Page 11

I concede her point. My presence, towering at eight feet with horns and a broken wing membrane, is hardly inconspicuous.

“Then perhaps we go underground, literally. Vhoig has ancient tunnels from its earliest expansions—some are rumored to connect to older catacombs below the city’s temple district. ”

A flicker of fear crosses her gaze. “That’s dangerously close to the Thirteen’s domain,” she breathes. “Isn’t it?”

I shrug. “The Thirteen dwell far deeper, if they even exist at all. But yes, it’s not a place for the faint of heart.”

She lingers on the thought, then shakes her head. “I’ll do whatever keeps us alive.” A weary laugh escapes her. “As if I have a real choice.”

I arch a brow, leaning forward. “You do,” I say quietly. “You can run on your own. See how long you last.” The words carry a note of challenge.

Her jaw sets. “I’m not suicidal. If I go alone, they’ll capture me in a heartbeat.”

Her frank admission stirs a reluctant respect. “Good,” I say, leaning back against the wall. “I’d hate to have wasted my time saving you only to see you die in some back alley.”

She bows her head, tucking hair behind her ear. Silence falls between us. The faint drip of water echoes from somewhere in the structure.

My mind drifts to the memory of that accursed ritual chamber, how the contract’s magic sank its claws into my core, demanding obedience.

The fact that I resisted it this time baffles me.

Usually, it cripples me with excruciating agony if I go against the King’s explicit orders.

Perhaps it’s the swirling aura around Valentina that disrupted the summoning circle, giving me enough of an edge to break free.

I recall that moment when I touched her rope, severing it with a spark of dark flame. The sensation was reminiscent of anti-magic fields but…warmer, more alive. Something about her blood resonates with an older force. That alone could be crucial to unraveling my contract.

She notices my stare, her lips thinning. “What?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I’m trying to decide if you’re worth all this trouble.” It’s meant to sound flippant, but the underlying question gnaws at me.

She doesn’t shy away. “I can’t promise I have answers to whatever you sense in me,” she murmurs, voice tight with fatigue. “But I owe you my life, so if you want me to do something—like figure out how to free you from the elves—then I’ll try.”

A flicker of heat coils in my chest at her words. She’s openly offering to help me. I want to sneer—demons don’t need help, we take what we want. But I’ve been pinned under the King’s yoke for centuries. If there’s even a remote chance she’s a key to unlocking that yoke, then I’ll seize it.

I allow a soft exhale, glancing at my molten veins that pulse with an inner glow. “We’ll see,” I say. “For now, rest. We’ll move when the city settles, or when I sense an opening.”

She nods, sliding down until she’s half-reclining against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes drift closed, wariness etched into every muscle.

I keep watch, listening to the distant bustle of city guards combing the streets.

Occasionally, I hear them calling out orders or rattling weapons.

Each shout sends a prickle of tension through my horns.

Time crawls. My sense of day or night blurs.

The gloom of this hideout provides scant light, and the only measure of time is the slow drip of condensation from the cracked ceiling.

Valentina dozes fitfully, flinching at unseen nightmares.

I remain awake, scanning the entrance, letting my demon senses reach beyond these walls.

My body can endure days without sleep; my mind, however, churns with half-formed strategies and lingering questions.

Eventually, she stirs. A faint groan escapes her lips as she stretches. Cuts across her arms have reopened, leaving faint smears of blood on her tattered shirt. I shift, rummaging in a small pouch for a rag and a vial of disinfectant I pilfered ages ago.

“Here,” I say, handing them over.

She lifts an eyebrow but accepts, grimacing as she dabs at the wounds. “You’re surprisingly prepared for a demon,” she remarks, though her voice lacks malice.

I shrug one shoulder. “I’ve wandered these lands for centuries. I pick up a trick or two.”

She meets my gaze, brushing hair from her forehead. “Centuries… must be a lonely existence.”

The comment hits deeper than I expect. “Loneliness,” I echo, rolling the word on my tongue. “Demonkind doesn’t place much stock in companionship, not the way humans do. We exist in a hierarchy of power and survival.” But I don’t elaborate. She’s not my confidante.

Still, her eyes hold a flicker of empathy. “That’s what the elves want, too,” she says quietly. “To turn us into tools they can break whenever we step out of line.”

My lips pull back in a snarl of agreement. This city thrives on subjugation—of humans, orcs, and even rebellious demons. The contract is the best example of that. They may not have physically chained me, but the effect is the same.

I stand and roll my shoulders, checking the tension in my wings. “We’ve rested long enough,” I say. “Let’s see if the watch has calmed.”

She pushes to her feet. Though her limbs are unsteady, she steadies herself on the wall. “Right behind you.”

We edge outside, returning to the courtyard. The night sky stretches overhead, cloaked in clouds. A few hours must have passed, because the ambient glow from the magical orbs in the upper city has dimmed. The streets are quieter, though I hear distant patrols.

I lead her to a vantage point near a broken arch, where we can peer over the mid-tier streets. Soldiers still roam in small clusters, scanning corners with their arcane lamps. Yet the intensity of the manhunt seems to have lessened, as if they believe we might have fled the city entirely.

I mull our next move. The catacombs or the city outskirts seem equally dangerous right now.

Another thought niggles at me—the question of whether she truly possesses something in her blood that could sever my contract.

If so, how do I test it? The elves likely know more about it than they let on.

Perhaps that’s why they chose her for sacrifice in the first place—to eliminate a threat or to harness a dormant power.

She glances up at me. “You have that look again—like you’re wrestling with a dilemma.”

I snort softly. “I am. I’m trying to decide whether it’s worth risking a direct confrontation with the elves’ archivists or if we should keep running.”

Her brow furrows. “Confrontation? They’d have wards prepared, armies, maybe even another demon. You said so yourself.”

“I did,” I admit, letting a hint of bitterness seep into my tone. “But knowledge is power. If you truly carry something unique in your veins, we might need to find answers in the dark elves’ vaults or libraries. They keep extensive records, particularly on forbidden lineages.”

She pales slightly, though her chin lifts. “You think my lineage is forbidden?”

A hard laugh rattles my chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised. The dark elves despise anything that challenges their monopoly on magic. You might be an abomination in their eyes—or a threat to be exterminated.”

She exhales, trembling fingers brushing the edge of a bruise on her forearm. “Great. More reasons for them to hate me.”

I step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet my gaze.

“Hate from the elves is to be expected,” I growl quietly.

“But use that hate. Let it fuel you. Because if what I suspect is true, you might be able to break something they’ve kept unbreakable for centuries.

” I press a hand to my chest, where the invisible shackles of the contract lie.

Her eyes flicker with realization. She stares at my torso, where faint lines of molten crimson glow beneath my onyx skin. “You really think I could…?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, voice raw. “But I have no other leads.”

She falls silent. The night wind stirs, rustling debris across the courtyard. Tension coils between us, an unspoken alliance formed by desperation and shared enmity toward the elves. My tail twitches, betraying the restless surge of adrenaline.

“Then let’s find out,” she says at last, quiet but firm. “If my blood can do anything—break that contract—then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I study her face, searching for duplicity. I find only weariness and a fierce spark in her eyes. She’s lost nearly everything, but she’s not broken. A demon’s respect doesn’t come easily, yet she’s earned a sliver of it.

My nod is slight. “If that’s your choice, we’ll need to be smarter than the elves.

One misstep and we’re both dead. The archives are in the High District, near the Deceiver’s temple—heavily guarded, teeming with wards.

But there might be an archivist on the mid-tier who can be coerced or bribed. It’s risky.”

She raises her brows. “Any less risky than fighting your way into the High District?”

A short bark of dark amusement escapes me.

“No. Possibly more doable, though.” My eyes wander to the cityscape.

Dawn isn’t far off, the horizon faintly graying.

The morning shift of soldiers will soon replace the night patrols, and we should move before they reorganize.

“We can slip into the mid-tier marketplaces, blend with the crowds at first light.”

She half-laughs. “Blend? You’re eight feet tall with horns.”

I bare my teeth in a grin. “I have ways of masking my appearance if I must.” My Soz’garoth heritage grants me illusions, though they drain me over time, especially when the contract’s magic gnaws at my core.

She nods slowly, acceptance clear in her expression. “All right. I’m ready when you are.”

A lingering doubt tugs at me, I should kill her now.

End this liability. But that impulse withers before it fully forms. I can’t ignore the possibility she represents—the faint hope of severing these chains.

Even if she fails, I’d rather try and die on my own terms than spend another century as the elves’ puppet.

I reach out, placing my hand on her shoulder. My claws rest lightly against the torn fabric of her shirt. “We move at dawn,” I say, my voice low. “Until then, stay quiet and conserve your strength. We’ll find a vantage to watch the shift change.”

She exhales, shoulders slumping in relief. “I can do that.”

Together, we creep along the edges of the courtyard, seeking a hidden nook in the adjoining building that overlooks a broad avenue.

By the time we settle, the sky has lightened to a somber gray, revealing the silhouettes of spires in stark relief.

We keep to the shadows, pressed behind a fractured column that once supported a balcony.

From here, we can observe the city guards rotating at their posts, lanterns passed from one shift to the next.

I hunch down, letting my wings curve around my back.

Valentina leans against the wall to my left, arms hugging her knees.

A quiet descends, interrupted only by distant calls from the patrols.

My thoughts churn with the knowledge that I’ve stepped into a new reality—one where the King has reason to kill me outright, and where my only ally is a ragged human slave whose blood apparently defies reason.

I glance at her, noticing the rag she used to bandage her arm.

Tiny flecks of dried blood dot the cloth.

The faint coppery tang teases my heightened senses, reawakening the memory of that strange pull.

Something in her is more than mortal. And I will unravel that secret, even if it takes every last scrap of cunning I possess.

She catches my gaze and holds it, refusing to shrink away.

Neither of us speaks, but the shared understanding is clear.

We’re in this together, if only because there’s no other path that makes sense.

Outside, the first rays of sunlight pierce the smoky sky, rousing the city to another day of oppression and dread.

A muscle in my jaw twitches. I close my eyes, letting a rush of cold air wash over me.

I’m ready to fight for my freedom, no matter the cost. And in this moment, the human at my side might be the key to unlocking that possibility.

For what feels like ages, I feel something akin to cautious hope—and that, more than anything, sets my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

When dawn breaks fully, we’ll leave this hiding place and step onto the streets with every guard in Vhoig searching for us.

The contract might recoil against me, punishment waiting in the wings.

But I don’t care. Let the King rage. Let his armies gather.

If there’s any chance Valentina’s presence can shatter these chains, I’ll seize it with both claws and never let go.

I draw in a breath, ignoring the dull throb of the contract’s hold. My eyes drifts to the horizon where the black spires of the upper city slice the sky. Soon, I promise myself. Soon I’ll have my answers.

With that unspoken vow, I hunker down, prepared to wait out the final hours of darkness. There’s no turning back now. Whether this alliance dooms us or leads to freedom remains to be seen. But I will see it through, no matter the cost.