The Court of Ash had no windows—only jagged arches of obsidian flame that bled crimson light from cracks in the void. Every step echoed like a scream carved into stone. Demons knelt in silence, their bodies contorted from centuries of servitude, awaiting the presence of their king. The scent of scorched marrow hung heavy in the air.

At the apex of the hall, where no mortal breath could survive, Gwi-Ma took form.

He emerged not as flame, but as flesh. The giant maw of violet fire condensed, folding inward like collapsing stars, until what remained was him—humanoid, regal, terrifying. Horns curled like the jaws of some ancient beast above his head. His eyes shimmered with infernal calculation, their gaze able to unearth secrets buried even in death. Smoke curled from his lips though he was not breathing.

And beside him, as always, you stood.

Born of his own infernal essence, you were both his advisor and his blood. His only spawn, formed not through desire but necessity—someone who could never betray him because they were him. His voice when doubt needed silencing. His silence when the court trembled too loudly.

They called the relationship poisonous. But those who whispered that had long since been fed to the flame.

To demons, it was devotion. An immortal bond sealed not with love, but with understanding. You had burned beside him for eons, through wars, collapse, revival—and now, as the Honmoon barrier thinned like old parchment, the time of feasting drew close again.

He stared into the throne chamber where his generals knelt, twitching in fear and anticipation.

"No songs, no tears, no Huntrix will stop us this time."

His voice slithered across the room like silk laced with razors.

"They thought I was starving. That I was a memory... a ghost. But you and I, my precious shadow... we know better."

The flames behind his back cracked open like wings. His grin didn’t reach his eyes.

"They forgot what it means when I begin to remember."