Chapter 22: A Talk No One Will Ever Know (1)

“You’re saying you ran to the deepest hollow of Bosaklie, like diving into a salt-dark well, cut down a remnant soul left by a dragon older than history, scooped up a lump that looked like the Star Canvas—night poured onto cloth—and told me it’s a sword?”

Satan sat in a chair like a throne cut from shadow; Abaddon sulked on her lap, while the woman lifted Abaddon’s fringe with a delicate comb, like drawing a silk curtain off half her cheek.

Lilith had already returned to the top tier of Bosaklie, and she was reporting the harvest of this journey to the city’s master like laying pearls on a lacquer tray.

The Little White Dragon had been invited into Lord Satan’s bedchamber; aside from one maid who brought tea and slipped away like a breeze, the room held only the Little White Dragon, the Demon Queen, and Abaddon on her lap, three points on a quiet chessboard.

The gray-white little Demon was as pale as frost; she blinked her one good eye like a moth’s wing, trying to ask the little dragon for help without stirring the air.

Lilith felt a prickle of helplessness, a thorn under silk; she didn’t think she could talk Satan into releasing Abaddon, so she treated the plea like passing smoke and focused on telling her tale.

Litt and Nidhogg weren’t allowed in; the Black Dragon and the little fragment were settled in the outer parlor, feasting on Bosaklie’s richest dishes, plates glinting like moons, waiting for Lilith to finish and come out.

“I thought you knew this city inside out,” the Little White Dragon arched a brow like a drawn bow; she hadn’t expected Satan to be blind to secrets she’d brought back from the dark.

“This is your city’s secret, isn’t it? Didn’t your ancestors tell you how the Golden City was built?” The little dragon’s curiosity rose like steam off hot stone.

“Of course I know. How could I not?” Satan denied with a voice like iron under silk; she pinched Abaddon’s cheek, and the gray-white little Demon squirmed in her arms like a caught sparrow, then, outmatched, curled up like a doll in her mother’s lap.

“The Golden City isn’t named because Bosaklie sits in a gold sea of sand,” Satan said, words laying down brass tiles. “The Golden Dragon’s bone and flesh were forged into every brass plate of this city; every citizen of Bosaklie knows that tale like wells know water.”

“There was a time we chose the next ruler by sending our brightest young Demons to the deepest layer to fight that ancient Golden Dragon, iron against dawn; the victor became the next lord.”

“A… martial way to pick a ruler,” the Little White Dragon paused, dry as winter reeds, then let the line fall.

“Why stop?” Lilith caught the word ‘once’ like a pebble in the current. “You don’t use that model anymore?”

“Right,” Satan said, a flint spark under calm. “One city lord was too fierce, a storm in a narrow canyon. He blew that remnant soul apart; after that, we had no remnant to use, so we changed the way.”

“Talk about a heaven-sent bruiser,” the Little White Dragon muttered, a laugh like a knife-edge; he shattered the test piece—wild stuff.

“Hold up. If that dragon’s remnant soul was already blown to ash, what did I meet down there?” The little dragon’s doubt rose like a cold mist; a Wraith winning a rematch?

King of not staying down, crowned by stubborn stone?

“I’m wondering about that too.” Satan let go of Abaddon’s hair, a net loosened; the little Demon had a chance to dart like a lizard, but Lilith’s words pulled her into thought, and she forgot to run.

“Bosaklie’s records don’t lie,” Satan said, stacking facts like bricks. “The royal library has accounts and image records; the sword that former king left still hangs in the palace like a sunbeam. Folktales are countless—a tide of stories. I can walk into any bookstore and pull at least three versions of that legend off the shelf.”

“And I believe you won’t deceive me,” she added, steady as bedrock. “Abaddon trusts you like a bird trusts its branch, and I’ve always trusted her judgment.”

“She’s literally a runaway kid,” the Little White Dragon said, baffled like a traveler at a fork; was that just a mother’s love talking?

“Because you took a runaway and taught her into a considerate girl,” Satan said, clear as bell-metal. “That earns my trust. I understand Abaddon’s untamed nature better than anyone under the sun, so I understand how high the mountain is to shape her into who she is now.”

Lilith felt a flicker of guilt, a shadow across water; Abaddon’s change had far more to do with Litt than with the Little White Dragon’s hand.

To teach a stubborn child, you let her taste motherhood like a cup of bitter tea; after little, child-faced Litt tormented her like a playful thunderstorm, Abaddon saw her past immaturity like a mirror, and turned into a gentle, thoughtful girl as naturally as night becoming dawn.

“Alright,” Lilith said, resolve settling like a seal on wax; she would keep that truth sealed unless Abaddon spoke it herself. “We don’t know why the Golden Dragon’s remnant has risen like embers reigniting, so let’s consolidate what we do know.”

“Good call,” Satan nodded, decision sharp as a blade. “But let’s move somewhere more formal.” She lifted the little Demon from her lap and set her on the floor like placing a piece on a board; the Demon Queen stood, smoothed her clothes like straightening river silk, then rang the bell.

A maid arrived swift as a swallow and stood by Lilith, waiting for the Queen’s next word like a candle waiting for a match.

“Take her to the library,” the Queen said, voice pointing like an arrow. “Top level, royal-only. Through the secret passage… oh, no.”

Satan paused, her gaze skimming Lilith’s clothes like a hand over velvet.

“Don’t use the secret way. Take her, and the two waiting at the door, through the public corridor to the Grand Library. We’ll be in the royal section.”

“You’ll love it,” Satan told the Little White Dragon, a smile like sun on brass. “No outsider fails to be awed by the Grand Library. Go see it; it’s Bosaklie’s most precious building, a mountain made of words.”

“Go see the gold of the Golden City,” she finished, like sending someone to watch dawn climb a dune.