Azaril woke to sunlight filtering through threadbare curtains. For a moment, disorientation seized him—the soft bed, wooden walls, and ambient sounds of human activity were all jarringly unfamiliar after a lifetime in stone chambers amid the harsh silence of the demon realm.

  He sat up, automatically reaching to check that his horns were still concealed before remembering he had dropped the disguise spell the night before. Here, in this private room, he could be himself—whatever that meant after two thousand years of exile had officially begun.

  A knock at the door made him instantly alert. He reactivated his disguise spell, wincing at the effort it required.

  "It's only me," came Silvius's voice. "I've brought food."

  Azaril opened the door cautiously. Silvius stood holding a tray den with bread, cheese, and some kind of fruit preserve. The silver-eyed man raised an eyebrow at Azaril's human appearance.

  "There's no need for that in private," Silvius said, setting the tray on a small table. "It's wasting energy you'll need for public appearances."

  Reluctantly, Azaril let the disguise fade again. "Old habits. In the demon realm, showing weakness—or difference—is dangerous."

  "Understandable." Silvius gestured to the food. "You should eat. Human fare is different from what you're accustomed to, but you'll need sustenance to maintain your strength."

  Azaril approached the offering cautiously. In demon society, food was often a status demonstration or, worse, a potential venue for poison or challenge. Silvius seemed to read his hesitation.

  "It's perfectly safe," he said with mild amusement. "Humans don't typically poison breakfast companions."

  "Typically?" Azaril asked wryly, but he took a piece of bread anyway. The fvor and texture were entirely different from the meat-heavy, mineral-rich diet of demons. Not unpleasant, just... foreign.

  As they ate, Azaril studied his mysterious benefactor more carefully. Silvius moved with unusual grace and precision for a human. His clothing was simple but well-made, giving no particur indication of status or origin. Most striking were those silver eyes—Azaril had never seen that color in any being, demon or otherwise.

  "You know what I am," Azaril said finally. "And st night, you called me 'prince.' Yet you've shared almost nothing about yourself."

  Silvius smiled, leaning back in his chair. "What would you like to know?"

  "Where are you from? Why are you in this border town? How do you know about demons? Why are you helping me?"

  "So many questions at once," Silvius chuckled. "Very well. I'm a traveler, originally from... farther north. I'm here because border towns are interesting pces—cultures blend, rules bend. As for demons, let's say I've encountered your kind before, though most were considerably less conversational and more focused on destruction."

  "That doesn't really answer anything," Azaril observed.

  "Doesn't it?" Silvius's eyes glimmered with what might have been mischief. "I've given you the broad outlines. The details would mean little to you without context."

  Something about the way Silvius deflected reminded Azaril of court nobles evading direct questions while technically providing answers. It was both frustrating and oddly comforting—some behaviors, it seemed, transcended realms.

  "And why you're helping me?" Azaril pressed.

  Silvius considered for a moment. "Let's say I find you interesting. A demon prince, alone in human nds, clearly fleeing something significant. Your mental abilities set you apart from your kind. And I..." he paused, "have a certain appreciation for those who don't quite fit their expected roles."

  "I never said I was fleeing anything."

  "You didn't need to." Silvius gestured to Azaril's travel-worn appearance. "No demon enters human territory without serious cause, especially not one traveling alone. The real question is whether you're running from something or toward something."

  Azaril frowned. This stranger had discerned too much already. "And if I don't wish to share that information?"

  "That's your prerogative." Silvius shrugged. "I'm offering guidance, not demanding confessions."

  "Guidance to where? I don't even know where I should go in these nds."

  Silvius leaned forward, suddenly more animated. "That depends on what you seek. Border towns like this are limited—merely the frayed edges of human civilization. The real power and knowledge reside in pces like Aurelium, the imperial capital. There, you'd find libraries with more information than you could absorb in decades, universities where formu magic is developed and refined, imperial courts where decisions affecting millions are made daily."

  The description stirred something in Azaril. The forbidden texts he'd studied had hinted at the knowledge repositories of the Human Empire, but hearing them described so vividly awakened a hunger he'd long suppressed.

  "How far is this Aurelium?"

  "A week's journey by the main road, less if one knows the faster paths—which I do." Silvius smiled. "I could show you, if you wished to go there."

  "Why would you travel with me? I'm a demon. Your people would consider me an enemy."

  "My people?" Silvius seemed amused by the phrase. "I don't cim particur allegiance to any group. And as for traveling together, we both gain something. You receive guidance through unfamiliar territory, and I..." he paused thoughtfully, "I enjoy intelligent conversation, which is rarer than you might expect."

  Azaril studied him, searching for signs of deception. Two centuries of surviving his brothers' machinations had made him adept at identifying hidden motives. With Silvius, however, he sensed yers of concealment but not necessarily malice.

  "What do you really want, Silvius?"

  "Perhaps I simply recognize a potentially valuable connection. Or maybe I'm bored and find you a suitable distraction." Silvius's expression grew momentarily serious. "Not all actions have hidden agendas, Prince Azaril. Sometimes interest and opportunity are sufficient motivation."

  Hearing his name and title again sent a chill through Azaril. "How do you know who I am? I never told you my name."

  Silvius waved dismissively. "Rumors reach even human nds. The demon queen's youngest son, different from his siblings, not fitting the mold of physical perfection they prize so highly." He smiled enigmatically. "Your appearance matches the descriptions, and your behavior confirms it."

  The expnation seemed reasonable, yet something about it felt incomplete. Before Azaril could press further, Silvius stood and walked to the window.

  "The morning advances. If you intend to continue traveling today, you should decide soon. The road to Aurelium is safest when started early."

  Azaril weighed his options. He knew virtually nothing about human nds beyond what he'd gleaned from forbidden texts. Traveling alone would leave him vulnerable to countless unknown dangers. Silvius, for all his mystery, had already proven helpful and seemed to possess valuable knowledge.

  "If we travel together," Azaril said carefully, "I would expect honesty between us."

  Silvius turned from the window, his silver eyes catching the light in an almost ethereal way. "I haven't lied to you."

  "Omission can be as deceptive as falsehood."

  "Indeed." Silvius smiled. "Very well, I'll make you this promise: I will not intentionally mislead you about matters that directly affect your safety or wellbeing. Beyond that..." he shrugged elegantly, "everyone keeps some aspects of themselves private. I suspect you don't intend to share your entire history with me either."

  It was a carefully bounded offer—not complete transparency, but a practical arrangement that acknowledged their mutual wariness.

  "That seems reasonable," Azaril conceded. The bargain reminded him of diplomatic negotiations he'd observed in the demon court, where parties sought workable compromises rather than absolute trust.

  "Excellent!" Silvius's demeanor brightened. "I'll make arrangements while you prepare yourself. We should be able to depart within the hour."

  As Silvius moved toward the door, Azaril called after him. "One more question. Last night in the market, how did you know to approach me? There must have been dozens of travelers there."

  Silvius paused at the threshold. "Let's just say I have a sense for those who stand between worlds." His expression softened slightly. "And you, Azaril Bloodfyre, were positively radiating dispcement. It would have been harder to miss you than to notice you."

  With that cryptic statement, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  Alone again, Azaril gathered his few possessions, contempting this unexpected alliance. Silvius clearly knew more than he was saying, but then, the same could be said of Azaril himself. For now, the arrangement offered practical benefits that outweighed the risks.

  He activated his disguise spell, carefully constructing the human appearance he would need to maintain. The magic came more easily now that he had rested, the illusion settling over him like a second skin. In the small mirror hanging on the wall, a completely ordinary human man looked back at him—no horns, no unusual skin tone, no eerily bright eyes. Just another traveler passing through.

  Yet beneath that fabricated exterior, questions continued to circle. Who exactly was Silvius? How did he know so much about demons and their royalty? And most importantly, what did he truly want from a demon prince in exile?

  Those answers, Azaril suspected, would reveal themselves only with time. For now, he had taken his first step into the human world and found, if not an ally, then at least a guide. In a strange nd where everything was unfamiliar, that would have to be enough.