Broken Crown

The sound of steel clashing still echoed across the courtyard with a mixture of both the ever-corrupting curses and mystical yet ancient magic choking the very atmosphere around them like a cloud. Their attack had been without warning, nor was it the usual small time skirmishes but a full-scale attack with the intent of reclaiming that which ones belonged to them. The Black City that was once known the proud human capital of the Kingdom of Aedania, Meadwin, had plunged far after the sacking from its former prince and heir and had now become yet another warzone between the struggle for power between the demons and the spirits. The reason for the city's importance would at first glance appear to be minimal at most but held great value to those who knew where to look.

With the gates leading to the throne room that once belonged to that of a king being flung open by Purgatory's enforcers, the sound of Iskariot's footsteps could be heard as soon as he entered and from the shadows would emerge with the same stoic expression that would always accompany him. It was ironic how the table could turn on someone. As he laid eyes upon the Spirit sitting upon the golden throne, the demon would almost find it ironic that they would come face to face in the same manner that they did on their first encounter, only now with the position of who was the offender and the defender being swapped completely.