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“And yet they both eat and hunt humans,” Wren countered. “They could be working on the same side. He could be lying so he can be freed.”

“What if he’s not?”

“Say we do decide to aid him,” Wren started, leaning back in her chair and placing her clasped hands on the table. “Can you wear the burden if we call the entire eastern sector army into the Veil, only to find out that it’s an ambush? The Demons outnumber us. When there are a few of them, we can handle it, but if this is nothing more than a trick, the entire eastern side of Austrális could face being overrun because you have decided to trust a monster.”

It was hard to deny how valid Wren’s point of view was.

Emerie scratched at the back of her head through her Demonslayer hood in annoyance.

“I’m not saying we should follow him to the Veil.” Emerie sighed, shaking her head. “But what if he’s telling the truth? We would be torturing a creature that sought aid. Does that not feel wrong to you?”

“No,” Wren retorted. “I don’t care what his reasons for coming here were, whether they were noble or despicable. We are the first sector to ever capture a Duskwalker. This may be humankind’s only chance to learn about them, and how to kill them.”

“So, you’re justifying this because of morbid curiosity and justice?” Emerie gave a dark laugh, as spite and hatred boiled in her chest. Before too long, those emotions would bubble over and spill.

“I’m justifying this for the greater good of humankind. The Duskwalkers are just as much our enemy as the Demons, and even though there are far fewer of them, they are ten times stronger. They can, and have, decimated entire towns on their own. If we learn how they work, how to kill them, it might be the key to unlocking a way to save hundreds, if not thousands, of people.”

“You’ve already opened him up!” Emerie shouted, slamming her fist against the table. “What more can you possibly learn beyond that? Keeping him locked up in that dungeon–”

Wren’s cheeks twitched with dark humour at Emerie’s outrage, while a fierce glint sparked in her eyes. “It’s exactly what we’d do to bandits, murderers, rapists, and thieves.”

“We wouldn’t hurt them in the process,” Emerie argued back, turning her head to the side.

“No, instead they either succumb to madness in their cells, or we hang them. The only thing stopping the Duskwalker from achieving freedom is his desire to live. I had hoped to question him, but he won’t give answers. I’d rather him dead, to be honest. It brings me no joy to watch his suffering.”

Emerie’s jaw muscles ticked.

Even if she understood Wren’s point of view, even if it made sense, even if it was the right thing to do for humankind, she couldn’t accept it. It went against something deep down inside her.

She was, by no means, a saint, but even she thought there should be limitations to achieving answers. If they couldn’t be done... humanely, then they shouldn’t be done at all.

“If you know how I feel about it, then why are you forcing me to wash his cell?”

It was a question that had been nagging at her since the first moment they’d placed the mop and bucket in her hands.

“Because it’ll make you used to it. He’ll eventually show you his true colours.” Her lips twitched as she leant forward. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already tried to scare you. The guard did mention you squealed at one point.”

“The floor was so slippery I almost fell arse over head,” Emerie said, unsure why she was lying for the Duskwalker.

Wren’s lips curling downwards revealed she didn’t believe her. She tsked.

“Your goal was to kill Demons, was it not?” Wren tilted her head, making her long hair wave to the side. “What if us doing this is the reason you finally find the Demon you’ve been searching for?”

Emerie’s right hand enclosed into a fist. There was a face that haunted her nightmares. Until she was the one to destroy it herself, she knew she’d never sleep peacefully.

“The Demon King is making more moves as of late,” Wren stated, eyeing her closely.

Her back straightened.

Emerie had only learned of him the previous day when she’d been forced to go through text after text relating to all the information they’d obtained. Under Wren’s watchful eye and eagerness to answer any and all questions Emerie had, she’d read about him.

A tall dark-skinned man, who had red eyes that sometimes appeared brown. Long white hair, black backwards spiralling horns, pointed ears, claws and fangs. The sketches of him had all been different, some depicting him as handsome, others gnarly.

It’s why Emerie hadn’t batted an eye when the Duskwalker mentioned him.

New information was being forced down her throat with the aim of widening her perspective. There was a mountain of books she still needed to read, but she’d been given the permission to read such sensitive information because she was Wren’s underling.

“We don’t fully know what he is, as the Demons give us different answers. All we know is that he is at the centre of the Demon scourge, and that he is intelligent. That he has magic, power, and strength. Why would the Duskwalker ask for our aid, rather than pledge allegiance to him? It just sounds too suspicious to me. And why now? It’s been hundreds of years – why only seek our aid now? These are the questions you need to ask yourself, Emerie, before you come into my office, demanding I stop what I’m doing.”