Page 62 of Sundered By Fate

There was a rush of wind as Zaxos rose from his throne, shadowy wings unfurling like an inkblot in the air. The gathered demon lords and courtiers around them fell back with a murmured hiss, and Aric caught sight of Vizra's sly smile among them before her honey-skinned face disappeared into shadow.

Aric's fingers twitched where they lay shackled at Malekith's sides.

Memories pressed against him like shards of glass—faint echoes of faces and voices calling out to him: Malekith orchestrating an attack on Astaria; sabotage; betrayal; letting one human—no, two humans—escape; soldiers slaughtered by their own magic; innocent lives destroyed in a single fiery strike?—

Or was it Aric who had betrayed them? Who had failed them?

"Did you think I would not find out? That I would not see your treacherous hand in these events?" Zaxos continued, moving closer with each word. "You who I have trusted above all others."

Zaxos's voice rang out, echoing through the chamber like the tolling of a bell. "You stand accused of treason against your own kind. Of conspiring with our enemy, the filthy humans, and sabotaging our war efforts. Do you deny these charges?"

Aric's—or Malekith's—sight came into focus on the throne room's polished marble floor, a hazy reflection in the slick black surface. Malekith's face was contorted in a mask of defiance and fear.

"I deny it all," Malekith said, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling around him.

Zaxos's golden eyes narrowed, a predator scenting blood. "Lies. We have evidence—witnesses who saw you consorting with your filthy human pet, plotting to betray us." Beside Zaxos, Sylthris smiled in triumph. The Sovereign spoke again. "You have undermined our plans at every turn, putting our victory at risk."

Aric's heart lurched in his chest as he watched Zaxos advance on Malekith, shadows lengthening behind him like an encroaching storm. He ached to touch Malekith's thoughts, to reassure him somehow. But there was nothing—only a void where their connection should have been.

"Sovereign, please," Malekith pleaded, his composure cracking. "You must believe me, it was all in service to a greater plan?—"

But his words were cut short as one of the guards slammed the butt of a spear into his jaw, sending him sprawling. Pain flared across Aric's own face, an echo of Malekith's agony.

"Hold your tongue, traitor," the guard snarled. "You will answer for your crimes."

Aric struggled against his invisible bonds, helpless within the vision but still filled with fury and fear for Malekith. He wanted to scream at them to stop, to let him go—but his voice was drowned out by Zaxos's laughter ringing in his ears.

The vision blurred and shifted again, dragging him down a dark corridor. He felt Malekith's body moving with him, head throbbing with every step, bruises blooming over pale skin.

The walls pulsed with a sickly green light, and distant screams echoed from unseen chambers. The scent of blood and burnt flesh hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid tang of fear.

Aric's stomach churned as he was dragged into a torture chamber, devices of iron and bone lining the walls. Racks and chains, blades and brands—their purposes too horrific to imagine.

As the guards threw Malekith to the floor, Zaxos entered the chamber, Sylthris at his side. She looked more feral now, a gleam of triumph in her midnight-blue eyes.

"Leave us," Zaxos commanded, his voice smooth as oil. The guards bowed and withdrew, leaving Malekith shackled to the floor.

"Confess your plans, Malekith," Zaxos said, crouching down before him. "Tell me everything you intended."

But Malekith only spat blood at Zaxos's feet. "You know nothing of my plans," he said with a ragged laugh. "And you never will."

As the vision shifted again, Aric felt his stomach churn with dread as he watched through Malekith's eyes. The chamber faded away, replaced by a dungeon deep within the demon realm. Malekith was strapped to a stone table, his body taut with pain and fear.

Zaxos stood over him, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You will tell me what I want to know, Malekith," he said. "One way or another."

With a wave of his hand, arcane energy crackled through the air, slamming into Malekith's body. He screamed in agony as the magic tore through him, his muscles convulsing uncontrollably. Aric felt the pain echo through his own body, a distant echo of Malekith's torment.

The vision shifted again, and Aric watched as Malekith was suspended over a pit of writhing shadows. The darkness beneath him churned and roiled, as if hungry for his soul. Zaxos stood nearby, a look of cold satisfaction on his face.

"Confess, Malekith," he snarled. "Tell me what I need to know, and I will spare you this fate."

But Malekith only glared at him, his jaw set in defiance. "Never," he spat.

Zaxos's smile turned cruel, and he waved his hand again. The shadows surged upward, engulfing Malekith in their inky embrace. He screamed as they tore at his flesh, their icy claws ripping him apart. The pain seared into Aric as well, each tear and rip a knife to his own soul.

The vision shifted once more, and Aric watched in horror as Malekith was consumed by hellfire. The flames licked at his skin, agonizing, searing.

Through it all, Zaxos continued to demand answers, but Malekith refused to break. Aric felt sick, wanting desperately to look away but unable to do so. The images seared themselves into his mind, a reminder of the cruelty and ruthlessness of the demon realm.

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