When the ancient looking doors opened, Eos marched through with purpose as his voice boomed through the vaulted room.

“Presenting Lark of the Citia church, to their royal highness; Ammut of the royal city of Azure.”

Lark’s gaze went around the room; from the high ceiling covered in paintings and stained glass of all matter of fiery colors to the gorgeously detailed windows. Black stone like the rest of the city but with gold and silver threading through them in fascinating patterns built up the walls. Dim, round light bulbs floated in the empty air above and a golden chandelier, suspended by nothing, spun in slow circles as spots of light danced across the entire room. The floor was bright red marble, carved with more hieroglyphic imagery in muted crimson color.

Then, his eyes caught the real jewel of the room.

On a simple wooden chair, a stark contrast to the opulence around them, was a demon. Antler-like horns sprouted from their forehead, splitting their red, almost black hair that lay handsomely about their shoulders. Practically the spitting image of the first portrait Lark had seen. Fingers tapped on the armrest while their poised shoulders leaned forward, ruby red eyes with a surprising friendliness trained on Lark below a set of carpeted stairs. When they spoke, their voice was silky, if not more casual than he anticipated.

“You look terrified.”

It took a moment for Lark to register the comment. “Uh… Um…”

“Please don’t look like I’ve already sent you to a dungeon. Did Eos scare you?” Laughing, Ammut stood and walked down the stairs. His laugh was so light and full of humor it made Lark loosen up. Shaking his head and relaxing his shoulders Lark put a hand on the bag he held. It felt a bit strange now in the presence of demon royalty.

“He was showing me the portrait hallway.” Glancing at Eos, who was still as a statue, Lark turned back to address the demon king. “I never knew much of your history. He was very informative.”

Ammut turned to the knight and gave a toothy smile before settling into a more modest expression. “Oh, that’s nice. My family history is older than most things. I'm glad you took interest.”

Lark sheepishly nodded, comforted by their gentle voice.

“I admit the gaudiness of my predecessors… irks me but I am grateful for the chance to change things how I wish granted my position.” With a melancholy tone, Ammut looked out the window for just a moment. Eos cleared his throat and tried to hide a smile.

“The infrastructure of the realm has changed considerably under Ammut’s care. They have come a long way in many regards.”

“Hmm hmm.” Waving a hand dismissively, Ammut rolled his eyes bashfully. “I take credit where it’s due but please keep the praise to a minimum.”

“As you wish, your grace. “ Eos said, a smile lingering on his face.

Then Ammut clapped their hands, a few of the lightbulbs blinking on with soft blue light, floating down closer around them. The bulbs themselves were completely normal but to simply clap their hands and command them to shine was a particular mastery of glyphs Lark rarely if ever saw. “Down to business.”

He pointed a clawed finger at Lark, who let out a startled flinch. “You’re carrying something. Meis said it was for the church here.” His eyes narrowed as Lark took the bag off his shoulder.

“Usually they give me books or knick-knacks. What you carry is different.”

Getting restless, Lark lifted the bag up. It beat in tandem with the quickened pace of his own heart. With a colder expression than before, Ammut held his hand open in invitation.

“That. Give it to me.”

The atmosphere of the room got heavy and Lark could see Eos’ grip tighten on the handle of his spear. With uncertain fingers, Lark took the small glyph-covered package from the bag. Eos stepped over with an outstretched hand, and Lark placed it in the demon’s palm, watching as it was then bequeathed to Ammut. Turning it over in their hands, Ammut eyes the package with wary interest, cat-like pupils narrowed. Peeling a corner of the wrapping off and ripping some of the glyphs, he hissed something incomprehensible.

“This is a shard broken off from Phelmacitia’s own crystal. Why on earth would they want the branch here to house it.” 

He continued to unwrap it to show a gleaming object in the shape of an uneven raindrop. A cavern in its center housed a blue liquid that swirled like oil. Lark stared at it, feeling a strange heaviness shroud him. The sudden nausea made his eyelids flutter and legs threaten to buckle underneath him. A voice rang in his head, louder and louder with each beat of his heart. his chest tightened.

Eos was at his side instantly, hand on his back with worry. “Saint, what is the matter?”

Ammut’s attention locked onto Lark as well, and they glanced between the shard and him. Their eyes narrowed angrily but recognition flashed through them.

Dizzy with sickness, Lark did his best to stay upright but succumbed quicker than he expected. Falling to his knees he heaved, thinking it all still a dream. The coolness of the floor suddenly met his cheek with a hard thud and frantic voices rang in his ears.

Head buzzing and body sluggish Lark tried to pick himself up.

Darkness curtained over his vision and his body shivered with cold until he finally lost consciousness.