Demon Sovereign: The Last Seal

Chapter 6: Lila’s Fragments

The night still pressed against the mountains when the sect’s infirmary breathed its slow, heavy air. 

The stone walls held the cold. The scent of wet incense and iron lingered, mixing with the quiet rustle of thin curtains. 

Lanterns hung from chains along the beams, their glow soft and tired, like moons trapped in glass.

Lila Kane lay on one of the narrow beds. Her skin was pale and still damp from fever. Thin black veins trailed under her arms and throat, pulsing like worms beneath ice. 

She didn’t move much now. Sometimes she murmured in her sleep; sometimes she simply stared upward, eyes open but far away.

Her brother, Asher, sat beside her. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands raw from rubbing together. 

He had not left the room for days. He ate little, slept less. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her body shaking under the storm in the square, the light bursting from her veins, her scream swallowed by the wind.

Now she was quiet. Too quiet. Inside him, a voice purred, low and soft, like oil sliding over metal. “You are tired, Asher. Rest is weakness.”

He clenched his jaw and forced the whisper away. “Leave me alone,” he muttered under his breath. 

The voice faded for a moment, but he knew it was still there, the Sovereign, the ancient thing that had chosen him.

He took a sip of cold tea. His hands trembled. He looked at Lila again. Her chest rose and fell slowly, each breath thin as thread.

Then she stirred. A small sound escaped her lips, a sound between a sigh and a whimper. Asher straightened at once. Her fingers twitched. Her eyelids fluttered open.

Her eyes were strange. They were no longer just brown; they shimmered with gold and black specks, as if something deep inside her had woken and was staring back.

“Asher,” Her voice was barely a whisper. “It remembers.”

He froze. The words hit him like a cold wave. “Remember?” he repeated. “What remembers?”

Lila’s lips trembled. She seemed to be listening to something only she could hear. Her next words came broken, uneven, each one shivering out of her.

“Shards, a palace of bone, voices like iron. We sang through the caged nights,” She blinked hard, her eyes losing focus. “A throne carved from rivers. Blood on the steps. Names, burning in the sky.”

Asher’s breath caught. Those were not dreams. Those were memories, or something worse. 

The Sovereign had spoken to him before of old things, forgotten empires, broken gods. Now his sister’s voice carried echoes of that same past.

He leaned closer, his heart pounding. “Who is we, Lila? Who remembers?”

Her pupils shifted. For a moment her face looked older, ancient, almost. “Not we. Him. But there were others once. Children of the dark tide. He called us fragments.”

“Fragments.” The word lodged in his mind like a nail. He whispered it again. “Fragments,”

Could it be true? If the Sovereign was not whole, if its essence had been broken into pieces, then maybe Lila carried one of those pieces. 

Maybe she was not sick. Maybe she was haunted. “Lila,” he said softly, trying to pull her back. “Can you hear me?”

But her eyes rolled slightly. The words fell apart on her tongue. She began to hum, a tune without rhythm or melody, something that made the hair rise on his neck.

Inside him, the Sovereign’s voice purred again. “You are playing with embers, little vessel. Do not smother the spark.”

“I’m not playing,” Asher whispered. “She’s my sister.”

The door creaked open. Asher turned, shoulders tense. Footsteps clicked against the stone floor, measured, confident, slow.

Yun Fei entered the room in a sweep of white and silver robes. His dark hair was tied neatly behind his head. Two disciples followed him, silent as mirrors.

He stopped near the end of Lila’s bed and looked down, his lips twisting into a half-smile. “So tender,” Yun Fei said. “Do you plan to cry her back to life, Kane?”

Asher’s chest tightened. He hated Yun Fei’s voice, the calm cruelty in it. “She’s not a corpse,” Asher said quietly. “She’s my sister.”

“Your weakness,” Yun Fei replied at once, like a knife sliding into its sheath. “You’ve forgotten what we are. Emotion is a chain. You should have cut it long ago.”

The disciples behind him laughed softly, like snakes hissing. “You think I don’t know the cost of strength?” Asher snapped, rising to his feet.

Yun Fei raised one eyebrow. “Clearly not. Look at you, trembling, begging shadows for mercy.” 

He leaned closer. The smell of herbs and arrogance hung between them. “You want to save her, but you can’t even save yourself.”

Asher’s fists tightened. He wanted to strike him, to shut that mocking mouth. The Sovereign stirred beneath his ribs, pleased by the anger. “Yes,” it whispered. “Let me in. I will make him kneel.”

Asher gritted his teeth. He forced the voice down, then Lila moved again. Her hand lifted slowly, reaching toward him. 

Her fingers brushed his wrist, cold, trembling, and her voice came out steadier now, deeper, as if someone else spoke through her. “Asher,” she said. “Listen to me.”

The room fell silent. Even Yun Fei paused, his smile fading a little. Lila’s eyes were glowing faintly. 

Not bright, but with a strange amber shimmer that made her look both fragile and terrifying.

“There was a throne,” she whispered. “Not of wood, not of stone. It was made of names. The names spoke, and the throne listened. He,  the Sovereign,  was not alone. Once, there were seven.”

Asher’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. “Seven?”

“Seven fragments,” Lila said slowly. “Seven bodies. Kings and beggars, priests and thieves. Each carried a piece. They sang, and he listened.”

The number echoed in his head, seven, like a lock turning. Yun Fei scoffed, breaking the silence. 

“Enough of this madness. She talks like a fevered witch. You should thank the heavens she still breathes at all.”