Chapter 8 Dark Domain #3
There were seven steps leading up to the entrance, and beyond that, well…
the Goddess only knew where it led to. At that point, I didn’t care anymore, only that something built with such deliberate grandeur had to lead somewhere important.
The steps climbed toward a tall, arched stone frame that looked less like a doorway and more like the entrance to a church.
Unfamiliar symbols were carved into its border, each one sandwiched between the same rose-and-thorn design that had marked the pillars in the entrance hall.
However, it was only when I reached the bottom of the steps that I could see the black, charred double doors beyond. The details of which were lost as the door was slightly set further back from the arch, casting its details in shadow.
Well, not for long, I thought, as the demon was still chasing me, making me fuck off any hesitation I should have had as I practically threw myself into the double doors, praying they would open.
I had no idea why the room all gasped the second they did, I just cared about getting the fuck away from that thing!
I slammed the doors shut behind me and wasted what I thought were precious seconds looking for a lock of some kind.
“AHH!” I shouted when I heard the meaty fist banging from the other side, making me realize they must have locked automatically.
I didn’t exactly know what that meant, I was just glad I had managed to escape the crazed beast. I was also starting to think that Bo had been right, the idea to come here was nothing short of foolish and idiotic. Oh, and potentially suicidal, depending on what happened next.
I turned around, grateful that I was able to see, thanks to the wall lights that were glass globes hanging by chains from fancy arched brackets.
Of course, it turned out to be a staircase and the only thing that had been missing from the ground floor, no longer making me wonder how people had gotten up there.
Well, now I knew, and hopefully it meant this was where I would find the most important people. Namely one…
Wyedari Oblivion.
The one name I had, and the only one who seemed capable of helping me right now. Although I had to admit, without having the little demon stalker with me, this was going to be a much harder sell when it came to explaining myself.
“Only one way to find out,” I told myself as I made my way up the stairs and through the door at the top.
This level opened into a space far more luxurious than anything below, but there the opulence lay something deeply unsettling.
A sense that none of it had been crafted with mortal comfort in mind.
Everything here spoke of two things in equal measure, gothic excess and immeasurable wealth, but it was the kind of wealth that felt ancient, predatory, and earned through means I doubted any human could survive.
The room resembled a billionaire’s private indulgence only at first glance, because the longer I stood there, the more it felt like a domain curated for creatures who did not need to pretend to be human at all.
There were staff on duty, real staff, but none of them moved quite right. Half-naked women, exotic in a way that felt unnatural, prowled the space with slow, fluid confidence. Glossy black trays held aloft at shoulder height as if weight meant nothing to them.
Their beauty was flawless to the point of excess, too perfect, too deliberate, as though each had been designed rather than born.
Small black tasseled dresses clung to their bodies like ceremonial adornments rather than clothing, leaving skin exposed in a way that felt less seductive and more declarative. An offering rather than an invitation.
They looked like they belonged on the covers of glossy magazines, yet there was something in their eyes that made it clear they were not there for admiration, and certainly not for men like those who lusted after Slutbag Jennifer.
They looked as if they were part of the room itself, extensions of the power that ruled this place.
More like living proof that mortals were never meant to feel welcome here, only tolerated, if at all.
As for the rest, well, it was clear to see that all eyes led to one place, and one I couldn’t have seen from downstairs as it had been directly above the entrance below.
And there, my gaze was drawn to a raised platform, three shallow steps lifting it above the rest of the room, an elevation that immediately set it apart.
Every other seat had been arranged in careful arcs around it, their placement far too intentional to be coincidental.
The realization settled heavily in my chest that the space had been designed to funnel attention inward, to focus everything toward the center. Toward the throne.
It was unmistakably demonic in nature, not merely a seat but a statement of dominance, positioned so that whoever occupied it would never need to move to command the room.
From that height, the figure seated there would be visible to all, elevated just enough to remind everyone present of their place.
This wasn’t a stage meant for performance, but for judgment, power, and submission, and as I took it in, I understood with chilling certainty that nothing in this room happened without the will of the one who ruled from that throne.
The one man I knew I was here to see.
The only problem now was…
He fucking terrified me!