"As long as I don't use my demonic powers, he'll never know." Syryn waved away Alka's concerns. The boy was more interested in having front row seats to the development of Rowan's life. Especially the part where, to the woes of all the young women of the kingdom, he would court his future wife, Lillith.

"Aren't you being too nonchalant about this?" Alka pressed his lips together and looked down at Syryn with his upturned eyes. This was a great feat considering how they were both almost the same height.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there. If worse comes to worst, I'll just kill everyone who finds out." Syryn carelessly replied.

"Magnus and I can't stop you but you'll have to be wary of the anti mages."

Syryn couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Alka for real? Apparently not, considering the small upward tug of Alka's lips.

"Should we burn this place down?" Magnus asked while craning his neck and looking around.

"Let's recover our strengths first." Syryn fell back onto the rocky ground and held Lucien close to his chest.

With a nod, Alka shouldered his satchel and informed his friends. "Then I'll get some food going inside the forest. This place makes my skin crawl."

"You're a gem Al," Magnus muttered and fell back to rest on the ground.

_______

It was past twilight and the boys had recovered some of their mana. Syryn sat with Lucien and watched Magnus set the bodies alight. Alka had recited a blessing for the dead before sending them off to the sky in thick plumes of smoke.

While the mounds burned, Magnus sat next to Syryn and decided to badger him with questions.

"So why the anthem of Sigil?"

Syryn groaned and buried his face in his hands. He had hoped Magnus wouldn't remember. "I can't help it. It's the only song that anchors me to my humanity when I'm being driven insane by demonic desires."

"What kind of desires?" Magnus was very interested in Syryn's biology. He couldn't get the image of Syryn's demon form out of his mind. Call him bewitched, but Syryn had been breathtaking. When he had first met Syryn, the boy had appeared ordinary. Somehow, between then and now, it was like Syryn had shed an outer skin, one that hid his real face.

Magnus guessed at the use of a high-level Illusion spell that Syryn used to obfuscate his charming self. There had been no telltale signs of illusion which would have been the case with a low-level spell.

He studied the demon child's features in the light of the bonfire. Syryn's dark hair fell like a curtain of night's veil. His indigo eyes were a very dark shade that it oftentimes appeared black. And his face? Magnus would have made a comparison between Syryn and Lillith's beauty if there wasn't already a Lucien shining brighter than the princess herself.

The two dazzling brothers would cause all manners of problems for him, Magnus knew that deep in his bones. Even Alka wasn't immune to the dangerous pull that Syryn exerted. He was so beautiful that it felt blasphemous to look straight at him. Magnus idly wondered if all half-demons were so captivating.

What he didn't know was that even among the ranks of superior half breeds, Syryn and Lucien were top beauties. It was only when he became one of Traxdart's favourites that Syryn had found escape from suitors. After that, there had been no room for either demons or humans to fawn over Syryn. He was above them, an existence that could not be sullied.

That changed when Rowan had found and imprisoned him. Despite his captor's attempts at introducing Syryn to people, he had shunned company. Only Rowan was allowed to sit by the fire without getting burnt.

"What are you staring at me for?" Syryn frowned at Magnus.

"You forgot to cast illusion on yourself," Magnus smirked up at him. With scarce reasons for Syryn to conceal his face after gaining power as a demon Lord, illusions were unnecessary. Since arriving into this new life, Syryn had worn a convincing illusion and had completely forgotten about it. Now that he had run out of mana, the spell had melted away slowly but surely. He hadn't realised to cast it back on himself since he had other worries to gnaw on.

"There's no need to set one now. Let me look at you for a while longer while you tell me about demonic desires." Magnus rested his chin on his palm and waited for him to speak.

"I'll tell you about the desire to eat nosy shapeshifters that have no business asking such questions," Syryn responded with cold detachment. "Don't get too friendly Magnus. As nice I am, I'm still a demon."

"Ok how about this then." Magnus offered, "I'll answer your questions, you answer mine."

Syryn raised his chin and turned away from Magnus' observant eyes. His inability to get a read on the fire mage was a source of consternation for Syryn. "Ok, I'll go first then. Who is your father?" Syryn had a feeling Magnus was the son of a certain wandering monk who was also Syryn's public enemy number two.

"Strange that you would ask me that question." Magnus curiously replied. "My father died at war when I was but 3 years old. I know nothing about him." Then was Syryn wrong? The black fire that Magnus possessed was one of a kind. There was no way that it wasn't the Night Phoenix flame.

"My turn. What else can you materialise apart from wings?" Magnus prodded with an unhealthy amount of interest in his eyes. He couldn't help it. Demons were neither friendly nor were they forthcoming. This was his chance to study a willing one.

"Horns, Wings, claws, a third eye, and maybe even a tail if I try hard enough." Syryn supplied. "I've never seen black flames before. Which side of your family does it come from?"

Magnus chuckled at that, "You already know that don't you? You're confirming some suspicion you have. What is it?"

"Answer my question first Magnus."

Alka was meditating next to a pyre. Syryn could see tiny shoots of grass growing at Alka's feet, some even growing into thin tendrils that climbed their meditating caster. It was fascinating to watch.

"It comes from my father's side, or so I've heard. Strangely, nobody on my paternal side possesses the flame." So Magnus had no idea how monstrous his flame would become. What he had displayed so far was only the beginning. "What do you know about black flames or my father for that matter?"

Syryn wondered just how much he should reveal. If possible, he didn't want Magnus to gain silver flames. "I heard in passing about a man whose flames could burn through any material including souls."

Syryn remembered just how horrifying it was. A fire that could exorcise a ghost out of existence meant that demons were just waste paper next to such a flame.

At Syryn's answer, Magnus slipped into his thoughts, "You think it could be related to my father?"

"Maybe, I don't know. I'm tired, Magnus." Lucien was falling asleep with his head on Syryn's lap. It was time to set a hammock for the child.

The fire mage understood the hint and nodded. "Thank you for answering my questions Syryn. Wake me up if you hear anything in the middle of the night."

"Aren't you afraid of falling asleep next to a haunted place?" Syryn challenged the taller mage who was stretching his body with the liquid grace of a feline. It was a characteristic that Alka shared, one that had Syryn feeling all kinds of envy.

"It's the ghost that should be afraid. I have a very strong demon here to protect me." And with a friendly wink, Magnus was off.

That night, Syryn dreamt about Rowan. The longing to meet his friend had manifested as a nostalgic dream about their past. They were sitting side by side inside the warm library of Syryn's tower. He looked down at himself and found he was still a child.

In the dim firelight, Rowan studied Syryn with an amused smile on his handsome face.

"Ryn, are you happy?"

Rowan's smile. Syryn had missed it so much.

No, he wasn't happy. He wanted to go back to that day when Rowan had caught him. He wanted 18 more years with Rowan.

"I've missed you, Ro."

In their time together, Syryn and Rowan had very rarely shared hugs. They never touched physically unless it was called for. But this was a dream, and so without reservations, the demon Lord threw himself into the Hero's arms.

Rowan's warm embrace enveloped him tight and it reminded Syryn of what home felt like. He inhaled to find that the scent of Rowan evoked the same familiarity. It was a clean, masculine scent of amber and cypress wood. Syryn had never felt safer.

"You're doing great Ryn, I'm so proud of you." Rowan's deep voice rumbled through his chest and Syryn felt it. He wanted to never leave this dream.

Rowan then slowly let a hand brush through Syryn's dark hair. "Never forget, you were born of a demon but you had no choice in it. What matters is which side of yourself that you choose to act on. That is who you are Syryn Nigh'hart."

Syryn woke up to the sound of birds and the rustle of forest leaves. He missed Rowan with fierce desperation.