Page 35 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

Calla’s lips part, grief shining in her eyes. “We don’t have time,” she whispers, though her heart aches. I feel it like a twisting knife in my gut, echoing through our bond.I’ve made her break their hearts for me.

Without another word, I turn, cloak swirling, and push the door open. The last rays of sunlight streak across the threshold. Calla follows, footsteps hesitant but resolute. Silas lifts his head at the sound, tears bright in his eyes. He doesn’t move to stop her this time. Instead, heartbreak etches his features as he chokes out her name: “Calla…”

She pauses, tears slipping down her cheeks, but then steels herself. “Goodbye,” she whispers, voice cracking.

I step out, letting the door swing shut behind us with a hollow thud.

Night falls swiftly as we leave the settlement behind. Torches flicker along the palisade, but we slip into the darkness unchallenged, no guard stopping us. Perhaps the watchmen are too occupied or too afraid to question me. The road leading out is little more than a faint dirt track, winding into the wilderness of Protheka. My cloak billows around my legs, and Calla walks a pace behind me, arms wrapped around herself.

I sense her turmoil. My own emotions churn violently—anger, regret, a searing guilt for how this parted her from friends who cared for her. Yet there’s also a fierce possessiveness, an irrational need to keep her close, to ensure no one else tries to claim or kill her.

After a time, the path curves, and we find ourselves trudging across a rolling expanse of grass beneath a moonless sky. Stars scatter overhead like shards of broken glass. The wind gusts, carrying the distant cry of nocturnal beasts. I sense the tension in my shoulders, and I know Calla feels it too. We share a bond. My anger might spill into her mind if I’m not careful.

She lifts her voice into the quiet. “Where are we going?”

I keep my eyes forward, unable to face her just yet. “Away,” I say curtly. “I can’t… remain in one place. We have to keep moving.”

“Daeva,” she persists, “you said you’d look for a way to free me from the contract. Is that where we’re headed?”

I exhale shakily, bitterness creeping in. “Yes. There might be hidden knowledge in the old ruins scattered across Protheka, or among certain wanderers who dabble in forbidden magic. I can’t promise anything, but I… must try.”

Silence. I sense her pulse quicken. “But what if I don’t want to be free?” she asks softly.

That simple question slices me raw. My steps falter, rage flaring unexpectedly.How can she say that? She should want her freedom above all else. I’m a demon, for the gods’ sake.I spin on her, eyes flashing with residual fury.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” I snap, voice echoing across the grassland. “You’re a mortal. This contract will ruin you. I can’t—” My words hitch, because part of me loathes the idea of letting her go. Yet I press on, spitting the words. “I can’t watch you waste your life chained to a demon. I won’t be around forever, and if you rely on me, you’ll die soon enough or lose your humanity entirely.”

She reels, shock etched on her face. “But?—”

“You’re weak,” I bite out, the old cruelty of demonic nature rising unbidden. “Fragile. A fleeting spark. I can’t hold your hand through every storm.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Her face pales, eyes brimming with hurt. A dagger of self-loathing twists in my gut.

At once, I see how I’ve wounded her. My chest constricts. She’s not weak—she’s brave and resilient. She overcame slavery, faced orcs and waira, sacrificed everything to save her friends. Even now, she fights for the right to stand at my side.

But my fear is uncontrollable.If my ancient enemy resurfaces, she’ll be a target. She’ll suffer, or worse.I can’t let that happen. Yet I can’t bury that fear enough to speak calmly.

Calla’s lips tremble. “I thought…” She looks away, tears gathering. “I thought this contract bound us. That we were in this together.”

The anguish in her voice scalds me. I’m trembling with a fury I can’t fully articulate. “We are,” I grind out. “But it’s a mistake. A demon’s bond kills everything it touches.”

She flinches. I hear her breath hitch, and the bond between us resonates with her despair. I want to comfort her, to gather her close, but my thoughts are a tangled snarl of guilt, longing, and an unspoken terror of letting her see the darkest corners of my existence.I can’t let her know about my immortal foe, about the curse that might crush us both.

“I’m sorry,” I force out, forcing my hands to relax instead of balling into fists. “I… I didn’t mean?—”

Her face crumples, and she turns away from me. “No,” she whispers, hugging herself. “You did mean it.”

Shame claws at me. I step forward, but she takes a step back. My mouth opens, desperate for the right words, but nothing comes. The tension in my own chest is too thick. My anger, frustration, and protective instincts tear at my sanity. The contract tugs us together, but I can’t reconcile how much I might endanger her.

With a growl of self-directed fury, I spin on my heel, striding away several paces. “I need… a moment,” I say, voice shaking. The bond thrums as I distance myself physically. Calla’s heartbreak slams into me, a dull ache. Each step tears at me, but I can’t remain so close or I’ll unravel further.

The grass swishes around my boots. Farther away from her, I can almost breathe. The night wind slaps against my cloak, as if scolding me. I stare at the dark horizon, shoulders tense. I can stillfeelher behind me, the faint warmth of her soul, the raw hurt in her chest that echoes my own regret.

I rake a hand through my white hair, cursing softly under my breath. How did I become this monster that snaps at every perceived vulnerability? It’s not what I wanted. Once, I was human—before betrayal turned me into something else. I still carry that memory like a festering wound. And now I’ve forced Calla into a bond that might end the same way.

I close my eyes, anger at myself roiling.She deserves better.The sting of that realization is almost unbearable. She gave me her soul, trusting I’d keep her safe. Instead, I spit venom because I’m terrified. Terrified of losing her, or destroying her by letting her stay. Terrified of repeating the cycle of pain my centuries have inflicted on anyone close to me.

The hush stretches. I try to calm the raging sea inside my head, listening to the night calls of distant creatures. After a long, ragged moment, I force a low exhale. I must apologize properly. Must try to explain, at least in some small way, that her presence stirs up a tempest of emotions I can barely contain. That the thought of losing her or seeing her harmed by my old foe—someone so dangerous even I fear them—keeps me on edge constantly. But I can’t reveal that enemy’s identity yet, not without endangering her further.

Steeling myself, I start to turn back toward Calla, prepared to kneel at her feet if that’s what it takes for her to forgive me. But I hesitate, uncertain if my presence will only worsen the raw wound I’ve inflicted. My fingertips tremble, hungry for her forgiveness, for the balm of her voice.She might push me away.And if she does… I deserve it.

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