CHAPTER THREE: DESIRE BECOMES POWER
1580 Words
The great hall seemed to close in on itself.
Roots groaned faintly above, leaves shuddering as though the forest itself recoiled. Arenviel felt it then;the pain. Not his own, yet pulsing through him all the same, a phantom ache tightening around his chest as Lucan writhed.
The Alpha’s knees scraped against marble. His breath came in broken pulls, eyes wild, unfocused.
Arenviel’s hand clenched around his staff.
“Selena!” he shouted, his composure finally fracturing.
Her golden gaze slid to him, calm as still water.
“Stop,” Arenviel said, voice lowering.
He stepped forward--slow, deliberate.
“Please. Forgive our ignorance.”
The word tasted bitter.
“Sit with us,” he continued, swallowing his pride whole.
“Let us speak… not fight.”
Silence followed.
Then--Selena sighed, almost bored.
She flicked her wrist.
The pressure vanished.
Lucan collapsed fully to the floor, claws scraping uselessly as he gasped for air, chest heaving. Horror clouded his eyes as he stared at the marble beneath him, unable to look up.
Selena did not spare him another glance.
She turned and walked to the table, skirts whispering softly as she took her seat
elegant, unbothered, victorious.
Ivyssa followed, smiling the entire time.
The guards hesitated, uncertain. Arenviel raised a hand. They stepped back.
The room breathed again;
barely.
Ivyssa folded her hands atop the table, head tilting with amused curiosity.
“So…” she said lightly, her grin lingering just a moment too long.
“Shall we?”
Somewhere deep within the palace, something ancient stirred.
And Hell settled comfortably among them.
Selena crossed one leg over the other, resting her elbow lightly on the arm of the chair as though she belonged there. Ivyssa leaned back beside her, relaxed, eyes drifting across the faces of kings and commanders like trophies on display.
Arenviel straightened, regaining his composure inch by inch.
“You have made your power known,” he said carefully.
“Now tell us why you are here.”
Selena tilted her head, amused.
“You called a meeting about desire.”
Ivyssa smiled.
“We answered.”
Morganna shifted uneasily, the weight of Hell pressing on her chest.
“It has come to our knowledge that this undefined corruption originates from Hell,” she said, looking at draven who sat unbothered.
Selena’s gaze slid toward her...slow, assessing, invasive. It felt as though she were searching for something beneath Morganna’s skin. Morganna locked eyes with her for only a heartbeat before looking away, visibly unsettled.
“I wouldn’t say we started it,” Selene replied calmly.
Arenviel’s brows knit.
“Then what are you saying? Be clear.”
Selena leaned forward slightly.
“Someone cracked open the jar of desire and let the scent out,” she said.
“Now everyone wants a piece.”
Her golden eyes settled on Orion.
“Do you know what happens to an addict?”
Orion swallowed.
“Th-they die?” he answered uncertainly.
Selena smiled faintly.
“No.”
Her voice softened.
dangerously so.
“They want more. And more. And more… until they drift away from life itself.”
She straightened.
“And I promise you.
they still want more even when they’re dead and burning in Hell. That is why there is so much sin to pass around.”
Her gaze shifted, landing squarely on Morganna.
“The desire to rule,” Selene continued, “has always been one of the most powerful sins.”
Silence followed.
Then Matilda finally spoke, her voice tight after too long of holding it in.
“Are you going to tell us who caused this… and how we can stop it?”
She looked around the table.
“Thousands...no, millions...of races will die if we do nothing.”
Selena laughed softly.
“And how would I know?” she asked.
“Desire can be born from countless emotions.”
She began ticking them off.
“Envy. Greed. Anger. Fatigue.”
Her eyes gleamed.
“Name it.”
She leaned back.
“If you want to know who started it, you’ll have to ask the Sin it was born from.”
She shrugged.
“Maybe they’ll know. Maybe they won’t.”
A pause.
“As for helping you stop it…” Selene hummed thoughtfully.
“Let’s just say that is a very stupid request to ask of a devil born of Lust.”
Her eyes burned into Matilda.
“What do you take me for?”
“A hero?”
Matilda dropped her gaze instantly.
Something felt deeply wrong to Arenviel. A devil offering information.. unprompted...was never charity. Hell did not wake often, but when it did, chaos followed every time. Always calculated. Always cruel.
He exhaled slowly.
“Selena,” he said, “I know you are not saying this for free.”
His voice hardened.
“So what is it that you desire… Lust?”
The word fell like a blade.
>When a Sin was addressed by their origin, it was no longer diplomacy,it was declaration. A forbidden meeting. No friendship. No future alliance.
Selena scoffed.
“I’m glad you caught on, Aren.”
She said his name casually, deliberately ignoring his titles and markings.
“I want two dragon hearts.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
“And not just any dragon,” she added smoothly.
“The Silver Dragon of Life.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“I know you possess one.”
Arenviel stiffened.
“I do not.”
He frowned.
“There can only be five dragon hearts. The Fae earned two....the dragons settled there willingly while alive.”
He hesitated.
“The remaining three are still unaccounted for.”
Selena waved a hand dismissively.
“Please, Aren. Don’t lecture me on things I already know.”
She rose from her seat.
“I will return for the heart. Until then...keep it safe for me.”
She turned to leave. Ivyssa followed.
But Selena stopped.
She stood directly in front of Morganna.
“Do you remember the tale of the man who asked Hell for fortune,” Selena asked softly,
“but went to church to thank God for his riches?”
Her smile sharpened.
“We all know how that story ended.”
She leaned in just enough.
“Desire feeds on the heart. And if you don’t know when enough is enough…”
“…it will eat everything.”
Her eyes glowed.
“But then again,” Selena whispered, “a desire born of Lust is never enough.”
She straightened.
“That’s why I’m the best.”
A pause.
“Even Lucifer knows that.”
She walked out,elegant, unhurried.
Ivyssa lingered.
She crouched beside Matilda, emerald-gold eyes shimmering.
“I smell envy,” she murmured, lips close to Matilda’s ear.
Matilda stiffened.
“You must be terribly insecure about your face,” Ivyssa continued calmly.
“I could help you.”
Her voice poured in like a river of need.
“What is power without beauty?”
“You are respected by all...but is that a face you truly love?”
Matilda hated how right she was. She turned away, shame burning her cheeks.
Ivyssa smiled.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she whispered, “you know where to find me.”
“Pretty girl.”
She stood and left.
Matilda remained seated, drowning in thought.
“…Pretty girl,” she murmured.
And somewhere deep within her, something answered.
“King Arenviel.”
Kealinth’s voice cut through the hall, betrayal lacing every syllable.
Arenviel turned sharply.
“Ignore whatever Lust was implying,” Arenviel said firmly.
“I do not possess a single dragon heart.”
Kealinth’s fists clenched.
“How am I meant to trust your words?” he demanded.
“You know I have searched for the lost hearts for decades...to restore the honor and respect of my people.”
His voice rose, raw with frustration.
“You promised me I would be the first of my kind to find them. And I trusted you.”
Arenviel’s breath hitched.
“I…”
He steadied himself.
“I truly do not possess one. There must be a mistake.”
He stepped closer, voice earnest.
“I would never betray you this way, Kealinth. My people owe yours a great debt..for standing beside us through countless wars.”
His gaze held firm.
“I would not dishonor that bond.”
He paused.
“Let us not allow the words of Lust to fracture our friendship.”
The tension lingered,then slowly eased.
Kealinth exhaled, shoulders lowering.
“I will hold to your word,” he said quietly.
“For now.”
Arenviel nodded once.
“Lucan?” he called.
The Lycan Alpha had remained silent throughout, seated with his head lowered.
Lucan rose stiffly.
“I will take my leave, if that is all,” he said, voice restrained.
“There are matters that require my attention.”
“We will convene again,” Arenviel replied.
“Be prepared.”
Lucan gave a sharp nod.
“Very well.”
A faint, humorless smile tugged at his lips.
“I only hope our next meeting does not involve drafting a plan to wage war against Hell.”
He limped toward the exit, favoring his left foot. Outside the hall, two Lycans hurried to his side, supporting him as he walked away.
Arenviel watched him go.
“I hope so too,” he murmured.
The hall fell quiet once more.
But the silence felt fragile
like something waiting to shatter.
- Writer
