Daemon Sadi was sitting by himself in the room he had been residing in for the past eight years. He had lived in the keep with his father since the incident, not knowing where exactly to go or what to do. For months after the happenings at the altar he refused to move, refused to live without Witch. He knew if it weren't for his father, Andulvar, and Memphis he wouldn't be here.
'Maybe that would be for the better.' He thought to himself bitterly.
Saetan had stepped up when Jaenelle had passed; he had pushed his own feelings aside in order to protect his son from himself. In solitude he wept over the loss of the daughter of his soul.
A knock on the door interrupted Daemon's thoughts, and alone time.
Grumbling as he unlocked the door, he swung it open in a fluid motion, and leaned against the door frame, his eyes meeting with Andulvar's.
"Yes?" His silky voice drawled, as he raised an eyebrow at the Demon-dead Warlord Prince.
"The High Lord wishes to see you in his study."
Nodding, Daemon moved so he was standing straight. "Thank you for the message Andulvar."
Parting Daemon walked down the hall opposite Andulver, and made his way down the stairs, and towards Saetan's study. He wasn't sure that he liked the fact that everyone in the keep were trying to make their way as far as possible from where he was heading.
Lightly rapping his knuckles against the large wooden door, Daemon listened intently, hearing the predictable "Come in." from the other side. Pushing it open, his eyes focused on the woman seated in one of the chairs before Saetan's desk.
"Tersa. " He said, smiling, and walking over to where she was.
Smiling back, she stood, and welcomed his embrace.
Glancing at the man behind the desk, he noted the serious expression that was placed securely on Saetan's face.
Releasing Tersa, he maneuvered her back into her seat, before taking his own.
"Tersa here has come to inform us of something."
Smiling Tersa nodded, her eyes locking with Daemon's forcing him to remember the face she was in the twisted kingdom.
"She has come. For every action there is a reaction, whether it is seen as a punishment or gift is up to us. Born in the darkest moment of dreams, nightmares have appeared, and are made into flesh. She is not the Witch you celebrate, but Witch that has been cast aside, and unwanted. She is necessary, and needs guidance. Will you accept her?"
Daemon felt his blood run cold. A Witch that wasn't dreams, a Witch that wasn't Jaenelle? Daemon couldn't accept her, didn't want her. Rising from his place he shook his head, and strode to the door. Swinging it open harshly, he glared back at them as he heard three words from Saetan's mouth that made him want to strangle the man, "I accept her." His voice echoed in a whisper.
"Daemon?" Tersa's voice called in question.
"I will never accept her." He spat out bitterly, before slamming the study door behind him.
Leaning back in his chair, Saetan ran a hand over his face, letting out a deep sigh.
"He will come around." Tersa's voice spoke, as if she knew for certain he would.
"What if he doesn't Tersa?"
"Then we will lose another Witch, but this time to a different darkness."