Odiva stood on the top floor mezzanine overlooking the Grand Hall of Nahar. Grand hall was what they called it, but perhaps it was that only in purpose for these types of festivities. It was a roofless auditorium, encircled by Nar's typical thick columns as its walls. The light red and black curtains embroidered with golden patterns which dressed and hung from these columns, added that certain imperious flair. Temperatures in Nar were always so high, it was common for buildings to have wide open spaces and welcome breeze to spread its cool relief.

Down below, Odiva watched as the guests celebrated her sister's wedding, each race in their so specific way. The few angels present with their immutable stolid expressions; always sticking together; always observant and ever so amusingly disciplined, shining with their white and golden hairs. At least they held drinks in one hand, making them look less like bodyguards (not that Odiva recalled ever seeing an angel drunk).

Her fellow demons, were quite the opposite, of course. Sweaty, rambunctious, and forever shameless. Again, demons lived for celebrations just as much as they loved destruction. This party was going well now, but Odiva didn't need Seer powers to expect some bloodshed at some point. So long as they never aimed at a Seer, or an angel, the witches were happy to spectate demons going at each other's throats when they were ripe and ready. And like volunteers to open arena games, the fools never failed to oblige. More so if the desperate need to impress one Seer or two presented itself. All this happening under the steady gaze of the angels. If the celestials could laugh, they were probably doing it from within. Odiva did love her kin, but at most times, she wondered if they would ever evolve from their dimwittedness. If the Seers would ever bother to lead demons properly; into becoming something more, with clear and worthy goals. The Seers could do it, if they cared enough, or weren’t so obsessed with clinging to their own traditions. Still, it was far too soon for Odiva to concern herself with changes in Hell. She had her own issues to deal with first. Maybe after…

Jahi, too, had drunk her fill, and it showed. Tonight, she wasn’t the perfect witch. Tonight, her sister laughed and cackled, savouring her husband’s attentions and, apparently, his uproarious sense of humour. Odiva recalled now how rare it was to see Jahi like this. She was shining brighter than any angel present.

Jahi lived to fulfil everyone's expectations but her own. It was the image all of Nar built around not only Jahi, but of their small family, only for Odiva to become the persistent stain on that, otherwise immaculate image. After their mother died, despite being a child herself, Jahi took the mantle as lead of the family, while their decrepit grandmother busied herself with burying Odiva under her heel, as though if left alone, Odiva would bring Nar’s doomsday itself. Perhaps Odiva could. Perhaps she would, if she could. Just to spite the creaky old bag.

Once Sioh passed on, Odiva was finally free to follow her true calling, only to find that she wasn’t as nearly as powerful as their weakest Seer.

She was smarter, though. Deception and heaps of deductive strategies worked wonders if one knew how to apply them properly. Still, demons lived long, and trickeries did not. Longer-lived still, was the reputation of the Seers which Odiva relentlessly assaulted with her parlour tricks.

Then, like a poorly written play to soothe her ego, Odiva was presented with the Seer ceremony. And then her eyes turned black. It was clear that no one, (not even the High Seer and Jahi who orchestrated the ceremony) foresaw that one coming. Odiva herself was terrified at first, complaining to Jahi for months. But then it dawned: What did it even matter?

She was finally a Seer. A weak, limited Seer, yes, but she was on the cusp of changing everything, by her own hands. Not just for herself. It pained her to admit it, but Jahi deserved freedom to focus on her new family, if that was her wish. What mattered most was to see her sister's smile, free of worries, as she was now.

Odiva’s power was there; somewhere, but it was there. It was just locked away. Samael had given her the means, now she just needed to see it through. She would do it when Jahi retired to change her gowns for the wedding night. If it worked, she would worry about the angel’s conditions after.

Where she stood, Odiva’s thoughts were interrupted when she felt someone from behind. Something like soundless shock waves she sensed, from head to toe. For a moment, she thought of Samael, or maybe it was another Seer who taunted her; but no. That musty smell; it was the scent of a warrior.

From behind, they held a lock of her hair.

“You’re the one they call… Odiva. The black-eyed witch.” The voice was deep, sending shivers down her spine, and while she gripped the hand railing tightly, she was unable to face this nameless demon.

He sniffed her hair deeply, and when he exhaled, his heated breath brushed past her naked shoulders. She flinched.

“Your hair… it’s as smooth as it looks from across the room. I wanted to touch it.”

To approach her like this, to even dare touch her, even if she was still a novice, it went beyond all levels of insult. Any other Seer would've immediately seen this demon bereft of his senses. Yet his voice drummed in the pit of her stomach. He let out a low chuckle, before his hand rested on the same handrail she lightly pressed her stomach against. Still, she could not make herself turn. Her eyes travelled the length of his hand and forearm. Red Fur.  

His body pressed against hers ever so lightly. It was not enough to feel all of him, though plenty to make her jolt at his size. More than the insult Odiva struggled with, she couldn’t make sense of her own failure to break out of whatever spell this demon had cast on her.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He said in low tones, his fingers twirling the lock of her long hair. “You don’t even have to turn around. This is enough… for now.”

“W-who…” She tried.

“You were with Samael earlier. You two are… close?”

Perhaps it was the mention of the angel’s name that did it. Whatever it was, it finally broke her paralysis and Odiva turned to face him. He did not pull back, and so her back was practically pinned against the railing. He was broad and tall this one; all red. He had to hunch slightly to meet her eyes and curiously tilted his head at her while she studied him. She clenched her teeth in frustration. Any other Seer would be able to immediately determine what kind of demon they faced, and what their intentions were, but Odiva never had it easy. Her wits it was going to have to be, seeing as even what little powers she had had fled with her good sense. 

From the bottom up, there were no elegant clothes on him, aside from his black trousers. His muscled torso was exposed, and he stood proudly on his hooves, while his long black hair was pulled in a topknot. She was stunned when she reached the top of his head. This demon had only one horn. One hand quickly covered her mouth, but it was too late to stop the onslaught. “Pffft— HAHAHAHA!!!”

It didn’t surprise him in the least it seemed, with the pit of his red irises never wavering. Instead, his black lips curled into an appreciative smile.  “There you are… Odiva.” He said the last, as though he had in fact tasted her name.

“What is going on with that?” She muttered, waving a finger at him while wiping a small tear on the corner of her eye.

“Hmm. You are a Seer, no?”

That shortened her merriment. “Of course I am. One of the greatest in Nahar.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “Just Nahar? Not Nar?” He gave another of his low chuckles. “Every other Seer I’ve met says the same. They give you a script to memorise in Seer school?”

She looked him over once more, the old frustration returning. He was too bold for the low-class demon he should be, with that one horn. And those eyes, she was sure he had been the one seeking her before. 

She pressed an accusatory finger on his chest. “I could have your head just for the way you look at me. Who are you? What is it you want with me? And what’s going on with your horn?”

He finally pulled back, dropping her hair, and Odiva debated with mild irritation over the emptiness of the space he had just occupied.

“So many questions... as expected from one of the greatest Seers of Nahar. ” He cocked his head clearly amused, while she resisted biting her lip. “You wouldn’t have heard of me. But you will.” He said, leaning on the handrail, taking the view of the guests rejoicing below them. “The great city of Nahar. My friends tell me it’s off limits. I had to come see for myself.”

“Off limits? From what?” She asked, her impatience growing.

“From me.”

Again, a chortle escaped her. Even if he was Hell’s most confident demon, to even consider Nar being under threat of this savage-looking-one-horned demon was too hilarious. She wasn’t sure if he was just being humorous, but she felt more herself, regardless. The red demon in turn quietly watched her laugh with a serene gaze.

“You're either deranged or new around here,” she said, sensing her mocking tone was perhaps too forced. “Is this your first life in Hell? Were you a human before? You must’ve caused some serious damage to be reborn here and end up looking like that. It’s a tremendous achievement, for a soul — I salute you. But as far as your after-life goes, you’re nothing but a cute babe.”

"For a Seer, you ask a lot of questions." He chuckled. "Cuteness aside, what do you actually see?” He asked, turning his gaze to the crowd, to which Odiva felt some relief. Every time their eyes met, she could not help but feel she was the one being read.

“Try a mirror, darling.” She said curtly. “Now, if you’re after a reading, I'll tell you this much, since you clearly don't know the rules around here. We don’t do readings without the High Seer's consent. In my case, I don't do them if not in her presence. You’re wasting your time”

The red demon rested his eyes on her again, studying her hair and face intently. “Wasting my time? You think so? I thought this wedding was going to be tedious. Who cares about weddings. It’s the children that matter. My women never complained.” At that, and only for a moment, his gaze changed and for the first time, Odiva suspected he dropped whatever act he was putting on. Perhaps he shared the values the Seers had when it came to children. Continuing the bloodline was one of the most sacred commitments. His thinking certainly did not level with the rest of the other demons. He was thinking, for one.

“Women? You must have sired a thousand children by now.” She heard herself utter before she’d even considered.

He smirked, while his hooded eyes regained some of the initial amusement. “Close enough. I never seem to have enough, as it turns out.”

“So you came to Nahar, in the hopes of finding a few Seers to carry your seed?”

“Something like that. Strong hips, and a functioning brain are a must. That’s the minimum requirement. It’s not about how many children they’ll give me; it’s the quality I’m after.” His eyes unabashedly studied her curves. “It’s good news, though, as from where I’m standing, this marriage thing doesn’t seem so boring after all.”

“If you fancy challenging your lifespan, by all means, take your pick.” She quickly retorted, though her usual confidence was still nowhere to be found. “Seers love a good wedding.”

“I really don’t care, but I’m glad I came.” He said, a kind of unwary amusement coated his smile.

“The way you talk… You really have no idea where you are, have you?” She asked, intent on taking some control of this strange conversation. “How do you even know Samael?”

His hooded gaze confirmed nothing. He reached for her hair again, this time tucking it behind her ear. “Mm. Let’s say we are something like distant relatives.”

One of his thick fingers brushed passed her ear, and Odiva closed her eyes. Inside her mind, whispers danced, yet she could hardly make sense of any of it. ‘Follow him’, ‘Take him’, ‘It’s him’.

The urge to touch him rose in her, but he beat her to it. The rough-edged fur on the back of his hand caressed her cheek and travelled the length of her neck. “Is Nar as far as you’ll go, Odiva?” He murmured, shunning the whispers inside her mind. She opened her eyes to see him much closer than she expected, her hand already reaching for his chest.

‘Not yet!’ A strong whisper stopped her. She looked into the demon’s eyes and suddenly it hit her. A distant relative of Samael’s? How?

Odiva’s eyes widened. A fallen one?

Odiva had never come across one, but she’d heard of them. Rare beings who had once been angels but had somehow committed grave sins. What exactly those sins were, no one knew. They were too strong to simply have killed, which would give them the opportunity to be reborn as humans. They were unworthy of such mercies. So, they were stripped of their powers, expelled from Heaven and condemned to Hell. Most, as it was told, would end up giving into the wild emotions and temptations they had been so deprived of since birth, becoming mindless demons; but this one in front of her… there was a different kind of thirst in his eyes. Ambition danced in them.

“Odiva,” he said, tasting her name again. “The next time we meet, you will be whole. And you will know my name.”

It was for a brief moment, but Odiva could swear that his red eyes then flashed a vicious green before he left.