Pandemonium [Braxton & Larkspur]

[Braxton Obscura]

“Did you care that you put your twin sister at risk, dear brother?” The sound of his sister's voice echoed around The Mortis Pit as she approached from behind with thunder rumbling at her feet. Braxton didn’t glance behind him but her response and attitude to what he had asked his baby sister to do brought a smirk to his lips. 

“I assume by your presence, she accepted our invitation?” He pressed, his fingers coiling round the rail as he watched the warriors prepare The Pit for The Demon’s Wish event happening in 72 hours time. Enyo stood beside Braxton, raspberried and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

It was then, and only then did he steal a quick glance at her with a quirked brow; Enyo huffed. “She better be worth it because, fuck. I like her and her death would be a damned shame” 

“We do not get attached to our participants” Braxton firmly reminded his sister who gave him a roll of her eyes before departing. The Lord of The Vale glanced back at the pit and sat down upon his throne of scales; his fingers drummed against the arms.

——— 

The Vale gates opened to the supernatural communities; these gates only opened to the wider population once a year and only the strongest or the most desperate wandered through to participate in the games ahead. It was a tradition that apparently had been passed down since The Original Drakon family oversaw the volcanic mountainscape and it was one Braxton would continue. It did mean that whoever was the last one standing was allowed to ask one request to Braxton and Braxton was obligated, duty bound to make their wish become reality. Regardless of the one wish he had to fulfill, the patrons would fill his pockets with gold and coins which supported him financially and the upkeep of The Vale; but of course, those who put a bet upon the winner were also rewarded.

Tonight was the last night of freedom before the games, a formal night of celebrations and debauchery, where inhibitions were left at the gates. It was not uncommon for some participants to bail at this point and they were well within their rights to do so; right until the annual eruption of the Dalerin Volcano.

“They are ready for you” Riordan, one of Braxton commanders, smirked as he leaned against the doorframe of the study. Braxton straightened his tie and nodded to his reflection. 

When he turned to face Riordan, he mirrored the grin which Riordan responded by a nonchalant shrug. “Not everyday fae females enter these lands.” 

“Very true brother” Braxton patted Riordan’s shoulder with a wink, knowing all too well that his most trusted commander would be bedding many females until it likely fell off. 

—— 

The grand hall was ablaze with guests, patrons and participants alike; the party was in full swing with dancing, drinking, and people already beginning to take comfort in the arms of others. Braxton stood at the Dais; he caught Enyo enjoying the company of a rather slimy Merfolk but truly, Braxton was only looking out for one person. A blonde werewolf who was surely going to cause chaos but she would be the money maker. 

Braxton made a formal speech of the opening of the event but was acutely aware his star participant had yet to arrive; his jaw ticked with annoyance and the whole of the Lycanthro Vale would feel his wrath if she failed to show. Once the formalities were finished, he sat upon the scorched throne and a curvaceous vampire sprawled across his lap, her fingers trailing his stubbled jaw and whilst he savoured her touch, he couldn’t stop the frustration of the audacity of his star participant running late or worse...Not showing. 

[Larkspur Silverfang]

Larkspur held the overly embellished invitation, its ornate design almost mocking her as the woman who delivered it explained the event. How low had she fallen? Whispers of her disgrace echoed through the depths, tales of an alpha born now reduced to omega status. Yet here lay her chance—if she triumphed, a single wish would be hers to claim, a chance to reclaim the throne that had once belonged to her father before Dante and his rogue wolves usurped it. As her fingers traced the deep red embroidery, she felt the weight of the invitation, a pass to the ring where fate awaited.

Was she truly willing to risk her life for a wish to ascend as Alpha once more? The thought of surrendering to the haunting "what ifs" gnawed at her resolve. If she was to fall, let it be with claws bared, fighting fiercely for her crown. Beneath her skin, her wolf stirred with anticipation, chasing away her nerves. It had been far too long since she had stepped into a fighting arena; singing had become her refuge amid the chaos, yet the thrill of bloodshed still beckoned.

“Fuck,” she huffed, determination igniting within her as she moved to pack a bag. The night that set this all in motion was a party, one that Enyo insisted required her to dress to impress. An imp would whisk her belongings to the room that would serve as her resting place between the games. Her gaze fell upon the photo of her father, perched on the mantle of the small room she had been shunted to on the fringes of pack lands. “This is all your fault still,” she growled at the image, her frustration palpable as she rifled through her closet. What could possibly impress a demon?

-

Arriving at the event proved far simpler than she had anticipated, likely due to the magic infused within the invitation. As Enyo had promised, an imp promptly took her bag, disappearing into the depths of the venue while she lingered in the shadows just outside the doors. The sounds of revelry were nothing like the tales she had heard of hell, and as she watched figures flit by, she felt momentarily paralyzed. The lava flowed like a river beyond the entrance, its molten glow mesmerizing, though she felt none of its heat from her perch in the shadows.

This place was an enigma, a realm of contradictions. As she turned back to the door, the crackle of a mic drew her attention, and the husky voice of the Demon Lord began his speech. She listened intently, absorbing every word, and when he finished, the party surged back to life. She surveyed the crowd of black and red, noting how her pure white dress would make her stand out—a bold choice that would ensure her entrance was nothing short of spectacular.

With a roll of her shoulders, the resting bitch face she had perfected became her mask as she stepped into the threshold. Gasps rippled through the crowd, a momentary pause hanging in the air before whispers resumed, returning to their previous distractions. The sound of her heels clicked against the ground, parting the sea of bodies as she caught Enyo’s eye. Would her entrance earn approval, or was she about to lose her head?

As she approached the dais where the Lord sat, a vampire sprawled across his lap hissed at her. She arched a brow, giving a slight bow to Braxton before turning away, plucking a glass from a nearby waiter's tray. She needed a moment to breathe, to steady her nerves after making her presence known. Finding an alcove with a window, she gazed out at the world beyond—one she had never dared to dream of. 

Sipping from the glass, she savored the light alcohol. This would be her only indulgence; the games could begin at any moment, and she refused to let a hangover be her downfall. She needed that wish, and winning was her only path forward.