At the center of town, within the city council building, sat a round table. The room had high ceilings with ornamental blue cloth hung around the room, that traveled the length of the round ceiling and continued downward in a spiral formation around the table leaving the entrance free from it. Each council member was dressed in business attire, consisting of a black robe with blue accents and a silver crest over the chest. The crest had the profile view of a woman’s face, but from the forehead, a horn was present on one side, and behind it, a wing extended beyond the crest’s shape.

“We will now begin today’s meeting!” A man says as he stands up.

“No need to keep with the stuffy formalities. We’ve been doing this for many years already.” Another says.

The standing man glares at him.

“Mikhail, you’re simply too casual at these meetings!” He shouts.

“Sheesh, Dragovich. You’re so loud this early in the morning. Aren’t you too old to raise your blood pressure like this?” A woman states.

Dragovich sighs, rubbing his shiny bald head and furrowing his bushy gray eyebrows.

“Lyxene, if we don’t maintain some semblance of order, the rest of Aitura will crumble. All of us were selected to lead this place. Should we not be the example the people follow?” Dragovich says while stroking his beard. Lyxene nests her cheek in her hand. She had had short brown hair with red highlights, and a long bang that hung out over her nose. Her skin was pale and her eyes were like emeralds. Her lips were a soft peach color and her expression was somewhat forlorn as if plagued by something bogging her down. 

“What’s the point? We already filtered out the scum. Everyone here more or less understands how to be a decent human being.” Lyxene says while leaning her head back.

“She has a point.” Mikhail chimes in, pointing his index finger upward.

Dragovich sighs and palms his forehead.

“Alright, that's enough of that for now. There are bigger problems at hand.” A woman said. She sat at the edge of the table with shimmering long black hair, and dark vibrant skin. She had a glare on her face directed at everyone else while her deep ultramarine eyes appeared to carry a lack of luster. Beneath her eyes were dark circles that made her look older.  Protruding from her back were elegant pure white wings. Wearing a dignified look on her face and a commanding voice, she forced everyone else to cease their side conversations.

“Mirelle, it’s been over twenty years since the incidents began. Whomever the culprit is, we lack the resources to find out.” Mikhail states.

“As much as I hate to agree, he’s right. We’ve been increasing the guards patrolling the city, but none of them ever catch a glimpse of anything.” Dragovich says.

Lyxene grins.

“Then we’ll have to change our methods up.” She adds.

“How?” Mikhail questions.

Another member of the council stands up. The other members look at the usually silent man. He had pale blue skin, with a long tail. His sclera was completely black save for his glowing yellow irises. He had two horns protruding from his head in a spiral pattern with the segments between each part of the horn glowing red.

“You didn’t have someone like me, 20 years ago.” He states. “There aren’t many mages left, but I’m one of the few remaining. I’m sure a few of you question my validity as I am a demon.”

Dragovich scoffs.

“Question it? I deny it outright!” Dragovich exclaims slamming his palm on the table. “How am I supposed to trust a demon?! Your kind killed my wife and destroyed my hometown!”

Lyxene raises her hand at Dragovich.

“You need to chill old man. First off, the demons that destroyed your village are different from these demons. Your anger is misplaced, I thought people were supposed to be wiser with age?” Lyxene questions.

“Sheesh. We can’t even agree on how to catch a criminal plaguing Aitura. With us acting like this it’ll be a long time before we even get any closer to dealing with this issue.” Mikhail says with a grin.

“Debolas, I trust you to look into this. Do what’s necessary. I’ll provide any support you need.” Mirelle states.

“Thank you.” The demon bows.

“Same here, I’d do anything if it means getting away from this boorish place for a while.” She states.

Mirelle glares at Lyxene and Lyxene merely throws her hands up with a grin.

“Then I’ll begin doing research of my own into this.” He says with a bow.

Dragovich sucks his teeth.

“Good luck, Debolas. We’ve got a slippery one this time.” He states.

Debolas leaves the room and Lyxene gets up to go with him.

“Leave this to us,” Lyxene exclaims before leaving.

“It was a mistake to bring him on,” Dragovich states.

Mirelle sighs.

“He’s done nothing wrong. You’re aware of how the amount of soul coins one has amassed throughout their life, is one of the key factors for getting onto the council correct?” She states.

“Of course I am.” She says.

“He’s amassed more coins than any of us here,” Mirelle says. “The man you consider to be the most morally questionable of us all has done the most good among us. Think about that. If anything I’d question what you’ve done for the council.”

“What?!” Dragovich questions.

“Do you think we have the time to be arguing and causing strife amongst each other like this?” She questions before rising from the table and leaves.

Dragovich rubs his temples and heaves deeply, his eyes grow red and tears fill them.

“I don’t even know what is going on anymore. What does the matriarch expect of us? A few humans, a demon, and an angel. How are we supposed to protect Aitura?! I couldn’t protect my wife, even down here! She sits up there on her throne and does… Nothing!” He exclaims.

Mikhail calmly rises from his chair and walks over to Dragovich.

“The matriarch does nothing because why would she offer to assist lesser beings? Everything is our problem because she made it so. Demons, humans, and angels all working together? That's a laugh. You and I both know those horned bastards deserve every bit of torture they get in hell. ” Mikhail mutters.

He continues walking around the table, and Dragovich looks up at him. 

“What are you getting at?” Dragovich questions.

“I’m saying we need to do what needs to be done.” Mikhail hands Dragovich a key. “Are you going to let the matriarch look down upon us, laughing all the while, letting the demons and angels walk all over us because we’re weaker?”

A wave of anger begins rising through Dragovich’s body. A hand red protruding through the ground caresses his back. Dragovich is shaking with anger and rage, as he slams his fists on the table.

“Hell no!” Dragovich rises.

“Then to turn this place into a true haven, we need to do some cleaning,” Mikhail whispers.

“I’m with you, brother,” Dragovich states.

Mikhail grins as he shakes Dragovich’s hand.

“All it takes is feeding someone a little regret and voila, they flip. When I’m done here, my magic will reach the very pinnacle and there will be nothing I can’t do.” He thinks.

Mikhail begins leaving with Dragovich and after turning the corner, the two of them part ways. Not even seconds after he grabs the side of his head. His vision is fading, everything around him spinning with no end in sight. Mikhail lets out a low growl, as the pain in his head only increased by the second.

“I can tell you’re suffering. Just make this easier and give me my body back!” A voice booms.

“This… Is Nothing!” He exclaims.

A voice fills his mind loud enough that each word feels as though it were booming from mountaintops. The small drizzle of words, hastened, becoming an avalanche, supplying endless pain at his temples. He lands on his knees and a mix of sweat, tears, and saliva drips down his face, and onto the pristine red carpet.

“Give me my body back!” The voice resounds. “You’ve done enough harm!”

Mikhail grins through the pain like a madman, then leans against the wall.

“You’re a tenacious bastard, I’ll give you that. But I won’t be returning… Anything. Sit there and watch while I’m in control, you cur.” He states.

“What did you murder all those mages for? All for some vague pinnacle of magic? You sound insane.” The voice exclaims.

“Ether is the heart of all things… Magic is the faithful study of it! You wouldn’t know anything about it, you talentless wretch!” He exclaims.

Mikhail stands up as the pain begins to lessen, and leans against the smooth marble wall, while slowly walking to his room. He passes by various other wooden doors and arrives at one in particular before entering and shutting the door behind him.