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DAEVA

I wake to find the remnants of our meager camp shrouded in half-light. Dawn hovers on the verge of the horizon, casting weak rays across the jagged ruins ahead of us. The wind carries the faint reek of old magic—sharp as ozone, laced with decay. It prickles along my senses, and a part of me tenses in anticipation. I glance toward Calla, who huddles near the smoldering embers of our dying fire. Her face is drawn, exhaustion bruising her eyes. We both know this place might hold answers—or fresh dangers.

We’ve come so far to reach these rumored ruins. Each step cost us blood and breath. Now, just within sight of the crumbled walls and collapsed spires, the final stretch weighs on our resolve. A hush hangs over the shattered remnants of what was once a grand fortress—or maybe a temple. The stone is dark, veined with some mineral that gleams in the pale dawn. A single arch juts from the rubble, reaching for a sky thick with bruise-colored clouds. It looks ominous, a monument to a forgotten age.

Calla’s gaze flicks to me. Despite our earlier tension—the secrets I’ve clutched, the argument that still simmers—there’s a determined glint in her eyes. She rises, wincing at the slow-healing wound on her shoulder. I feel a tug at my core—the bond that insists I shield her, even if I can’t always explain why. My heart twists with conflicting urges: to guard her from everything, and to keep her at a distance so she never learns the darkest shadows of my past.

She nods once, silently asking if we’re ready. I return a brief nod, and we break camp with minimal words, each lost in thoughts of the unknown. We descend a slope strewn with broken columns, stepping carefully over scattered debris. The air buzzes with old ward-traces, as if the land itself remembers the magic that once thrived here.

Up close, the ruins are a disappointment. The outer walls are little more than rubble, and the interior is a collapsed skeleton of pillars and archways. We walk among the wreckage, dust swirling at our feet. There’s no sign of hidden libraries or arcane vaults—no crypts containing secrets of demon curses. Just endless heaps of stone. I ball my fists, frustration gnawing.

“This place is… destroyed,” Calla murmurs, voice hollow. She runs her hand over a crumbled column, letting fine grit slip between her fingers. “Nothing left.”

I swallow the surge of bitter anger. Another dead end. For days, I’ve been half-telling her that these ruins might yield a clue to sever our bonds from Vaerathis, to break the tether that could kill us both if the ancient ancestor completes his ritual. Yet it appears we’ve arrived too late—or the rumors were false from the start.

Calla watches me, shadows in her eyes. I sense her disappointment, a mirror to my own. “What now?” she asks softly.

I exhale, scanning the lifeless expanse. “We look deeper,” I say, though my voice wavers with doubt. “Sometimes, the real secrets lie beneath the surface.”

She gives a weary nod. We pick our way through the rubble in silence, searching for any sign of a cellar or substructure. The wind stirs, carrying a faint echo—like a sigh from the past. I clench my jaw, trying to focus. No point in despair. We must try every corner.

We find a corridor half-buried by collapsed stone. Calla squeezes through a gap, and I follow, cursing the jagged edges that catch my cloak. We step into a small courtyard littered with shattered statues, their features worn to anonymity. A sense of ancient power, long dormant, clings to the stones. But no path leads down, no hidden stair that might hold forbidden knowledge. My hope fades.

Then, a faint sound pricks my ears—distant footsteps. I stiffen, glancing sharply at Calla. Her eyes widen, confirming she hears it too. We’re not alone. I motion for her to stay low, creeping behind a toppled column. She follows, breath shallow.

Through a gap in the debris, I see them: dark elves, at least nine or ten, fanning out across the courtyard. Their armor glints with the Vaerathis crest. My blood runs cold. They tracked us here. That means we’re in peril. House Vaerathis won’t stop until they drag us back to that ancient tyrant.

Calla’s expression sets in grim determination. She grips her dagger, shadows already flickering along her knuckles. I want to order her to hide, to let me handle it. But I know she won’t comply. We fight together, or not at all.

Then, all subtlety dies. A deep voice booms across the courtyard: “We know you’re here, demon,” a tall dark elf male shouts, stepping over a broken statue. “Show yourself, or we’ll tear these ruins apart.”

My teeth bare in a silent snarl. We exchange a look—neither of us is inclined to surrender. I nod once, then spring from cover, letting my cloak swirl around me. Calla moves in tandem, flanking my side. The elves jerk to face us, weapons raised, eyes full of triumph. Their numbers are greater than before, armed to kill. Dread coils in my gut.

One elf, presumably their leader, gestures with a gauntleted hand. “At last,” he sneers, black braids swinging. “Lord Vaerathis commanded we bring you in alive, but you’ve proven troublesome. I won’t hesitate to maim you if needed.”

I stare him down, shadows writhing along my forearms. “You’ll regret coming here,” I warn, voice resonant with demonic power. Bluff or not, we must appear strong.

He laughs, a cold, mirthless sound. “We’ve studied your weaknesses, demon. Your pact with that mortal girl. Don’t think we haven’t come prepared.” Around him, the other elves fan out, encircling us. I spot crossbows loaded with quarrels etched in runes, swords that glimmer with strange enchantments.

Calla tenses at my side, her pulse thrumming through the bond. We can’t be reckless. But the ring of armed foes closes in. No choice but to fight.

“Go,” I hiss at her. “I’ll cover?—”

She cuts me off, voice low and fierce. “I’m staying.” Her dagger flares with black sparks, testament to her new power. My heart clenches with mingled pride and fear.

Before we can form a plan, they attack. Bolts whistle through the air. I fling up a ward of shadow, deflecting some projectiles, but a few slip past my half-formed barrier. One grazes my leg, burning with arcane venom. Pain lances up my thigh. I grunt, staggering.

Calla hurls a blast of her own magic, catching one elf in the chest. He cries out, armor smoking as he collapses. Another lunges from the side, sword aimed at her exposed flank. I dart forward, intercepting his strike with a vicious slash of my claws. He reels away, blood spraying. But more close in, unrelenting.

They came prepared indeed—wielding wards that disrupt demonic energy, chanting spells that flicker in the air like silver glyphs. My power falters under the onslaught of their combined magic. Calla slams a swirl of darkness into a pair of elves, knocking them back, but she wavers, breath ragged. She’s not invincible. We’re cornered, pinned against a collapsed wall.

“Daeva!” she cries as another crossbow fires. I attempt to dodge, but the bolt buries itself in my side. Agony flares, scorching me from within. I snarl, yanking it free, black ichor staining the shaft. The runic etchings glimmer. My vision blurs for a heartbeat.

Seizing advantage, an elf drives his blade through my shoulder. I grunt, staggering back, pinned briefly against a fallen column. Pain rattles me. Focus, demon. Gritting my teeth, I unleash a desperate pulse of chaos, blasting him off me. He lands hard, but a second elf slams her mace into my ribs. My chest explodes in white-hot agony, and I collapse to a knee, fighting for breath.

Through the haze, I see Calla fighting with grim determination, her eyes glowing faintly red from channeling dark power. She dispatches one elf, but two more tackle her, pinning her arms. She screams, fury resonating. Shadows surge around her, forcing them back. The scene is chaos, both of us wounded, outnumbered. We’ll be overwhelmed any moment.

Gathering the last of my strength, I lash out with a wide arc of darkness, knocking several elves away in a swirl of debris. “Calla, run!” I rasp, pressing a palm to my bleeding side.

She scrambles free of her attackers, eyes locking on me. For an instant, fear and heartbreak war in her gaze. But she moves—grabbing my arm, hauling me upright with surprising strength. We break from the circle of foes, sprinting deeper into the ruins. Crossbow bolts clatter off stone as we vanish into a half-collapsed passageway.

Pain throbs in every fiber of my body, blood trickling from multiple wounds. My breath comes in ragged gasps, yet Calla drags me onward, refusing to slow. Our footfalls echo among broken walls. We take a twisting route, descending a crumbling staircase that plunges us further into darkness. Behind, the dark elves shout, their voices reverberating through the corridors.

She gasps my name, urgency in her tone. “Daeva, hold on.” Her free hand grips my torn cloak, steadying me. “We’ll lose them.”

I cough, spitting blood. The taste is acrid and bitter. I’m losing too much. My vision swims, but I force myself forward. The corridor narrows, debris crunching underfoot. A low growl echoes from somewhere ahead— not an elf , but some creature lurking in the depths. My battered senses flare. We’ve no choice but to keep going.

Sure enough, a hulking shape lumbers from the darkness—a beast with matted fur, elongated limbs, eyes glowing a sickly yellow. It snarls, baring fangs. My heart clenches. Not now…

“Move,” I bark at Calla, pushing her behind me. The creature lunges. I muster a thread of magic, flinging it at the monster. It staggers, yowling, but doesn’t fall. Too strong for a single blow. Calla tries to assist, flaring her shadows, but the corridor is tight. The beast snarls, swiping a massive claw. We dodge, and it rakes a chunk of stone from the wall.

Then the echoes of the pursuing elves draw nearer. We’re trapped between two threats. Adrenaline surges, momentarily numbing my wounds. I lash out again, channeling chaos into my palm. The beast roars, stumbling sideways. Taking advantage, Calla seizes my arm, hauling me past. We dash deeper, the creature’s enraged howls behind us.

The corridor slopes downward, crumbling steps slick with moss. Our pursuers’ shouts echo overhead—someone curses about “the demon heading below.” My side throbs with every step, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. But Calla’s determination buoys me. She’s desperate, guiding me on, refusing to let me collapse.

Suddenly, the floor gives way under our feet. We plunge into a hidden shaft with a startled cry. Stones clatter around us, and I slam hard onto a lower level, pain exploding anew. Calla lands beside me with a gasp, rolling over shards of debris. Dust billows.

I groan, forcing myself to check her. “Calla?—?”

She coughs, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m… alive.” She grimaces, blood trickling from a fresh cut on her temple. “You?”

“Worse each passing second,” I manage, biting back a moan. My wounds scream, but I cling to consciousness. Carefully, we push to our feet, discovering we’ve fallen into some kind of subterranean hall. The walls are etched with faded symbols, half eroded by time. A faint glow emanates from braziers that shouldn’t still be lit, unless…

“Do you feel that?” Calla breathes, eyes wide. “Something… calling me.” Indeed, a strange resonance vibrates the air. My spine tingles, and even in my agony, I recognize the taint of old mirror-magic.

We stagger forward, exploring the hall. Broken pillars line the center, leading to a dais at the far end. Debris litters the floor, but one object stands out—a tall frame, half draped in tattered cloth. My stomach knots. A mirror? The shape resembles the cursed artifact that once imprisoned me. A wave of dread surges.

Calla approaches it, as though compelled. “Daeva,” she murmurs, voice trembling, “this is… it feels like the same energy as your mirror.”

My blood chills. “Be careful,” I warn, lurching after her. My side throbs, strength waning. She moves closer, peeling the cloth away. Indeed, it reveals a large mirror, its surface black as midnight. Runes coil around its frame, flickering with a subdued light.

A static shock jumps from the mirror to our skin, and I hiss, stepping back. The runes flare, and the reflection shivers. Then an all-too-familiar presence floods the chamber—a hateful, ancient aura that sparks fear deep in my bones.

“No,” I whisper, horror constricting my chest. The surface warps, and a shape appears—a distorted visage of the withered dark elf ancestor. His eyes gleam with malicious triumph. His voice, oily and resonant, echoes in our minds:

“Daeva. My cursed creation. You’ve wandered long. Did you think you could escape me?”

Calla gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth. The mirror pulses, tethering her attention. I can’t tear my gaze away, either. Every muscle shakes with the realization that he’s found us, reaching through this mirror’s magic.

His rasping voice continues: “Your blood seeps into the stones. The ritual draws near. Return to me. Submit, and let this finally end.”

Ice grips my heart. I recall the half-truth I told Calla about wanting to kill him, about our souls bound in twisted immortality. He’s more determined than ever to reclaim youth, or complete the ritual on his terms. My body trembles, freshly battered, mind spinning.

“You won’t have him,” Calla snarls, stepping forward, defiance in her eyes. “I won’t let you.”

A mocking laugh resonates. “You can’t stop me, girl. You’re the key to controlling him. Your contract forged his tether. I will reclaim what’s mine—your very souls—and use them as I see fit.”

Her face contorts with rage. My heart clenches— Don’t let her lose control. But I’m too weak to intervene as she raises a trembling hand. The mirror’s surface flickers, and I sense the swirl of old magic threatening to suck us in, to drag us back to Vaerathis. A deep wind rakes the chamber, stirring dust into a maelstrom. Shards of stone vibrate underfoot.

Somewhere behind us, I hear the dark elves descending, their voices drawing near. Trapped from both sides. Calla’s fury peaks. She channels her demonic power, black sparks dancing over her skin. The mirror pulses in response, runes blazing. The ancestor’s face twists in cruel amusement, as though he beckons us closer. He wants us to step into his snare.

“Don’t—” I croak, trying to warn her. “It’s too strong?—”

But she won’t heed. She roars, slamming her power into the mirror. The runes flare white-hot, and an ear-splitting crack reverberates. The glass fractures under the onslaught, spiderweb lines racing across the surface.

The ancestor’s voice howls in outrage. “Foolish mortal! You—” His image warps, flickering. Then a final burst of energy explodes from the frame. Calla shields her face, but shards of mirror, sharp as daggers, burst outward in a lethal storm.

Time slows. I lurch forward, intending to shield her, but my wounded body falters. A chunk of mirror slams into my side, aggravating my injury, and I collapse to one knee. Horror dawns as I see smaller shards slicing across Calla’s cheek—and worse, two lodging in her eyes. She cries out, a raw, agonized scream that rips the breath from my lungs.

“No!” My heart seizes. Pain forgotten, I scramble to her side, catching her as she staggers, hands flying to her bleeding face. The remnants of the mirror clatter to the floor, runes extinguished. The ancestor’s presence vanishes, cut off mid-laugh. A swirl of dust chokes the air, and the overhead rock trembles dangerously.

Calla’s screams echo, each note a dagger in my soul. Blood streams from her eyes, the shards glinting with residual magic. My hands shake as I try to pry them out, black tattoos flickering across my arms. “Hang on,” I beg, voice cracking. “Calla?—”

Her body convulses with pain, tears mixing with crimson. “I—I can’t see,” she chokes, terror fueling her frantic grip on my cloak. “Daeva—help me.”

Desperation claws at my throat. My demonic powers, chaotic as they are, might accelerate healing, but this is no simple wound. The shards are embedded with cursed energy, and I’m already near collapse. Still, I try, focusing on the swirl of black magic coiling under my skin, hoping to purge the foreign shards from her flesh. My hands tremble as I hover them over her face, chanting a low incantation meant to unravel curses. The bond throbs with my fear.

A wave of dizziness slams me. My own injuries flare, blood loss weakening me. The incantation fizzles. She sobs in agony, breath ragged. I cradle her, fighting back tears of my own. I’m failing her. Clashing footsteps echo from the corridor above—our pursuers, no doubt, regaining the trail. We can’t remain here.

“Calla,” I whisper, voice tight with anguish, “we have to move.”

She nods through gritted teeth, tears streaking her cheeks. “I can’t… see anything,” she confesses, trembling. “Everything’s dark.”

Fresh guilt floods me. This is my fault. Had I not insisted on coming here, had I told her the truth earlier… But there’s no time for regret. I force myself upright, dragging her to her feet. She clings to me, half-blind, half in shock. My own wounds scream protest, but I grit my teeth, guiding her through the crumbling hall.

Chunks of rock keep falling, the structure destabilized by our battle with the mirror. Dust clouds swirl, choking our lungs. We stumble over broken pillars, the floor shifting beneath each step. Distantly, I hear shouting—dark elves, perhaps frightened by the collapse or still intent on capturing us. Either way, we have no path but forward, deeper into the ruins, hoping for an exit.

With each shudder of the walls, my legs threaten to give out. Pain from the crossbow bolts and sword slashes throbs mercilessly. Calla’s hold on my arm tightens—she’s disoriented, blindly trusting me to lead her. That trust tears at my heart. I must protect her, even if I can barely stand.

We edge around a corner, nearly plummeting into a pit where the floor’s caved in. I catch her waist, pulling her back. She gasps, panic in her blind eyes. My mind reels, scanning for any safer route. The ceiling cracks overhead, raining stones. A surge of adrenaline propels us forward. We can’t die here. My ancient foe might relish that, but I refuse to let the ruin bury Calla alive.

Finally, we find a corridor sloping upward, half-blocked by debris. Sucking in a breath, I push aside broken slabs, clearing enough space for us to squeeze through. She clutches my hand with trembling fingers, the only anchor in her darkness. My chest tightens. I mustn’t fail her.

We emerge into a jagged passage open to the stormy sky above. Thunder rumbles in the distance. At least it’s an exit. The moment we step out, a final tremor collapses the hall behind us. Dust plumes, sealing any return path. We’re free from the ruins, I note, but the cost is dire.

Breathing ragged, I guide Calla to a rocky outcrop. We collapse together, both of us battered and reeling. The sun has fully set, leaving the world swathed in deep twilight. Rain begins to fall, pattering on the stone, a cold drizzle that clings to our skin. My entire body shakes with pain.

She curls into me, tears mingling with raindrops, her eyes pressed closed around the shards. Blood still oozes gently from the corners. I cradle her head, careful not to touch the glass fragments. This can’t be happening. I try once more to channel a healing incantation, but my magic flickers, spent. I’m too weak, the curse too deep. The shards seem to resist my efforts, embedding themselves in her eyes with necrotic malice. She whimpers, face contorted in agony.

Hopelessness sinks in. My mouth goes dry, words failing me. She’s lost her sight, we’ve gained no answers, and House Vaerathis remains a looming threat. “I’m sorry,” I rasp, voice cracking. I don’t even know if she hears me above the drizzle and her own pain. “I’m so sorry, Calla.”

She trembles against my chest, fingers fisting in my torn cloak. “I c-can’t see,” she repeats, desperation choking her voice. “What… what do we do?”

I shake my head, heart twisting. “We get away from here,” I manage. “We find shelter, somewhere to heal.” My mind scrambles for a plan. Maybe if we can find a skilled healer, mortal or otherwise, though I suspect no normal magic can remove these shards. The mirror’s curse lingers, a legacy of that ancient tyrant. My blood boils at the thought. He’s taken her sight now, while he still hunts for me, for us.

Gritting my teeth, I push myself upright and pull her gently with me. My vision swims, blood still seeping from my side, but I cling to consciousness. I must remain standing—for her. She leans heavily on me, tears streaking the grime on her cheeks. We stumble away from the collapsed ruins, each step a fragile attempt to survive.

Somewhere behind us, the faint echoes of dark elves fade, drowned by the wind and rain. We slip into the darkness, battered and defeated, no triumphant escape to show. Just two wounded souls, haunted by curses and illusions of hope. The bond between us throbs with mutual anguish, heavier than ever.

She clings to my arm, stumbling over unseen rocks, each misstep tearing a soft cry from her lips. My chest tightens with guilt, anger, and something dangerously close to love. I swore I’d protect her, but now look at her—blind, wounded, broken. If I had told her everything sooner, if I hadn’t insisted on searching these worthless ruins…

We keep moving, slow and grim, until the rains intensify. A small cave in a rocky cliff appears through the gloom, and I half-carry Calla inside, nearly collapsing from relief. The shelter is shallow, but enough to keep out the downpour. We drop to the ground. I tear strips of cloth to bind my injuries, though I can do little about the crossbow bolt’s venom still coursing through my veins.

Calla lies there, curled on her side, silent tears soaking the bandage I place gently over her eyes. My breath shudders with every movement. I want to offer comfort, but the weight of our situation crushes me. What do I say? That it’ll be okay? I can’t even promise that.

At last, I find my voice in the dim, flickering shadows of stormlight. “We’ll rest,” I whisper. “We’ll… find help. I swear it.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Then she lets out a low, broken laugh that stabs at my heart. “Help? Where, Daeva? No one can fix this. The shards are cursed—my eyes are gone.” Her voice trembles with despair.

I close my eyes, fresh guilt choking me. My wounds burn, and I cradle her trembling hand. “I’ll find a way,” I insist, though it sounds hollow. My words ring with desperation rather than certainty.

Silence settles, punctuated by the steady drumming of rain. She drifts in and out of consciousness, pain and exhaustion dragging her down. I stay by her side, ignoring my own injuries as best I can, forcing myself to remain awake. I can’t let the darkness claim us both.

Time crawls. Lightning flares occasionally, illuminating the cave. Calla whimpers, turning her face against the stone. I smooth her damp hair away from her brow, hating how feeble my attempts at comfort are. If only I had enough power to undo the mirror’s curse. If only I’d found a solution in these ruins, or told her the truth sooner. Regrets swirl, threatening to drown me.

Eventually, in the dead of night, the storm lightens, and my gaze drifts to her slumbering form. My own eyelids sag, each breath a reminder of the crossbow bolt lodged near my ribs, the sword slash in my shoulder. We’re both grievously injured. Yet, for all our pain, the worst wound is what’s taken from Calla—her sight, her hope.

Despite my agony, I vow to keep watch until dawn. The world outside the cave is a black void of driving rain, cold wind howling. We’re defeated, battered, forced to cower. And yet, something fierce refuses to let me surrender. She’s blind, but I’m still alive. As long as I draw breath, I’ll find a way to restore her vision or at least ensure she survives. No matter how bleak this is, I can’t abandon her to despair.

I wrap my cloak around her, gently leaning her against my chest so she won’t shiver so badly. Her breathing stabilizes somewhat. The bond hums with sorrow. Carefully, I press a trembling kiss to her damp hair, letting my eyes close. If she were awake, she might question this moment of tenderness. But I can’t withhold it anymore, not when every heartbeat might be our last.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe into the silence, the confession lost in the patter of rain. “I promise… I won’t stop trying.”

Her fingers twitch around my cloak, as if gripping a lifeline. My heart squeezes. In her unconscious state, she mutters a faint sound, half my name, half a plea. I hold her closer, ignoring the sting in my side, tears blurring my vision. The ghost of what I feel for her, the guilt and yearning, the bitter truth of my curse—they coil into a singular resolve.

Tomorrow, we awaken maimed and lost. But tomorrow, I’ll begin anew, scouring the world for a way to restore her sight, to break this chain that would see us both destroyed. Even if it means confronting the darkest corners of Protheka or returning to Vaerathis with a blade at the ancestor’s throat. She gave up everything to stand by me—her freedom, her human soul, even her eyes. I owe her more than empty regrets.

Outside, thunder rumbles, the storm’s fury waning. In the flicker of sporadic lightning, I glimpse the battered woman in my arms, a stark reminder that I’ve failed her so far. My mind drifts to the monstrous reflection in the mirror, the old tyrant’s mocking laugh. He thinks he’s won. But as I lean my forehead gently against Calla’s, a simmering rage blooms in my chest—a vow of vengeance, tempered by the realization that I can’t pursue it at the cost of her life. Not anymore. I choose her.

So I keep watch, ignoring the blood that seeps from my wounds, ignoring the tremors that threaten to drag me under. When dawn finally creeps across the sky, pale and cold, I remain awake, cradling Calla’s hand in mine. We’re broken, hunted, half-blind and half-dead. I finally find a spark that drives me beyond hate and self-destruction—a spark I’ll do anything to protect.

No matter what the ancient ancestor has planned, no matter how he hunts us with cursed mirrors and dark elves, I’ll tear the entire House Vaerathis down if it means saving her. She’s lost her sight, but I’ll be her eyes until we find a cure. If we fail, at least we’ll fail side by side, defying fate’s cruelty to our last breaths. It may not be hope in the purest sense, but it’s enough to keep my heart beating for one more day.