her sleeve.

Ifrith looked at him steadily, saying nothing yet.

Theon waited, giving them room to speak first. He wasn’t angry, not exactly. But he was finished accepting half of a story when he knew there was more sitting just beneath the surface.

For too long now, pieces of the past had kept surfacing around him without warning. The Dark One. The Primordial Demon Realm. The Demon King. Lazaria. The Spirit Aura threaded through her like something that had always belonged there. Cryvathar. And the strange, tangled connections running through all of it, connections Theon was beginning to suspect had existed long before he ever stepped into this story at all.

He wanted the truth. All of it, without anything held back this time.

Ifrith finally lowered his head. "You’re right, Master."

Theon said nothing, giving him room to continue.

Ifrith drew a slow breath. Beside him, Silver stayed quiet, her eyes fixed somewhere on the floor.

Then Ifrith stepped forward, closing some of the distance between them.

"There are things you deserve to know."

Theon crossed his arms. "Then tell me."

Ifrith looked into his eyes, and something ancient rose behind his own, A memory buried beneath more centuries than Theon could begin to count.

"All right, Master."

He paused, gathering the weight of whatever came next.

"Let me start from the beginning."

The room went completely still.

Ifrith’s voice dropped lower, steady and slow, carrying the first thread of something that had waited a very long time to be spoken aloud.

"Since the dawn of time..."

And with those words, the story of the ancient world began at last.