Lubei
He gave it a suspicious look, but raised the cup to his lips, downing a gulp of liquid. Blinking at the mild sweetness and herban scent that seeped in.
A part of him lurched at the warmth.
Lubei Sang's bones were brittle. He remembered sights that others didn't. The moaning halls, where all must endure until they understand what they've dealt to others. He'd known what he deserved. His soul had been charred to the bone and not given the mercy to become ash. Memory and pain had grown again around it like meat, to be sloughed off again and showered in rime, and the cracks had crept into the marrow like scripture. He hadn't changed, though. Change needed work, and change needed time.
Lubei was only expected to follow the truth of power and the dignity of force in a world where respect was no right for the othered; Lubei Who Had Once Been was pulled between duty that was and conscience to be; and Sang strained to be everything inside the frozen walls he'd built so none could know how easy it was for them to crack him. The moment of unwarranted peace sent all these things toppling from the heights where they had been stacked.
The demon king heaved deeply, dragging a limp hand over his face. He badly needed to work on decompressing. Negotiations were probably the worst time to do so, but at this point he'd already entrusted them with Vanguard and was accepting pleasant hospitality, by human standards, so what the fuck.
"You are allowed to take care of yourself, you know," his ghostly companion cooed.
He looked back at at the Seraph's avatar. "Very well. Let's return to the subject. Details aside, there's one more thing. When I was retreating, another madman emerged from the hole in the sky."
There was a pause, and he uttered the next words carefully. "I don't know what it means for this mess, but he had a black wing, and the feeling he gave was... similar to you."