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"The demon is sentenced to permanent exile from Galmoleth. Return constitutes a challenge to royal authority and carries death by arena judgment."

Exile.

Galmoleth floats above a world that treats demons as invaders and monsters. To send Draxon from the storm-court is to strip him of rank, home, purpose, and every structure that has defined his life. The law leaves him alive only so his survival can advertise the cost of attachment.

"How can a sealed edict remain binding?" I ask.

"Demon law does not weaken through neglect. A royal edict remains active until formally repealed, even when every surviving copy gathers dust."

"So ignorance offers no defense."

"Ignorance rarely protects anyone from authority."

Vulmar traces the scar on his arm.

The archive presses around me, crowded with laws designed to make cruelty orderly.

"Why show me this now?"

"Because Draxon told you to learn the bars. Because Korgath failed to break this house by force. Because an enemy who cannot defeat the arena-master's strength will define that strength as a crime."

I look at the royal seal.

Korgath watched Draxon defend me on the promenade. He saw the Council ceremony and Draxon's refusal to punish my defiance. He struck my solarium and learned how quickly Draxon would tear through the spire to reach me.

He needs proof of an affectionate mate-bond, not merely rumor or protection required by decree.

I cannot know what proof he might seek or how he might obtain it.

But he has already been studying us.

"Does Draxon know this edict exists?"

“He knows old law contains dangers. He has never read Royal Edict Seventeen.”

"Then I have to tell him."

"Yes."

Vulmar rolls the metallic parchment with deliberate care. "First, you must understand it well enough to argue against those who will claim it is absolute."

"Can it be challenged?"

"Every law can be challenged. Survival depends upon the challenger, the arena, and what the court fears more than change."

His red eyes settle on me.

Vulmar is not merely the keeper of these records. He understands how royal edicts were constructed, which legal words conceal political choices, and which traditions existed before Asmodeus rewrote demon memory into obedience.

If this edict becomes a weapon, his history may be the only edge we possess against it.

I place my palm over the sealed cylinder.

Yesterday, allowing Draxon back into my life felt dangerous because he could wound me again.

That danger has become pitifully small.

Our restored bond can strip him of everything and cast him out of the only world he has left.