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7

CALLA

I rise in the gloom before dawn, exhaustion clinging to my bones like a damp shroud. The embers of the fire have dwindled to gray ash, leaving only a faint warmth on the cave floor. Jenna sleeps with her head on Cole’s shoulder, her breathing rough but steady. Ryn dozes nearby, arms crossed, while Silas still stands a silent watch, crossbow in hand. His eyes are bloodshot with sleeplessness.

Daeva, seated against the far wall, lifts his gaze when I stir. Our eyes meet in the flickering darkness, and the weight of last night’s revelation crushes any chance of a gentle morning. I look away, unable to hold his stare for long. My whole body hums with the knowledge of what he told us: that our salvation comes with a terrible price. A soul for a life, or some twisted variation thereof. And I’m the one who unleashed him, forging a demonic contract I never thought through.

Dirroth lies curled near the cave entrance, that massive skeletal waira form half-covered by a patchwork cloak. Amalia rests at his side, her cheek pillowed against a nest of fur. Just a few hours ago, Dirroth tore another waira apart before our eyes, defending us as much as his own territory. Unthinkable alliances—us with him, him with us—tied together by necessity.

I rub the stiffness from my neck and stand, stepping carefully around the others. As I straighten, my limbs ache from sleeping upright on the cold stone. I need fresh air, or maybe just a moment of solitude to piece my thoughts together. But the cave’s confines only remind me how trapped I feel: locked in a demon’s contract, surrounded by monstrosities of the forest, pursued by elves and orcs who would enslave or kill us.

A rustle of movement announces Amalia’s wakefulness. She sits up, stretching stiff shoulders, then passes a fond look at Dirroth. The waira stirs, that eerie red glow flicking beneath his ribs. His aura remains subdued after last night’s fight. I sense no immediate aggression in his posture, though the tension in the cave is thick enough to choke on.

“It’s almost dawn,” Amalia says softly, turning her calm gaze toward me. “We’ll show you the way to the old hunting path. From there, it’s just a day’s journey to the human settlement.” She brushes a few stray strands of hair from her face and adds, quieter, “I hope it gives you safety.”

Dirroth utters a low, guttural sound. “I hope they leave quickly,” he rumbles, though the menace in his voice is half-hearted at best. “My territory is cramped enough without more weaklings to protect.”

Amalia gives him a reproachful nudge with her elbow. “You’re a terrible liar, Dirroth. You almost seem to like them.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement, an affection I find both baffling and touching. How can she be so at ease with a flesh-eater? Yet it’s clear she’s bound to him by more than fear. There’s genuine devotion in the way she looks at him.

Daeva stands. Even half-drowsy, he commands the space with an unsettling grace. Those swirling black tattoos mark his forearms, the same arms that so easily channeled chaos and death when we needed it. My chest constricts as I remember the price that remains unpaid. Before I can speak, Silas crosses to me, crossbow slung over his shoulder, expression grim.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

I nod, rubbing my hands along my arms. My clothes still carry the faint smell of rot and waira musk. “Yes. I can’t imagine staying here any longer.”

Ryn and Cole stir Jenna awake, helping her to her feet. She’s pale but determined, managing a weak smile for me. “I can walk,” she insists, though her knees tremble. Ryn supports her carefully, and we gather what little supplies we have left.

As we make for the cave entrance, Dirroth grunts. “Bring them,” he says to Amalia, stepping aside so we can pass. “I will watch for other waira.”

We exit into the predawn hush. The sky glows faintly purple in the east, crowning the distant mountains with a cold, ethereal light. Tall pines sway around us, their needles brushing our shoulders as we move through the undergrowth. My breath mists in the chilled air. I cling to the small hope that once we reach the human settlement, we can rest, reorganize… perhaps figure out what to do about this demonic contract.

Amalia leads us through a twisting path, Dirroth stalking silently behind. The forest here is so thick that the morning light barely penetrates, leaving us in a perpetual twilight. A few times, I catch glimpses of bony silhouettes slipping between tree trunks, other waira perhaps, but none approach. Whether they sense Dirroth’s presence or simply lack the hunger, they keep their distance.

By the time the sun has fully risen, the terrain begins to level out. A narrow game trail emerges between mossy rocks, leading west. Amalia halts, turning to face us.

“This is it,” she says, pointing down the faint path. “Follow it for a day, maybe less if you walk swiftly. You’ll come upon a small outpost where some humans trade occasionally. They’re wary of strangers, but they should be less hostile than elves.”

I exhale. “Thank you,” I say, voice scratchy from disuse. “You’ve done more for us than we could’ve hoped.”

She just smiles, her gaze flicking to Daeva momentarily. “I did what felt right. And you—” She fixes her attention on him. “Don’t forget what we talked about. You owe them clarity.”

An uneasy tremor slithers through my stomach. Daeva inclines his head, lips pressed tight. “I won’t forget,” he mutters.

Dirroth huffs, crossing his skeletal arms over his protruding ribs. A swirl of greenish color glows between them, some mix of annoyance and territorial pride. “Leave now, or I’ll change my mind,” he growls. But there’s no real threat in his tone. “If you see more waira, run. Or kill them first. Less competition for me.”

A single, awkward beat passes. Then Cole chuckles nervously. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Amalia steps forward, pressing a small pouch into my hands. “Herbs,” she explains. “The same kind I used for Jenna. If her fever spikes again, steep them in water, make her drink. It might help.” Her eyes soften. “Good luck.”

I nod, placing a trembling hand over the pouch. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice catching. For a moment, the lump in my throat is almost too large to swallow. Somehow, these two—Dirroth and Amalia—have become an odd beacon of hope in a world that seems determined to devour us. If they can find acceptance with each other, maybe there’s a chance for the rest of us.

Without further ceremony, we part ways. Dirroth and Amalia vanish back into the shadows of the forest, leaving us alone on the game trail. A hush settles, broken only by the rustle of branches overhead. The path stretches before us, seeming endless. But it’s a direction, at least.

We walk. At first, no one speaks. Jenna leans heavily on Ryn, her feet dragging. Silas maintains a short lead ahead, scanning for signs of ambush. Cole flanks the rear, dagger at the ready. Daeva drifts closer to me than usual, though he doesn’t speak. My heart thuds with the knowledge that soon, we’ll have to face what we’ve avoided for so long.

Half the morning passes in a daze of step after aching step. The forest gradually opens into rolling hills dotted with scrub and smaller trees. A hawk screeches above us, circling lazily in the milky sky. Rocks jut from the ground like broken teeth, forcing us to weave around them. My shoulders burn from tension, and my mind won’t stop replaying Amalia’s final words: You owe them clarity.

Eventually, Ryn calls for a rest near a half-collapsed stone wall—perhaps the remnants of an old boundary marker. We settle behind it, out of the breeze. Silas drops the crossbow and rubs his temples, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. Jenna settles onto the grass, breathing shallowly. Cole and Ryn rummage for water, but our supply is nearly gone, just a trickle sloshing in the bottom of the skins.

Daeva remains standing, eyes scanning the horizon. His posture is tense, as if he expects an attack at any moment. Or maybe he’s just bracing himself for a different confrontation.

My stomach flips. This can’t wait any longer. Amalia was right—there’s no point dragging my friends into a deal they never asked for. And if someone must pay, I know it should be me. Shame and dread war inside me, along with a spark of something else: a strange, irresistible pull that I can’t name.

I stand, brushing bits of grass from my legs. “Daeva,” I say softly, pitching my voice so the others won’t overhear. “Can we talk? Alone?”

He glances at me, the storm in his silver-blue eyes barely contained. Then he inclines his head. “Lead the way.”

I move away from the ruined wall, rounding a bend of shrubs until we’re out of earshot. The wind rustles dried leaves across the ground. My heart thunders loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I face him, inhaling shaky breaths, and force myself to meet his gaze.

“I can’t let them pay for my mistake,” I begin, voice trembling. “I’m the one who freed you from that mirror. That means the contract is my burden.”

He tenses, jaw flexing. “Calla, it isn’t that simple?—”

“Isn’t it?” I interject, stepping closer. “You said a life, a soul must be given. But it was me who summoned you—my hands that touched the mirror, my voice that spoke the words. I can’t let Jenna, or Silas, or anyone else bear that price. It’s mine.”

His eyes narrow, pain etched in the furrow of his brow. “I never wanted you to suffer,” he says, voice taut. “But the law of demonkind—ancient magic older than memory—demands balance. Payment for power.”

“I know.” My pulse quickens, a restless fire in my veins. The reality of what I’m about to offer sinks in. “So let me pay it. But you have to promise me something first.”

He folds his arms, tension evident in every line of his body. “Name it.”

I swallow hard. “Promise you’ll leave my friends alone. That no matter what happens, Silas, Cole, Ryn, Jenna… they walk away free.” My throat constricts as I add, “I can’t bear it if they’re forced to make some sacrifice.”

His expression shutters, conflict raging in his eyes. Finally, he nods—slowly, deliberately. “I promise.”

A tremor of relief mingles with dread. I stare at him. “How do we… finalize this? Do you… do you need me to kill someone? Or?—”

“No,” he interrupts, voice rough. “Nothing like that. Typically, a demon demands the mortal’s life or soul directly. You… you offer yourself to me fully, irrevocably. Obedience in all things.” His gaze slides away. “You sign your soul over, become bound by my will.”

His words slash through me. Obey him unconditionally. The notion sets my heart fluttering between terror and a sudden jolt of heated curiosity. Why am I… excited? The shame of it stings, but I can’t deny that my pulse thunders not just from fear.

I lick my lips, forcing the question: “If I do that… what happens to me?”

He exhales, a long, ragged breath. “You become mine, in essence. You’ll feel the demonic influence. Magic might awaken in you, or shift your emotions, amplify your desires. It can be dangerous.” His voice drops. “I don’t fully know how it will affect a mortal who willingly gives their soul to a demon that was once human.”

A breathless laugh escapes me, high and strained. “So you’re not sure if it’ll make me… insane? Mindless?” My stomach twists at the possibilities.

“Possibly neither. Possibly something else,” he says, words hushed with regret. “But you’ll gain power, Calla. Strength beyond human limits. I—I can’t guarantee it won’t devour you.”

Despite the fear roiling in my gut, a spark of determination flares. I think of the chains I’ve worn, the helplessness that’s haunted me my entire life. Slavery under dark elves, subjugation under orcs, or something worse if we can’t defend ourselves. Am I truly free if I live every day in fear?

“Then we’ll figure it out,” I whisper. “Better me than any of them.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “You’re certain?”

I nod, trembling. “Yes.”

A beat of silence, heavy as a tomb. Then he lifts his hand, and black markings swirl over his skin, stirring like living shadows. “The contract can be sealed by words,” he explains quietly. “A vow. Then… we affirm it with a blood oath. Or a kiss, in some traditions.” A faint flush touches his cheeks. “I don’t want to force you to cut yourself.”

My chest tightens with a mix of terror and something else I dare not name. “So a kiss is enough?”

He inclines his head. “If you’re sure. It’s unorthodox, but the magic will recognize intent.”

I exhale, trying to steady the pounding in my ears. A thousand half-formed thoughts collide in my mind: Am I really doing this? Will it truly save them? Will I survive this power coursing through my veins? But I find no alternative. Either I pay, or the contract remains unfulfilled, and we all risk damnation.

Daeva’s eyes burn with intensity as he speaks the ancient words—a demon’s binding incantation. The syllables scrape the air, thick with power. My skin prickles, every hair standing on end. The forest hushes, as if listening to our clandestine vow.

He finishes, voice trembling with a raw edge: “…and in the acceptance of this mortal soul, the contract stands. Speak your name and pledge.”

I swallow the dryness in my throat, trying not to falter. “I… Calla… offer my soul to you, Daeva. I swear obedience and… and service,” my cheeks flame at the word, “so that my friends may be spared. Let the contract be paid.”

Even before I finish, I feel it—a ripple of cold energy passing through my spine, coalescing in my core. The air crackles, a static hum raising goosebumps along my arms.

Daeva steps closer, shadows writhing around him. “Calla,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Then we seal it.”

I can hardly breathe. My heart hammers as he lifts a hand to cup my cheek. The heat of his skin contrasts with the swirl of cold magic between us. Our gazes meet, and in that moment, every doubt and fear collides with a deep, inexplicable yearning. Gods help me, I want this.

His lips descend on mine, capturing them in a kiss that ignites every nerve in my body. Heat surges, devouring the cold, wrapping me in a pulse of raw energy. My knees weaken, and I cling to his forearm for balance, fingers digging into the corded muscle there. His free hand slides to my waist, steadying me with surprising gentleness.

The kiss is not soft or tentative. It’s laced with desperation, an undercurrent of hunger that echoes the swirling power. My skin tingles, molten warmth spreading from where our mouths connect, rushing through my veins like liquid fire. I feel him exhale against my lips, a ragged sound that resonates with the frantic beat of my heart.

A faint spark crackles between us, dancing across my senses. My breath hitches. I taste something wild in him—centuries of pain and longing, tempered by fierce resolve. The swirl of black tattoos on his forearms glows faintly, as if in response to our contact. My entire body feels suspended in that luminous rush of magic, halfway between terror and ecstasy.

Slowly, he breaks the kiss, panting softly. The world around us spins, and I cling to his chest to keep from collapsing. My pulse thrums, energy buzzing behind my eyes. I can barely form a thought.

“Calla,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against mine. “It’s done.”

I tremble, pressing a palm to my chest. Beneath my palm, my heart gallops. I sense a foreign presence fluttering in my mind, like a door unlocked to a room I never knew existed. A whisper of power nips at my consciousness, beckoning me to embrace it. Is this the demon influence he warned about?

“What… what happens now?” I manage, voice shaky.

His gaze darkens, regret and possessiveness intertwined. “You belong to me. I’ll protect you, guide you, but we must tread carefully. Already, I feel the bond pulsing between us, merging our energies.” His throat bobs. “You may sense my emotions, and I might sense yours. This is more than a contract—it’s… a tether.”

A sudden wave of vertigo hits me. I stagger, and he steadies me. My cheeks blaze with heat, equal parts embarrassment and that lingering spark from the kiss. The memory of it burns on my lips—strange how something so dangerous could also be so… intoxicating.

After a moment, I straighten, forcing myself to breathe normally. “So long as my friends are free,” I whisper. “That’s all that matters.”

A flicker of pain crosses his features. “Yes.” His arms fall to his sides, though I notice how one hand hovers near me, as if unable to fully let go. “But they must never learn the details—some might fear you now. Demonic power draws hostility.”

I recall Silas’s expression whenever he glances at Daeva, the barely masked suspicion. If Silas knew I’d pledged myself so completely, how would he react? I suspect not well.

“Alright,” I agree, voice subdued. “I won’t say more than necessary.”

We linger in silence, the forest breeze caressing our heated faces. The space between us crackles with new tension: I sense him, not just physically, but on a deeper level, as if a chord connects our hearts. Is that his longing, or my own? The lines are already blurring.

At last, he clears his throat. “We should return to them,” he says, voice low. “They’ll wonder what happened.”

My stomach clenches with apprehension. “I need a moment, then I’ll join you. Tell them… tell them I needed water or something.” I want to gather my thoughts, quell the racing of my heart. He hesitates, concern flickering in his eyes, but eventually nods and slips away, leaving me alone in the hush of the scrubland.

The wind rustles the grasses around me, and I tilt my head back, gazing at the pale blue sky. My lips still tingle from his kiss. Beneath that fleeting physical sensation, a deeper thrumming resonates—like a second heartbeat echoing in my chest. The bond. I belong to him. A shiver of dread and excitement courses through me at the realization.

He told me that I might change, that demon influence might twist my emotions. Already, I feel the stirrings of something new inside me: a roiling mixture of raw power and longing. I swear I can sense the faint pulse of Daeva’s presence, as though he stands behind my eyelids, watching. The thought sends a hot flush over my cheeks.

Eventually, I force my limbs to move. We can’t stay hidden forever. The contract’s sealed; no going back now. And my friends—my family—are depending on me to see this through. I push away from the bushes and retrace my steps around the bend.

They’re waiting by the ruined wall, scanning the horizon for threats. Jenna is pale, but awake, leaning on Ryn’s shoulder. Silas stands near the front, arms crossed, eyeing Daeva suspiciously. Cole meets my gaze, relief softening his features. “You alright?” he asks.

I force a tight smile. “Yes,” I lie. “Just needed some air.”

Silas arches a brow. “We all need air. You were gone a while.”

“Let it be, Silas,” Ryn murmurs, giving me a sympathetic glance. “We’re all on edge.”

Daeva remains silent, arms folded, face unreadable. But I sense the tension in him—this unspoken knowledge of what just transpired. My cheeks burn again. Thankfully, no one presses further, though Silas’s eyes linger with a flicker of concern that borders on jealousy. I’m sorry, Silas. I did what I had to do.

Cole helps Jenna to her feet. “Shall we keep moving? We might reach that settlement by nightfall if we push.”

We set off once more, following the trail across rocky plains. My skin prickles with new awareness, the wind’s touch sharper than before. Every so often, I glance at Daeva, and he catches my eye, lips tightening in a private acknowledgement of our secret. Each time, warmth pools low in my belly, mingling with guilt.

The hours pass in a grim march. The sun climbs high, baking the stones underfoot, then begins its slow descent. We spot occasional fragments of old roads—weathered cobblestones peeking through the dirt—and once, a battered signpost with no readable letters. By midday, Jenna nearly collapses from fatigue, forcing us to slow even more.

I fall into step with her and Ryn, offering an arm when she wobbles. She tries to smile. “I’m okay, really,” she protests, sweat beading her brow. “Just… a little tired.”

I brush damp hair from her face. “We’ll rest soon.” My voice catches. She’s alive because of me, but at what cost? The contract’s shadow hovers at the edge of my thoughts, a constant reminder that my soul is no longer my own.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jenna whispers, eyes flicking behind us. I suspect she notices how I keep glancing at Daeva.

Forcing a nod, I feign confidence. “Yeah. Tired. That’s all.”

Eventually, the sun sinks toward the horizon, painting the sky in bruised oranges and purples. Just as twilight creeps across the land, we crest a small rise and glimpse, in the distance, a scattering of structures—wooden fences, low huts, and the faint glow of torches. My heart leaps. Civilization. Humans, presumably. We might find a roof, real food, medicine for Jenna.

Cole grins, though exhaustion lines his face. “Look!” he exclaims, pointing. “That must be the outpost.”

Silas squints. “We have a few hours of light left. Let’s push forward.”

Jenna gives a shaky laugh. “Beds. Maybe even soup.”

We press on, determination renewed. Daeva remains quiet at my side, and I sense his wariness. He’s not used to approaching human settlements. I recall what Amalia said: some humans might be wary of a demon. But we have no choice if we want refuge.

Near sundown, we reach the outskirts—a rough palisade of sharpened logs marking the boundary. A pair of watchmen, clad in dusty leather, step forward warily, torches held high. They call out, “Halt!” and we oblige, raising our hands to show no threat. Tension spikes, but eventually, they let us in with a warning that the local leader will want to see us. Silas does most of the talking, explaining we’re refugees fleeing dark elves. They don’t press for details, and my heart swells with relief when no one demands too many answers.

Inside, it’s little more than a cluster of wooden huts, a few ramshackle stalls, and a communal fire pit. Still, it’s the closest thing to a town we’ve seen since leaving Vaerathis. People eye us from doorways, curious and cautious. We find a stable where a tired-looking woman named Mira agrees to let us sleep on straw pallets for the night, in exchange for a handful of trinkets we scrounged from the orcs.

I sink onto one such pallet, ignoring the itch of straw beneath my sore body. It’s not a luxurious bed, but it’s better than stone floors or muddy ground. Jenna collapses beside me, relief etched in her features. Silas and Cole speak with Mira about buying simple provisions. Ryn stands guard, scanning for trouble.

Daeva, though, lingers in the corner, half-hidden by shadows. When my gaze meets his, the tether between us pulses, a subtle reminder of the vow sealed by our kiss. My entire body tightens with that recollection—fear and an inexplicable longing swirl like a tempest in my veins.

An uneasy calm settles over the stable, broken only by the snuffling of horses in nearby stalls and the low murmur of the outpost’s inhabitants outside. I attempt to rest, but my mind thrums too loudly with all that’s changed. The hush of evening drags on, and eventually Silas, Cole, and Ryn drift into an exhausted doze. Jenna is already asleep, face pressed into the crook of her arm.

I glance at Daeva again, heart lurching. In the dim torchlight, his hair glows pale, his angular features highlighted by sharp shadows. The black markings on his arms ripple subtly, as if alive. I rise, compelled by an urge I can’t quell, and approach him.

He regards me with a mix of wariness and warmth, stepping aside so my footfalls don’t disturb the others. “You should sleep,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “We have a long road ahead.”

I chew my lip. “I can’t. There’s too much… swirling in my head.” My heart hammers, recalling how it felt to share that kiss, how power and heat twisted inside me. “This bond… it’s like I can’t stop thinking about you. Is that normal?”

A flicker of guilt passes over his expression. “It’s the contract. Part of your essence is bound to me. You’ll sense my presence… my emotions, perhaps.”

I swallow. “I sense something.” My cheeks burn. “Desire. Fear. I don’t know if it’s mine or yours.”

His eyes darken, tension in his shoulders. “Likely both. Our emotions feed off each other. I’m sorry.”

A strangled laugh catches in my throat. “Don’t apologize for how we feel. This was my choice.”

He lifts a hand, almost touching my cheek, then stops short. I see the question in his gaze— Is it too soon? Too intimate? But the bond tugs at us, drawing me closer until my body almost brushes his. My breath catches in my throat, a tremor of longing rippling through me.

“Calla,” he whispers, voice cracked with vulnerability. “I won’t let this contract destroy you. If there’s a way to free you without harming your friends or me… I’ll find it.”

I rest my palm against his chest, sensing the steady beat of his heart. Heat floods my face. “Thank you,” I manage. “But until then… we’re bound. I’ll live with that.” I’ll live with it, no matter how it changes me, I add silently, a flutter of excitement stirring beneath the dread.

His eyes slide shut for a moment, as though waging an internal battle. Then he exhales, and his free hand lifts to cradle my jaw gently. The tether between us intensifies, humming with unspoken tension. I know we’re in a stable, that my friends lie just feet away, but the rest of the world feels far removed.

“Get some rest,” he repeats, voice softer now. “We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”

I nod, heart pounding. Our gazes lock one last time. An unspoken promise passes between us: We’ll face whatever comes, together. Despite the terror of surrendering my soul, I’ve never felt so alive. My blood churns with the memory of our shared kiss, the rush of demonic magic pulsing inside me.

Slowly, I step back, my hand slipping from his chest. He watches me with that same quiet intensity until I settle onto the straw pallet. Closing my eyes, I let exhaustion drag me down, even as the bond thrums beneath my skin. I sense Daeva’s presence lingering across the stable, standing sentinel in the half-light.

Before I plunge into a restless dream, I think of Amalia’s gentle smile, of Dirroth’s bestial power tempered by her hand, and of the horrors we’ve left behind. The road ahead is uncertain—dark elves, orcs, or more monstrous things may yet stalk us—but for the first time, I feel a spark of power in my veins. I’m no longer a helpless slave. I have a demon’s strength behind me… and within me.

In the hush of the outpost night, I press my palm against the spot over my racing heart, acutely aware that it doesn’t beat for me alone anymore. The contract’s seal resonates like an echo, binding my fate to Daeva’s. Whether it becomes a doom or a salvation, I can’t say. But as weariness claims me, my last waking thought is that I no longer face this world alone. And for all the danger and uncertainty, that knowledge warms me in ways I never thought possible.