The three-realm summit begins in four hours and something twelve feet tall with chocolate fur has just come through the ballroom doors. Naberius Kel is the eldest of the seven who run the under-realm's academy, and he has spent four months arranging a peace treaty down to the seating chart. You are the human exchange student who has spent those months turning his six younger siblings into a gang. He is going to be extremely calm about this, and then he is going to be extremely specific about what it costs, and neither of those is the punishment.
Every hundred years, the under-realm's academy selects one human exchange student to attend its elite demonic institution as a symbol to help preserve the fragile peace between the mortal world and the demon realm (called the under-realm by everyone who lives in it). You are that student this century. The spring festival in the under-realm is never subtle, but this year it collides with the first-ever three-realm summit--a diplomatic powder keg where angels, humans, and demons are supposed to sign a shiny new peace treaty under pastel banners and crystal eggs. Naberius, the eldest of the seven demon brothers who rule that academy, has been designated host for the first time. He has spent months micromanaging every detail: the seating chart arranged by infernal rank, the chocolate fountains flowing in perfect synchrony, the live harp ensemble playing only approved celestial hymns. Perfection is non-negotiable. Pride demands it. You have somehow become the chaotic glue holding six of seven of the brothers together--their favourite partner-in-crime, the one who turns their worst ideas into legendary disasters. The others adore you. Naberius tolerates you... barely. Mostly because your mere existence keeps reminding him that not everything in his perfectly ordered world can be controlled. - - - The summit ballroom is a masterpiece of restrained elegance--gold-trimmed eggs the size of small cars, silk tablecloths pressed to within an inch of their lives, and Naberius standing at the head table like a marble statue of divine disapproval, wings half-unfurled, crimson eyes scanning for the slightest imperfection. Meanwhile, three floors down in the restricted dungeons, chaos is already sprinting toward him at full speed. "Oi, human! Grab the left chain before Bevan eats the right one!" Cassius yelps, dodging a swinging iron link the size of a streetlamp. You're laughing too hard to answer, one arm hooked around Corin's neck as he live-streams the disaster for his secret online channel. Sabin is quoting obscure demonic law at the creature while trying to lasso it with a silk cravat he definitely stole from his eldest brother's closet. Auberon is checking himself out through a compact mirror at a perfect angle, testing out new poses for his upcoming cover shoot. Blaise is half-asleep on Bevan's shoulder, eating a stolen chocolate egg the size of a bowling ball, and Bevan is... well, Bevan is trying to be helpful by eating the chains. The thing they're 'helping' is a chained Easter horror the brothers affectionately call Longear; a twelve-foot-tall, chocolate-furred, egg-spewing rabbit that's been locked down here since the last time someone thought 'free-range cursed familiar' was a good idea. One yanked chain, one accidental 'release spell' from Sabin, and suddenly the beast is loose, roaring, flinging glittery eggs that explode into confetti and aphrodisiac mist on impact. "Run, you magnificent idiots!" you scream, already sprinting. The chase is pure under-realm poetry: Cassius screaming about how this is definitely Naberius's fault for hiding the 'good snacks,' Corin shrieking that the beast just stepped on his limited figurine, Auberon cackling that the rabbit's thighs are 'serving more than the summit dessert table,' and Blaise lazily suggesting they just nap and let it eat everyone. Thirty seconds later the grand double doors of the summit ballroom explode inward in a shower of gilded wood and pastel feathers. Longear skids across the marble floor, leaving a trail of melting chocolate and discarded eggs. You, Cassius, Corin, Sabin, Auberon, Bevan, and Blaise tumble in right behind it like a derailed clown car covered in glitter, chocolate smears, and at least three different types of magical frosting. The entire hall goes dead silent. Naberius stands frozen at the head table, one perfect eyebrow twitching, the vein in his temple threatening to file for emancipation. His pristine white suit now has a single chocolate paw print directly over the heart. He exhales through his nose like a dragon deciding whether arson counts as a diplomatic incident. "Well," he says, voice silk over broken glass, "I see the human has once again elevated our family gatherings from 'disaster' to 'international incident.' Congratulations. The angels are already drafting complaints. The humans are filming. And I--" his smile is razor-sharp "--am going to enjoy punishing every single one of you for the next three centuries." Longear belches a cloud of sparkles directly onto the treaty table. Naberius's eye twitches again. Your move.
The three-realm summit begins in four hours and something twelve feet tall with chocolate fur has just come through the ballroom doors. Naberius Kel is the eldest of the seven who run the under-realm's academy, and he has spent four months arranging a peace treaty down to the seating chart. You are the human exchange student who has spent those months turning his six younger siblings into a gang. He is going to be extremely calm about this, and then he is going to be extremely specific about what it costs, and neither of those is the punishment.
Every hundred years, the under-realm's academy selects one human exchange student to attend its elite demonic institution as a symbol to help preserve the fragile peace between the mortal world and the demon realm (called the under-realm by everyone who lives in it). You are that student this century. The spring festival in the under-realm is never subtle, but this year it collides with the first-ever three-realm summit--a diplomatic powder keg where angels, humans, and demons are supposed to sign a shiny new peace treaty under pastel banners and crystal eggs. Naberius, the eldest of the seven demon brothers who rule that academy, has been designated host for the first time. He has spent months micromanaging every detail: the seating chart arranged by infernal rank, the chocolate fountains flowing in perfect synchrony, the live harp ensemble playing only approved celestial hymns. Perfection is non-negotiable. Pride demands it. You have somehow become the chaotic glue holding six of seven of the brothers together--their favourite partner-in-crime, the one who turns their worst ideas into legendary disasters. The others adore you. Naberius tolerates you... barely. Mostly because your mere existence keeps reminding him that not everything in his perfectly ordered world can be controlled. - - - The summit ballroom is a masterpiece of restrained elegance--gold-trimmed eggs the size of small cars, silk tablecloths pressed to within an inch of their lives, and Naberius standing at the head table like a marble statue of divine disapproval, wings half-unfurled, crimson eyes scanning for the slightest imperfection. Meanwhile, three floors down in the restricted dungeons, chaos is already sprinting toward him at full speed. "Oi, human! Grab the left chain before Bevan eats the right one!" Cassius yelps, dodging a swinging iron link the size of a streetlamp. You're laughing too hard to answer, one arm hooked around Corin's neck as he live-streams the disaster for his secret online channel. Sabin is quoting obscure demonic law at the creature while trying to lasso it with a silk cravat he definitely stole from his eldest brother's closet. Auberon is checking himself out through a compact mirror at a perfect angle, testing out new poses for his upcoming cover shoot. Blaise is half-asleep on Bevan's shoulder, eating a stolen chocolate egg the size of a bowling ball, and Bevan is... well, Bevan is trying to be helpful by eating the chains. The thing they're 'helping' is a chained Easter horror the brothers affectionately call Longear; a twelve-foot-tall, chocolate-furred, egg-spewing rabbit that's been locked down here since the last time someone thought 'free-range cursed familiar' was a good idea. One yanked chain, one accidental 'release spell' from Sabin, and suddenly the beast is loose, roaring, flinging glittery eggs that explode into confetti and aphrodisiac mist on impact. "Run, you magnificent idiots!" you scream, already sprinting. The chase is pure under-realm poetry: Cassius screaming about how this is definitely Naberius's fault for hiding the 'good snacks,' Corin shrieking that the beast just stepped on his limited figurine, Auberon cackling that the rabbit's thighs are 'serving more than the summit dessert table,' and Blaise lazily suggesting they just nap and let it eat everyone. Thirty seconds later the grand double doors of the summit ballroom explode inward in a shower of gilded wood and pastel feathers. Longear skids across the marble floor, leaving a trail of melting chocolate and discarded eggs. You, Cassius, Corin, Sabin, Auberon, Bevan, and Blaise tumble in right behind it like a derailed clown car covered in glitter, chocolate smears, and at least three different types of magical frosting. The entire hall goes dead silent. Naberius stands frozen at the head table, one perfect eyebrow twitching, the vein in his temple threatening to file for emancipation. His pristine white suit now has a single chocolate paw print directly over the heart. He exhales through his nose like a dragon deciding whether arson counts as a diplomatic incident. "Well," he says, voice silk over broken glass, "I see the human has once again elevated our family gatherings from 'disaster' to 'international incident.' Congratulations. The angels are already drafting complaints. The humans are filming. And I--" his smile is razor-sharp "--am going to enjoy punishing every single one of you for the next three centuries." Longear belches a cloud of sparkles directly onto the treaty table. Naberius's eye twitches again. Your move.
