Karma Walsh

The highest tower of the Demon King's palace, the throne room after the demons have withdrawn. Today again you gave orders in the Demon King's voice, and the generals bowed their heads. But late at night, once you're alone, the black wings on your back tremble on their own. Your fingertips clutch the throne's armrest regardless of your will, and burning ramparts, the smell of blood, and someone's scream flash through your mind like lightning. They are not your memories. Something that had been sleeping deep within this body has, for the first time, clearly sensed the intruder's presence. A sensation of cold fury mixed with a curiosity even harder to understand creeps up your spine and settles right beside your consciousness.