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In the deathly hush that follows, I hear my own pulse pounding like a war drum. I cough, lungs stinging. Slowly, I straighten, scanning the chaos. Bodies litter the dais, fragments of the summoning circle are scorched black, and swirling arcs of residual magic spark across the floor. The few surviving soldiers slip out through a shattered doorway, too frightened to face the demon’s wrath.

Across the ruined space, Malphas stands, wings drooping, chest rising and falling in powerful bursts. Portions of his carapace-like armor are cracked, the molten lines in his skin flickering. Despite the destruction, he radiates an aura of unstoppable power. My breath catches, torn between awe and terror.

His gaze finds me instantly, those eyes swirling back to crimson. My heart leaps into my throat. We’re alone now, more or less—no chanting priests, no immediate threat from the dark elves. Slowly, he crosses the broken ground, stepping over rubble and shattered bones with lethal grace.

I fight the urge to back away. He could kill me in one strike. But something in his expression halts my retreat. The lethal rage that consumed him a moment ago dims, replaced by an unreadable intensity. He halts an arm’s length away, looming in front of me, massive shoulders blotting out the flickering torchlight. I crane my neck to meet his gaze.

We stand in silence, dust motes drifting through the air. My pulse thrums, and I can’t predict what he’ll do next. I sense something in him—an echo of my own defiance, twisted andfierce. When he finally speaks, his voice is a ragged growl, but not directed at me in anger.

“They expected me to devour you.” A beat passes. “But I’m not done deciding your fate.”

I hold my breath, unsure how to respond. My wrists burn from the rope cuts, and my whole body shakes with fatigue, but I lift my chin. “I won’t die without a fight,” I say, though the waver in my tone betrays my vulnerability.

A fleeting expression of dark amusement flickers in his eyes. He inclines his head, almost respectful. “Your spirit…intrigues me,” he says, quiet enough that I strain to hear. “I’ve slaughtered dozens of sacrifices, but none looked at me like they’d tear out my throat if given half a chance.”

Confusion and adrenaline swirl in my veins. Is he mocking me, or is there genuine curiosity in his voice?

He raises a clawed hand, turning it over as though examining the blood caked on his knuckles. Then he speaks again, his voice edged with steel. “They want you dead. I don’t care about their desires.” His attention snaps back to me, molten eyes aglow with a dangerous promise. “You can either lie down and await their next attempt…or come with me.”

Shock lashes through me.Come with him?He’s no savior, but he’s offering a path other than immediate destruction. My heart thunders against my ribs. If I stay, the elves will certainly try this ritual again, or kill me out of spite for surviving. If I run, I’ll be hunted through the city. The only alternative is to align myself with a demon—one who just defied his own contract in front of me.

I lick my cracked lips, searching for words. “Why would you help me?” My voice is hoarse, uncertain if I trust his question.

His expression darkens slightly, as though grappling with a secret. Finally, he lowers his gaze, exhaling a gust that stirs the dust around us. “You’re not like the others,” he says at last,as if that explains everything. “And I suspect your death might not be as simple as they believe.” His hand extends toward me, claws still bared, yet not threatening. “Decide. Quickly. Before the entire palace guard arrives.”

I glance around at the devastation. Smoke wafts from the collapsed pillars, and moans echo from the injured. Time is short, and I can’t outrun a legion of dark elf soldiers on my own. With every labored breath, my chest aches, but I know the alternative to refusing him is certain doom.

Though terror still grips me, I push down my fears and step forward, placing my trembling hand in his. His skin is feverishly warm, the faint glow of his crimson veins pulsing against my palm. A strange charge passes between us again, electric and unsettling. He studies me as if waiting for me to break, but I don’t.

“Good,” he murmurs. Without another word, he turns, wings unfurling slightly as if to shield me from the scattered onlookers. We pick our way through the rubble, moving toward a side passage where the stone wall has cracked open from the arcane blast. I stumble, but he steadies me with a firm grip on my elbow.

My mind churns with confusion and raw adrenaline.I was meant to be devoured. Now I’m fleeing alongside the demon himself.Each heartbeat seems to echo the truth: everything I’ve known is about to change. And if the dark elves want me dead this badly, then whatever future lies ahead with Malphas might be my only real shot at living past this day.

As we slip through the breach in the wall, I cast a final look at the broken dais. Sacrificial blood pools in the cracks, and the runic lines flicker feebly. The robed leader lies unconscious in a corner, or worse. A chill seeps into my bones despite the heat radiating from my companion. I’ve just witnessedthe unthinkable—a demon defying the city’s most powerful overlords, and saving a human sacrifice.

My wrists throb, but my heart beats with ferocious determination. Even if Malphas’ motives are unclear, I’m not about to waste this chance at survival. If the city I hate so much wants me dead, then I’ll do everything I can to outlive it—and possibly unravel the secrets that led me here in the first place.

I tighten my grip on his scorching hand, letting him guide me through the hidden corridor. Every step resonates with the knowledge that we’re about to become fugitives in a city ruled by dark elves eager to crush any hint of rebellion. The very idea that I’m leaving this place upright—and not in a lifeless heap—ignites a fierce spark in my chest.

No matter what happens next, I’ve already chosen my path. Fate demanded my blood, and I refused. Now, at a demon’s side, I intend to survive.

4

MALPHAS

Istand in the crumbling archway of what used to be a storage cellar, winded from the fight against the summoning wards. My shoulders burn, the molten lines across my ebony skin pulsing with residual magic. Each breath vibrates against the collar of invisible, binding power I loathe. Rubble blocks the corridor behind us; dust still drifts in faint clouds, illuminated by the scattered torches lying broken on the ground.

Valentina stands to my right, arms crossed in a bid for calm, even though I sense her heart hammering. The trembling of her slender frame betrays her exhaustion. Her hair, dark and matted with debris, grazes her cheeks. There’s a bruise darkening near her temple, courtesy of the chaos that erupted in the ritual chamber. My choice to spare her stunned everyone present, including me.

Fresh fury licks at the edges of my thoughts, reminding me of how close I was to succumbing to the contract’s demands. By every right, I should have torn her apart under the King’s decree. Yet the moment I laid eyes on her, a sickening churn twisted my gut—something that felt like a warning. Slaughtering her didn’t sit right, and I can’t explain why.

She glances toward me, silver eyes uneasy but determined. For a human, she has an impressive resilience, standing her ground even while her knees threaten to buckle. I shift, dropping my gaze to the pile of stones that once blocked our escape path. I’d blasted the exit open to get us away from the remains of the summoning dais, but the cost weighs on my chest. The contract’s magic still gnaws at me, furious that I defied my so-called masters.

I roll my shoulders, feeling the battered membranes of my wings protest. My horns throb with residual energy, the broken tip sending sharp spikes of pain through my skull. I want to blame all of this on a single reason—some glitch in the summoning wards or a miscast incantation. But that would be a lie. I chose not to kill her. And I’m still making that choice, despite every screaming instinct demanding I fulfill my side of the pact.

She steps forward, arms dropping to her sides. “Where are we going?” she asks, voice thick with fatigue.

I let out a low growl, not directed at her but at the impossibility of the situation. “Far from this cursed palace,” I say, my tone curt. “If they corner us again, they’ll bring enough soldiers and wards to ensure I have no chance to resist.” It’s the truth. Once they realize I’ve rebelled, they’ll mobilize the entire fortress to subdue me—and by extension, her.