The dark room smelled of smoke, expensive wine, and something far less pleasant.
Heavy black curtains concealed the windows, allowing only thin slivers of moonlight to seep through the gaps and fall across the polished floor. A fire burned lazily in the stone hearth, though the warmth did little to dispel the oppressive chill that seemed to linger within the room.
A young woman stood beside the enormous bed, her breathing uneven as she stared at the man sitting upon its edge.
His hair was red.
Not the soft copper of autumn leaves, but a deep, striking crimson that caught the firelight whenever he moved. Several loose strands fell across his forehead, contrasting sharply against the pale skin of his angular face.
He barely looked at her.
His attention remained fixed upon the glass of wine in his hand.
"Take off your clothes."
His voice was cold and that made the woman hesitate.
She had expected something different from a man of his appearance. Most men who summoned women to private rooms were eager, impatient, or vulgar.
This man was none of those things.
He sounded bored.
When she failed to move immediately, his eyes finally lifted.
They were black.
Completely, unnervingly black.
"Did you not hear me?"
The woman swallowed and slowly removed her dress and she felt his chilled gaze on her body as the dress pooled down around her feet.
The atmosphere inside the room grew increasingly uncomfortable as the man watched her without the slightest trace of emotion, he didn’t seem any but impressed or disgusted. When she eventually approached him, his expression hardened.
"Stay on the bed."
She obeyed.
She dragged her legs quietly towards the bed and climbed it as she laid on it her back coming in contact of the soft bed and she closed her eyes as it felt nice, this kind of bed were mostly used by the royals and she had never laid on this kind of comfortable bed... But then before she could enjoy it any longer his voice jolted her, "On your four." She heard his cold voice and she immediately turned and knelt on the bed and then placed her hands on the surface.
She heard him come towards her as the rustle of cloth took over the quietness of the room, and she shivered when his hand held her waist and brought her closer to the edge of the bed.
He positioned his long thick shaft in front of entrance and the he slammed in with one go as he heard the woman groan in pain and pleasure at the same time, he continued ramming into her without stopping or considering how she was taking it.
The woman moans and groans filled the dark room and she squeaked when he bunched her hair in his hands as she tried to move her body forward as it was too much for her to take.
"MHMM...AhHH!...M-MY LOURDD!" She tried to call out to him as he continued ramming into her heavily and her eyes became teary.
He continued pounding into her walls without a break and he didn’t break a sweat doing so and soon he felt the woman’s body turn slack, she had fainted! But that didn’t stop him and he continued till he released on her body his liquid shimmering on her body in the darkness of the room.
He released her hands and then sat beside her, his posture relaxed, as though nothing occurring in the room concerned him.
Then—
A knock sounded against the door.
Three sharp knocks and his eyes shifted toward it.
"Enter."
The door opened.
A broad-shouldered man stepped inside and immediately lowered his head.
"Sir."
His gaze flickered toward the bed.
The woman lying there had gone completely still.
Her face was pale, and her eyes were closed.
The red-haired man didn’t react.
He reached into the pocket of his dark trousers and withdrew a cigarette, placing it between his lips before flicking a lighter.
The tiny flame briefly illuminated the sharp contours of his face.
He inhaled.
Smoke curled slowly from his mouth.
"Take her away."
The man approached the bed.
He carefully lifted the unconscious woman into his arms.
"Yes, sir."
The red-haired man took another drag from his cigarette.
"The other woman-"
The servant stopped.
"Dispose of her."
The servant’s expression remained carefully blank.
"Yes, sir."
"And the one you’re carrying?"
His gaze moved toward the unconscious woman.
"She isn’t dead."
"No, sir."
"Give her the money when she wakes and can stand."
The servant nodded.
"Understood."
The man carrying the unconscious woman turned toward the door.
Before he could leave, the red-haired man’s voice stopped him.
"And make sure she leaves through the main’ entrance."
"Yes, sir."
The door closed.
Silence returned.
The red-haired man remained seated for several moments, cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.
There was no remorse in his expression.
No concern.
No hesitation.
Only an almost disturbing indifference.
Eventually, he rose from the bed.
His tall figure cast a long shadow across the room as he walked toward the adjoining doors.
He pushed them open and stepped outside.
The night air immediately greeted him.
Beyond the stone patio stretched the magnificent capital.
Thousands of lights glittered beneath the darkness, scattered across the enormous city like fallen stars.
Towering buildings rose above the crowded streets, their pointed rooftops silhouetted against the moonlit sky. Carriages moved along the broad avenues, their lanterns forming winding trails of golden light. Music drifted faintly from distant establishments while merchants, nobles, criminals, servants, and countless other inhabitants continued their lives beneath the watchful darkness.
The capital never slept.
It merely changed its face.
From the elevated patio, He could see almost all of it.
He leaned against the stone railing and took another slow drag from his cigarette.
Smoke escaped his lips and disappeared into the cold night air.
Below him, people laughed.
People lied.
People loved.
People killed.
And somewhere within that enormous city, thousands of lives were colliding without ever realizing how close they were to one another.
His fingers tapped slowly against the cigarette.
The capital was beautiful from above.
From a distance, it almost looked peaceful.
But he knew better.
Peace was merely violence that had learned how to dress itself elegantly.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Then he lifted his glass and took a slow sip.
"Beautiful, isn’t it?" He said to no one in particular.
A sound came from behind him but he didn’t turn.
"Leave."
The footsteps stopped.
The man immediately bowed his head.
"Yes, sir."
The door closed again.
The red haired man remained alone once again.
For a moment, the firelight from inside the room illuminated the black ring around his finger...a peculiar piece of jewelry bearing an unfamiliar crest.
His thumb brushed over it absentmindedly.
Then his gaze returned to the city.
He had spent years watching the capital from this very height.
Watching families collapse.
Watching people destroy one another for power, wealth, love, and revenge.
Yet tonight, something felt different.
He couldn’t explain why.
Perhaps it was merely instinct.
Perhaps it was the strange uneasiness that had settled over the city after sunset.
Or perhaps...
Something had already begun moving in the shadows.
Far beyond the capital, on a lonely road beneath a star-filled sky, two young women were making their way toward the same city.
And neither could have imagined that the red-haired man standing above the capital would become the center of a fate that had already begun tightening its invisible threads around them.
The man lifted his cigarette one final time.
His black eyes remained fixed upon the distant horizon.
His name was Zelos Mortum.