“Gray! I know you can hear me. Come out!”

  Keilan had returned to his room. After his talk with Sareina, his mind had been so troubled he'd judged it not a good idea to return to work, or any company whatsoever.

  He sat on his bed, legs folded as he waited for the minder to respond. And after multiple calls, he answered.

  “What do you want, human?” Gray’s voice slithered into the room, preceding his figure which drifted into view a moment later.

  Keilan noted the use of word, but filed it away for later. He had more pressing matters.

  “I want to speak to Merak.”

  Gray chuckled. “Everyone wants to speak to the Harbinger of Oblivion. Get in line.”

  “I'm not joking, Gray. I want to speak to Merak, and I will speak to Merak. I do not care about what sort of dark mood you seem to be in right now. I will speak to Merak, and you will help me.”

  Keilan should have said he expected Gray's response, but truly, he hadn't. The Minder had never shown any inclination for violence, either to their enemies, and certainly not to him.

  So when the temperature suddenly dropped, the walls cracking as frost built over them, Keilan was understandably unsettled. And that was excluding the aura of dread that suddenly settled over the room like a wet blanket on a cold morning, freezing him solid despite no accruing pressure.

  “You seem to be under the impression that I take orders from you,” Gray's voice slid out in a whisper, rattling cold, and hard. “Your relation with my charge has deluded you into thinking that we are equals. Let me absolve you of that notion.”

  The wooden legs of Keilan's bed, taken from a tree said to be stronger than even steel, snapped and shattered as the pressure Gray exuded increased by another level, becoming tangible. He grunted and grimaced as he felt an icy grip curl around his heart, slowing it until all he could hear was the blood rushing through his veins. It was all he could do to force air into his lungs to keep himself from going unconscious.

  “You are nothing. A1 fly, easily swatted but kept alive simply for the convenience and ease your presence brings. You have a piece of Celestial authority within you, and you think that gives you the gall, the audacity, to command me. Should I will it, not even the Reapers will hide you away from death. You have earned an Ascended Technique, and so you think yourself something special. Let me include you in a piece of knowledge you seem to lack; You. Are. Not.

  "An Ascended Technique does not make you better than anyone; it simply puts you at the bottom of a very different ladder. Many have accomplished what you have, and many will after you. You. Are. Nothing.”

  Keilan grunted as each word slammed into him with physical force. It felt like his heart was being bludgeoned with a wooden hammer, leaving him in slow, mind-wracking agony.

  “Yes,” he gritted. “I know... that. I am… nothing, but even nothing can become… anything, that's how the cosmos works… no? You will... help me... speak to Merak, or I will... walk into the nearest Order’s temple. Maybe... they'll find it easier helping me get to Merak than you.”

  Gray's eyes narrowed as his grip drew back from Keilan. Though the pressure remained. “You would condemn Damien just so you speak to Merak?”

  “No," Keilan said as he fought back to get his lungs working again, "but I'm pretty sure they'd be eager to know what swirls within me, and how it landed in my possession. I'm sure I'll get to see Merak during the investigation.”

  “You do not think straight. You are moved by base mortal emotions. You have become a liability, I will kill you now.”

  Keilan stared him in the eyes. “Do it. Kill me. I hope you have a very good explanation to give to Damien when you find him… explain to him how his brother died… under your watch.”

  The pressure suffocating him disappeared in an instant, sucked into a vacuum that drank in everything, including a second of his consciousness. When his vision returned, Gray stood before him, but this time he was different. He stood a little bit over seven feet tall, still in his ingrown gray suit. There was no hair on his head, only a freshly shaved skull.

  Gray stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Unfortunately for you, your wish cannot be granted. The Harbinger is indisposed, and not even I can reach him.”

  Keilan frowned. “Why?”

  “He is with company that would be better left in the dark about my existence, and yours.” He raised a finger as Keilan opened his mouth to speak. “And before you think of doing something absurd and stupid, know that a single awareness of you, or I, can—nay—will easily trace back to Damien. They will find him, alive or dead, in whatever corner of the cosmos he's in, and they will kill him.” Keilan watched a bladed smile slit across the Minder’s cold, inhuman, face. “You do not want that, do you?”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “But I need to speak to him. It's urgent, for all our sakes.”

  Gray narrowed his eyes, and Keilan expected an incoming push back. But instead, the Minder's shoulders relaxed. “Speak. Let me hear the words from your mouth, even though I know what they are.”

  “But Merak—”

  “I am limited in what I can do, not restricted. Do not underestimate me. Speak.”

  Keilan grimaced. “We need to rescue Lord Duveyar and Lord Saulae, or at least help them in some way.”

  Gray arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Do I need to spell it out for you? What good will it do for us if the home we're in spills into turmoil because of the death of two of its great pillars? Damien is missing now—not dead, despite what anyone says—when he returns, a home soaked in war is not what I would like to welcome him back to.”

  “Is that all?”

  Keilan looked away. “There are more personal reasons, too. But the ones I've listed are ones I believe will move you, or Merak… whoever eventually goes to help. I'm not too familiar with the Cosmic Rules of War, but a section of space doused in war will invite prying eyes, attention I'm sure you do not want.”

  Gray stared at him for a few seconds, and then he nodded. “You make a good point. I will see what I can do. Do not expect any promises; a dragon of destruction is not a foe easily dispelled, not even by me. An alternative will have to be found.”

  “Thank you,” Keilan said. “This means a lot to—”

  "I am not done," The Minder interrupted. "I will find a solution, but know that, like any quick workaround, there must be a cost. There will be a cost. I am not inclined to assuage your guilt, so know that I will pick whatever solution fits my mood. The cost will be yours to bear, is that understood?"

  Keilan grimaced, pulling his gaze down to the bed. He understood all too well that there would be a cost to this, but until now he hadn't conceptualized what that would mean. Rescuing two Ascendants was no small feat, and the payment for that was sure to be astronomical even for another Ascendant, let alone a Spirit lord like him.

  He closed his eyes, about to call back his request, when the image of Sareina popped up in his mind. Her fragile look, the faint sign of tears about to leak down her face. He couldn't watch a friend go through such emotional turmoil and not help.

  He remembered his family, his parents, and his sister. The only reason he hadn't ended up sightless in a ditch somewhere after their death was because of Damien. Sareina had no one, no other family to speak of. What would become of her should her father—her only family—cease to exist?

  He took a deep breath. "I understand. I will pay whatever it takes."

  When he looked back up, Gray was already gone.

  ***

  “What is it?” Keilan said as he walked into the meeting room.

  The others, who'd been in the middle of their own little conversations turned to him, but it was Huiron, who sat behind a huge arched desk of midnight black, that spoke.

  “Someone seems cranky today.”

  Keilan eyed him, his visage uncharacteristically regal and poised behind the projection screen, like the actual noble he was. The other man let out a faint smile, his eyebrows arching in quiet amusement, like he was expecting a response.

  Keilan disappointed him. He turned to Vanis with an expectant look.

  “I called you, all of you, to discuss the Shadow Hall problem we have on our hands, as well as the sudden rise of demonic incursions in Lese—”

  “You make it sound like a plague across our systems,” Huiron said idly, his head resting back nonchalantly on his chair’s headrest. “We have what, two cases? That hardly sounds like a plague. Leave the Investigation to the Millennial Wardens and let's focus on something else.”

  Vanis raised a finger. “Let me speak first. Yes, I thought about leaving this to the Wardens to investigate, since things like this fall under their purview. This was until I dug deeper and discovered the strict requirements to summon a demon.”

  “Which is?”

  Vanis let out a faint smile, like a man with victory in sight. “Only a world ruler, any person of high planetary authority, or a World Spirit can summon a demon.”

  Tense silence overtook the room as the others paused, their newfound focus a palpable feeling in the room. Even Huiron and Sareina, who'd apparently not been fully into the discussion, leaned further in, both heirs with narrowed eyes.

  The implication was clear. If a demon could be summoned by a world ruler or a World Spirit, then that narrowed down the number of suspects on their hands. This wasn't news to cause jubilation. Two incursions, from planets on two separate worlds on opposite sides of Lese territory, implied that there was something afoot.

  “Explain,” Solis said, his voice rumbling out with authority.

  “Yes, we would like an explanation.”

  “Hold on,” Vanis said. “To make this sit clearly, a little bit of context is needed. Infernal lore is vast and much of it is beyond my knowledge, but what I got from it is that the first demon incursions happened in sixty AS, that's sixty eons after The Splintering, Cosmic Calendar. Furthermore, those incursions weren't as we have them now, minor and in limited spaces. No, the people back then had to deal with entire armies of demons, led by their strongest—”

  “Vanis,” Huiron sighed. “Get to the point.”

  “Be patient. The incursions then were so great that they swiftly led to the violent response of multiple cults, mainly the great ones, all led by the Cult of Light.”

  “Aren't they called the Church of Light?”

  “Choose your pick and stop interrupting me,” Vanis said with visible irritation, much to the amusement of Huiron.

  “This escalated to the extent that multiple cosmic forces called for the end of the demons and threatened war on them if they continued infringing on our space.”

  “Cosmic forces?” Keilan asked. “Who're they?”

  He shook his head. “I don't know their names. They weren't individually mentioned. I called in favors to anyone with knowledge and it came back null. The best I could get were heavily redacted documents. All I know, all anyone could tell me, is that these beings were so powerful that even the Celestial, Light itself allied with them.”

  “Oh,” the rest of the group said simultaneously.

  “Yes, oh. The pressure and threat of cosmic war forced the demonic hierarchy to back down, and Karma itself was involved to broker an agreement on both sides. It was called the Demonic Accord. And here we get to my point.”

  He waited, and Keilan got the feeling he was watching to see if they were still paying attention.

  “The Accord had many clauses, each meant to tighten and restrict the activities of the different infernal races when it came to Mortal races and our realm. All of it boils down to permission, and the greatest of it all was that Demons weren't allowed into a planet or near humans without invitation.”