Lord Vishious dissolved into the shadows like a serpent slipping beneath black water, taking Malice's petrified form with him. The darkness swallowed Slayer and Beast a heartbeat later, the world folding inward as the Forest of Deathly Hallows vanished around them.
The shadows spat them back out into the cold stone corridor of Slayer's Palace.
Slayer landed on one knee, his hands feeling the stone floor. The torches lining the walls flickered violently, reacting to the sudden surge of dark energy. Beast materialized a few feet away, shaking off the remnants of shadow like dust.
But Vishious and Malice were nowhere.
Slayer's head snapped up, eyes narrowing glowing like Hell's fire.. "Where the hell are they," he said through clenched teeth, his voice low and venomous. "Why would Vishious separate from us."His brows pulled together, a storm gathering behind them. "I'm not in the mood for this bullshit."
Beast growled, folding his massive arms across his chest. "It seems to be something Vishious finds amusing," he growled, his voice echoing through the corridor. "Getting on your nerves."
Slayer's jaw flexed. He growled through clenched teeth, the sound sharp and animalistic. "He does it on purpose," he muttered. "Always has."
And it was true — Vishious delighted in pushing Slayer's buttons, in dancing just out of reach, in reminding him who held the upper hand in the shadows. Older brother or not, Vishious had a talent for calculated irritation.
A pulse of energy rippled through the palace walls — faint, but unmistakable. Slayer and Beast both felt it at the same time.
Vishious was in Malice's bedroom. On the complete opposite side of the palace.
Slayer rose from his kneeling position in one fluid, predatory motion. He stalked toward Beast, boots striking the stone with purpose.
"He took Malice there," Slayer said, voice dropping into something darker. "Of all places."
Beast tilted his head. "You think he's planning something."
"I know he is." Slayer's eyes glowed faintly, a dangerous ember. "Vishious doesn't move without intention."
The corridor around them seemed to stretch, the palace itself reacting to the tension between the brothers. Shadows curled along the walls, whispering secrets neither of them cared to hear.
Slayer stepped beside Beast, gaze fixed on the distant wing where Malice's room lay hidden behind layers of enchantments and stone.
"Come on," he said, voice a low command. "If Vishious thinks he's going to keep playing games with me tonight, he's about to be disappointed."
Beast snarled sharp and feral. "Lead the way."
Together, they started down the long corridor — unaware of what Vishious was doing behind that door, or how Malice's petrified state was.
The closer Slayer and Beast moved towards Malice's room, the heavier the air became. The torches dimmed as if bowing to something far more ancient than fire. Shadows clung to the walls like living things, recoiling from Slayer's presence yet stretching toward Beast as though recognizing a kindred darkness.
Neither spoke.
They didn't need to.
The tension was a living creature between them — coiled, waiting, aware.
Slayer's jaw tightened with every step. "He separated us on purpose," he finally muttered, voice low, controlled, but simmering. "He didn't want us stopping him from what he decided to do with Malice."
Beast's eyes narrowed. "You think he's trying to undo the petrification? Even at the risk of melting Malice's brain in the process?"
"I think," Slayer said, "that Vishious never does anything without a reason. And what other than that reason is there?… he didn't want us to have time to think his option he gave to us over, because he wasn't really giving us an option but telling us what he was gonna do."
A pulse of dark energy rolled through the corridor — slow, deliberate, like a heartbeat made of shadow. The stone beneath their feet vibrated faintly. Beast's ears twitched. Slayer's eyes sharpened.
Malice's bedroom door stood at the end of the hall, tall and carved with ancient carvings that glowed faintly as they approached. The air around it shimmered with a heat that wasn't heat — a pressure, a presence.
Slayer lifted a hand to stop Beast. "He's doing something," he whispered, though his voice still carried weight. "Something he better hopes works."
Beast nodded in agreement to what Slayer just said. He didn't like what Vishious was taking upon himself to gamble with.
Slayer pushed the door open.
The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of enchanted lanterns — and by the swirling black fire radiating from Vishious's hand.
Lord Vishious stood beside Malice's petrified form, one hand resting lightly on Malice's head. His expression was unreadable, calm in a way that made the air feel colder.
From his palm, black fire flowed — not wild, not chaotic, but controlled, precise, almost ritualistic. The flames curled around Malice's body, climbing slowly, engulfing him in a cocoon of shadowed heat that didn't burn the room, didn't scorch the floor, didn't behave like fire at all.
It was power.
Slayer froze in the doorway, breath catching in his chest. Beast's eyes widened, the fur along his arms bristling.
Vishious didn't turn. He didn't need to. His voice drifted toward them, smooth and quiet, as if he had been wondering what took them so long.
"You two took your time."
Slayer stepped forward, fists clenched. "What are you doing to him."
Vishious finally looked over his shoulder, eyes glowing with a cold, unnatural light. "What I should have done the moment he turned to be like this," he said. "What neither of you are capable of."
The black fire surged higher, wrapping Malice completely now, yet the flames made no sound. No crackle. No roar. Just a deep, resonant hum that vibrated through the bones of the room.
Slayer's voice dropped into a dangerous growl. "You separated us so we wouldn't stop you."
"No," Vishious replied, turning back to Malice. "I separated you because you would have slowed me down."
The flames pulsed.
Malice's form trembled — the first movement since the petrification.
Beast took a step forward, instinctively protective. "Vishious… Do you know how much Malice will be able to handle of your power you're using on him?."
Vishous's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.
"Not at all" he said softly. "I'm merely guessing"
The black fire flared, swallowing Malice entirely.
And the room shook.The black fire pulsed one final time — a deep, resonant thrum that shook the lanterns on the walls. Then, as if obeying an unspoken command, the flames began to recede, curling back into Vishious's palm like smoke being inhaled by the night itself.
Malice's form began to relax.
Slayer's breath caught.
Beast leaned forward, muscles tensed.
Then Malice's entire body shuddered — softening, breath forcing its way back into lungs that had been hardly allowing to breath since the petrification. His knees buckled. His upper body pitched forward.
Slayer and Beast moved at the same time.
Malice's arms shot out instinctively, catching himself before he hit the floor, but barely. His palms trembled against the cold stone, his breath ragged, uneven, desperate. as if his body was relearning how to exist.
Slayer dropped to one knee beside him, Beast crouched on the other side.
Malice tried to speak, but only a hoarse gasp escaped him.
"Easy," Beast snarled, "You're gonna need a minute to get a grip on your body after an ordeal like that .. Just breathe."
Slayer's tone was darker, rougher, but full of something he rarely let anyone hear. "Let us help you onto the bed," he said, the anger in his voice aimed at everything except Malice.
Malice didn't answer — he couldn't. His arms trembled violently, threatening to give out.
Slayer didn't wait.
He slid one arm under Malice's shoulder. Beast mirrored him on the other side. Together, they lifted him with surprising care, guiding him upright. Malice's legs barely held his weight, his body sagging between them as they half-carried, half-supported him toward the bed.
Every step was a struggle for him — breath hitching, muscles spasming, He felt cold. But he was alive. He was himself again.
They eased him down onto the edge of the bed, Malice leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, still panting, still shaking, but no longer petrified and unable to move.
Slayer stayed close. Beast remained on the other side, watching him with a protective intensity.
Behind them, Vishious finally moved.
He hadn't said a single word during the entire recovery. He hadn't offered help. He hadn't explained himself. He simply stood there, arms relaxed at his sides, expression unreadable as he observed the three of them.
His eyes lingered on Malice — not with concern, not with regret, but with a quiet calculation that made the air feel colder.
Then, without a sound, he turned toward the door.
His cloak brushed the floor as he walked, shadows bending around him as if clearing a path. He didn't look back. He didn't acknowledge Slayer's glare or Beast's low growl.
He simply left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And the room felt different — lighter in some ways, heavier in others — as Slayer and Beast remained at Malice's side, steadying him while he fought to catch his breath.
Malice's chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths as he sat hunched on the edge of the bed. His wings hung low behind him, trembling from exhaustion, the leathery membranes twitching as sensation slowly returned to them. His claws dug into the mattress, not out of aggression, but because his body still didn't trust itself to stay upright.
Malice dragged in another breath, deeper this time, but it shook violently on the way out.
Something was wrong.Not physically — though every muscle in his hybrid body screamed with weakness — but deeper. Beneath the skin. Beneath the blood. Beneath the instincts of both Night Creature and Kamaira.
Something had changed.
He pressed a clawed hand to his sternum, right over the place where Vishous's blackfire had entered him. The warmth there hadn't faded. It pulsed — slow, steady, deliberate — like a second heartbeat.
Slayer noticed immediately. "What is it," he asked harsher then he meant to. His voice low, dark, but not directed at Malice.
Malice didn't answer at first. His wings twitched again, folding tighter around him as if trying to shield him from something only he could feel.
Beast leaned in, his growl softer than his size suggested. "Malice… talk to us."
Malice swallowed hard. "When the blackfire went through me…" His voice cracked, rough from disuse and strain. "I felt something."
Slayer's eyes narrowed. "Pain?"
"No." Malice shook his head slowly. "Not pain."
He struggled for the right word — something that could capture the impossible sensation that had washed through him when Vishious's hand touched his head, when the blackfire surged through every vein, every nerve, every instinct.Malice closed his eyes.
"Home."
The room went still.
Slayer stiffened, confusion and anger flickering across his face. Beast's expression darkened, not with hostility toward Malice, but with a protective instinct rising like a tide.
Malice didn't look at either of them. He couldn't. His gaze drifted toward the door Vishious had walked through moments ago, as if the shadows still carried his presence.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know how.
But the truth settled in his chest like a brand:
Vishious's blackfire hadn't just revived him.It had awakened a bond.A connection.A belonging he had never felt before — and didn't know how to escape.
Malice lifted his head, eyes unfocused at first… then sharpening with a troubled clarity.
"There's something else," he said quietly, voice rough but steadying. "Something that happened when Vishious used his power on me."
Slayer leaned in, tension coiling through his shoulders. Beast's ears angled forward, alert.
Malice swallowed, claws flexing against the bedsheets. "When the blackfire went through me… I didn't just feel him. I didn't just feel that connection." His wings folded tighter around him, as if bracing. "I saw something."
Slayer's eyes narrowed. "Saw what."
Malice hesitated — not out of fear, but uncertainty. The memories he'd glimpsed weren't his. They didn't belong to the Night Creature instincts in his blood or the Kamaira's strength in his bones. They were foreign. Sharp. Heavy with meaning he didn't yet understand.
"Some of his memories," Malice said finally. "Recent ones."The room went still.
Beast's jaw dropped slightly, shock flickering across his usually stoic features. Slayer's expression hardened, but not with anger — with interest. Dangerous interest."You're telling me," Slayer said slowly, "that you saw inside Vishious's mind."
"I don't know if it was his mind," Malice admitted. "But I saw what he saw. Felt what he felt. Just for a moment."Beast leaned closer, voice low. "What did you see?"
Malice shook his head. "It was too fast. Too much. Shadows… faces… a place I didn't recognize. And something else." His breath hitched. "Something he's planning."Slayer's eyes sharpened like drawn blades. "Planning what?"
"I don't know," Malice whispered. "But whatever it is… it's big. And it's soon."Beast exchanged a look with Slayer — a rare moment of silent agreement between them.
For the first time in a long time, they had something Vishious hadn't meant to give them.
A weakness.A clue.A crack in the armor of the one Demon who never slipped.
Slayer's voice dropped into a low, dangerous rumble. "If you saw his memories… then we possibly finally have a way to understand what he's up to."Beast nodded, eyes gleaming. "And maybe what he wants."