A/N: This is an interlude which you can skip if you want, but you shouldn't.
The Demon Realm did not actually sleep, but instead it seemed to hold its breath.
Alaric's concubine, Ivara, stood on the edge of a high balcony while her silk robes brushed softly against the black stone.
She watched a silver haze swirl over the capital city, which looked strangely peaceful from this height.
The city was filled with tall towers made of bone and crystal, and rivers of glowing light ran through the old buildings while magical protections hummed deep underground.
Alaric had built this sense of order, and that was exactly why the group known as the Shadow Covenants wanted to get rid of him.
Ivara stood with her hands folded and looked perfectly calm and elegant. To anyone watching, she just looked like a pampered woman living a life of luxury because she was close to the Demon Lord.
They would never guess that she was actually a strategist who was constantly calculating her next move.
Earlier that day, the silver flames had given her a sign. Ivara had lived around Alaric long enough to understand his moods without him saying a word.
She knew how the air got thick when he called them and how the entire realm seemed to shrink back before giving in to his power.
She knew the moment she heard the news that the Vampire Alaric caught was just a trap. The Shadow Covenants were not the type to fight out in the open because they preferred to destroy things from the inside.
They were experts at ruining alliances and poisoning the land so slowly that nobody noticed the damage until everything collapsed at once.
Now they were planning something even bigger by using an ancient formation. These types of spells were older than any demon king and were not meant to kill someone, but rather to remove them from existence entirely.
Ivara looked out at the horizon and whispered to herself, "You don't cage a storm. You redirect it or you bury it."
The Covenants knew they could not defeat the Demon Lord in a war, so they were trying to trick him into a trap that would lock his power away forever. It would be like a prison without any walls.
The thought made her feel cold, but she was already thinking about the consequences.
Alaric ruled because everyone knew he was unstoppable. If he disappeared, the entire realm would fall apart within a few decades.
The powerful families would fight each other and the borders would become dangerous, which would allow the Shadow Covenants to take over during the chaos.
Ivara took a slow breath and realized they had probably been planning this for hundreds of years.
She looked back toward the room where Alaric had been standing just a few minutes ago. His power still felt like it was echoing in the stone walls. He was blindfolded and had no idea what was happening because nobody was brave enough to tell him the truth.
Ivara was loyal, but she was not blind, and she knew that loving him meant she had to see the dangers he ignored.
She had survived in these dangerous courts long before he took power, and she knew that being close to him was a huge responsibility.
She felt like something new had entered the game, perhaps even a fragile variable.
~~~~~~~
Deep underground in a place that was not on map, the Shadow Covenants were meeting in a place that looked like the inside of a ribcage.
There were no torches, but the floor glowed with a sickly purple and gold light.
At the center of the room was an unfinished magical circle. Nine figures in dark robes and bone masks stood around it.
"Confirmation," the Speaker said in a raspy voice.
"The Silver Flame responded."
A ripple of satisfaction moved through the circle. Another voice added that the vampire was annihilated instantly and that there was no soul trace left behind.
The Speaker replied, "Good. His flame remains absolute."
"Predictable," someone else said.
"Yes," the Speaker agreed. "He hunts disturbances personally. He answers provocation with presence and he does not delegate insult."
One of the figures stepped forward and pulled out an old shard of black stone that was covered in ancient writing and dripping with blood.
"A binding anchor," the figure said. "Recovered from beneath the Third Abyss."
"One of seven," another added.
The Speaker looked at the anchor and said, "Once complete, Alaric will be removed from time, space, and flame."
He explained that there would be no corpse and no martyr, just a vacuum that would lead to chaos.
Someone asked about the concubine, Ivara, but the Speaker dismissed the concern. "She is an irregularity," he acknowledged. "But closeness is not influence. Power blinds those who believe they are seen."
The formation pulsed as another sigil appeared on the floor.
"The first convergence nears completion," a voice reported. "We will require his presence."
"He will come," the Speaker promised.
When asked how they would make sure of that, he simply replied, "By threatening what he believes is already secured."
The group went silent in approval before the Speaker gave his final command.
"Prepare the next disturbance at the outskirts of the Demon realm. Let him come to us."
The formation pulsed once more.
Far above, Alaric silver flame burned, unaware that ancient hands were already sketching the lines meant to seal it forever.