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I peek from behind the column. Malphas stands in the fractured circle, his chest heaving.

Arcane fire flickers around him, but it doesn’t consume him.

His eyes are entirely black now, no red visible.

Shadows coil along his arms, forging living weapons that lash out at the chanting priests.

Screams echo as two of them crumple, their robes smoldering from demonic flame.

The leader screeches an incantation, slamming his staff onto the ground.

Another pulse of force surges toward Malphas.

He braces, black energy flaring as he meets the wave head-on.

For a heartbeat, they lock in a stalemate of clashing magic.

The floor quakes under the pressure. My stomach churns, and I duck lower, covering my head.

Cracks spiderweb across the ceiling. The entire chamber shudders as if about to collapse. Then Malphas roars again, and the priest’s staff explodes in a burst of greenish sparks. The shockwave hurls the robed leader across the room. He hits a pillar with a sickening thud and drops, unmoving.

I gape, breath caught in my throat. The rest of the priests scatter or lie unconscious among the rubble. The torches flicker violently, half extinguished. Thick dust clouds the chamber, making it hard to see.

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 and fierce. 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 witnessed the 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.