Chapter 146: The Invitation That Survived Velistrae
Chapter 146: The Invitation That Survived Velistrae
Velistrae was never quiet.
Even when nothing was happening, something was always happening. Especially a party.
The air itself breathed—slow, heavy, perfumed with desire and indulgence so thick it clung to the lungs. Purple mist rolled lazily through the streets, curling around spires, balconies, and silk-draped archways. Lanterns glowed softly through it, their light refracted until everything looked dreamlike and dangerous all at once.
And cutting through that haze—very awkwardly—was a gargoyle.
Its stone wings beat hard and heavy, sending ripples through the Velaryx Miasma as it flew with rigid determination. A rather ridiculous-looking nose mask was strapped tightly over its face, the straps digging into stone cheeks.
The gargoyle hated this territory.
Its stone eyes squinted as another wave of scented fog washed over it. Even with the mask, it could still perceive it.
The gargoyle slowed midair, wings faltering.
Its stone body drifted dangerously close to a balcony draped in silk and laughter. Somewhere below, music played—slow, seductive, utterly distracting.
The gargoyle shook its head violently.
"No," it said to itself. That wasn’t the direction it was supposed to go.
The gargoyle flapped harder, flying forward blindly until, at last, the Duchess’ palace rose from the mist like a decadent monument to temptation. Dark purple stone and pale marble intertwined, carved with figures frozen in pleasure and longing. Tall spires reached into the violet sky, veiled in drifting miasma.
The gargoyle landed heavily before the grand doors and knocked—three solid, respectful knocks that echoed through the palace halls.
The door opened almost immediately.
A woman stood there.
She was a succubus, clearly—but not dressed in the flowing silks common in Velistrae. Instead, she wore a tailored black suit, sharp and elegant, fitted perfectly to her frame. Her brown hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and ash-colored wings rested calmly at her back, folded with practiced discipline.
Her eyes flicked down to the gargoyle, assessing.
"Yes?" she asked coolly. "What do you want?"
The gargoyle frowned.
Its stone brow creased deeply as it stared at her.
"...I," it said slowly.
It opened its mouth again.
Then closed it.
Its eyes widened.
"...I don’t know."
The succubus blinked, unsurprised.
There was a pause—long enough for the mist to curl between them.
"...You don’t know," she repeated flatly.
The gargoyle shook its head, visibly distressed. "I knew. I definitely knew. But I do not know anymore."
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Why gargoyles were still messengers when they always seemed to forget what errand they’d been sent on always seemed to baffle her.
The gargoyle suddenly gasped. "I should go."
Before she could stop it, the gargoyle turned abruptly and launched itself back into the air, wings beating furiously as it vanished into the mist.
The succubus stared after it, unimpressed.
"...Of course," she said dryly.
She was just about to close the door when—
THUD.
The gargoyle slammed back down in front of her, landing with a clumsy skid.
"WAIT," it shouted.
She recoiled half a step. "What now?"
The gargoyle leaned closer, stone eyes wide. "Where am I?"
She stared at it.
"...Velistrae."
The gargoyle froze.
"Oh."
It looked down, and only then did she notice the envelope clutched tightly in its stone fingers—black parchment edged in gold, sealed with the royal crest of the Demon King.
Her eyes narrowed.
"...Is that from the palace?"
The gargoyle followed her gaze and gasped as she took it.
"My letter!"
"You forgot you were holding it," she said flatly.
"That’s rude," the gargoyle accused.
"You forgot why you were here, forgot where you were, and nearly flew into a pleasure den," she replied. "This is an intervention."
The gargoyle puffed up indignantly. "You didn’t have to grab it like that."
"I absolutely did."
The gargoyle crossed its arms sulkily.
"...Will I be stuck here forever?"
The succubus stared at the demon—another thing she didn’t get about gargoyles: the abrupt change of topic. They were a confusing species.
She sighed. "No. I’ll tell you how to get back to the castle."
The gargoyle’s stone eyes brightened instantly.
"Really?"
"Yes," she said. "Listen carefully."
She gave clear, precise directions—routes through the sky that avoided the densest miasma pockets, landmarks carved into spires, and the exact moment to turn upward and escape the territory’s pull.
The gargoyle nodded vigorously, but the woman doubted it would remember everything she had just told it.
"Thank you," it said solemnly.
Then it took off, wings beating with renewed enthusiasm.
As it flew away, it began humming—loudly.
Off-key.
Very off-key.
The succubus watched it disappear, lips twitching despite herself.
"...Idiot," she murmured, closing the door.
She turned just in time to hear rapid footsteps echoing down the hall.
"Nyssara!"
A small blur rushed toward her.
"Absolutely not," the woman said sharply. "Slow down!"
Too late.
A little girl skidded to a stop in front of her, grinning cheekily. Two small fangs peeked out as she smiled.
Her wings were short and purple, fluttering excitedly. Magenta hair was styled in a messy updo, dotted with tiny flowers woven carefully through it. Her horns were small, white at the base, fading softly into lavender at the tips.
She wore a simple pink gown and clutched a stuffed bunny tightly to her chest.
"I wasn’t running," the girl lied cheerfully.
Nyssara raised an eyebrow. "Your parents and I have both told you not to run in the halls."
The girl tilted her head innocently. "I forgot."
Nyssara sighed. "Of course you did."
She softened despite herself. "Come here. There’s a message from the palace."
The girl’s eyes widened. "For Mama?"
Nyssara nodded and extended her hand. "Let’s go find your parents."
The girl slipped her small hand into Nyssara’s, humming happily as they made their way upstairs.
They stopped before the grand chamber doors.
Nyssara knocked once.
Before she could say a word, the doors opened—and the little girl immediately slipped free and ran forward.
"Mama!"
Seraphielle barely had time to turn before her daughter launched herself into her arms.
"Velira," Seraphielle laughed, catching her easily. She pressed a kiss to the child’s cheeks. "How many times have I told you not to run?"
Velira giggled, hugging her bunny tighter.
"I was excited."
Her husband stood from his seat, smiling warmly.
He was tall and striking, horns curling slightly as they swept back from his head—larger versions of Velira’s. His wings were a pale, almost white shade of purple, matching his long hair. Silver eyes gleamed with gentle amusement.
Nyssara approached, bowing slightly as she presented the letter.
"From the palace, Your Grace."
Seraphielle’s eyes lit up.
She took the envelope eagerly.
"Well?" her husband asked excitedly. Since he came back, Seraphielle had been telling him about the queen and how she had been trying to seduce her. Maybe the queen had finally accepted his wife’s advances. "Has the queen finally accepted your advances?"
Seraphielle tore the letter open with a smile on her face—but then the smile fell as she read it.
"No. This is an invitation to the introductory ball," she said sadly.