Malachi sat at the head of the long hyalopsite table, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, impatient beat against the table. Around him, the most powerful demons in the capital discussed the shifting trade routes and the restless murmurs of the border territories.
Kizari sat at the opposite end, her posture feline and predatory. She didn't only participate in the conversation, she also toyed with it, her voice like honeyed poison as she counter-offered the council's more conservative suggestions.
Suddenly, the air in the corner of the room rippled. A small, delicate shadow detached itself from the wall, coalescing into the form of a young girl with large, wide eyes and hair that seemed to smoke at the edges.
Malachi's tapping stopped. A rare, genuine smile broke across his face, softening the harsh lines of his jaw.
He ran a hand through his dark wavy hair, sighing-but not with the malice he usually reserved for his subordinates.
"Little Xian," Malachi murmured.
