Page 49 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

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 asmidnight. 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 onhisterms. 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 theswirl 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.

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