Page 52 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

His breath hitches. “How?—?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, voice shaking. “I think… the mirror shards in my eyes… they’re making me see fragments of your past.” I can hardly form the words, still trembling from the horror of that ceremony.

Daeva’s arms wrap around me, surprisingly gentle. “You shouldn’t have to bear that,” he murmurs, voice thick. “My memories… they’re curses unto themselves.”

I lean into him, seeking a moment’s solace in his warmth.He’s gone through so much.I exhale shakily. “It’s not just a memory, though,” I manage to say. “It felt like I was…there. Like I hold a piece of that mirror, letting me see your life as if it’s my own.”

He sighs, guilt radiating from him. “I’m sorry.”

I swallow, forcing back the tears. “We’ll figure it out.”

Before we can delve deeper, a sudden chill prickles my skin. The door creaks. My heart leaps in alarm—who else could be here? I push off Daeva, mustering a tense readiness.We can’t handle another battle.

A calm voice resonates from the threshold. “I bring news. No quarrel, unless you force it.”

A dark elf. I hear Daeva snarl, rising to confront this intruder. My pulse pounds as the newcomer steps inside, boots scraping the floor, carrying an air of smug confidence.

“Speak fast,” Daeva growls, venom in every syllable.

The elf chuckles, unperturbed. “I’m but a messenger. My mistress sends word: You are expected at House Vaerathis in five days, demon. Bring your mortal pet.”

My heart drops.Vaerathis… they found us.I shift, struggling to stand, but Daeva’s hand steadies me, his grip firm.

The messenger’s tone drips condescension. “If you do not appear, your dear friends—Silas, Cole, Ryn, and Jenna, I believe—will be executed. Painfully.” He chuckles. “We have them in our dungeons, ready to serve as leverage.”

I clench my fists, rage surging.They have my friends?A wave of helpless fury coils around my soul, mirrored by the tense stillness in Daeva.

He speaks, words clipped: “You dare threaten us, worm?”

The elf snorts. “I come bearing a benevolent offer, if you can call it that. Return, let the House complete its ritual, or watch your allies die. The choice is yours.”

Silence. My pulse thunders.Ritual… so they do intend to harness Daeva again, using me as the tether.My friends are hostages in a monstrous negotiation.We can’t ignore this. We can’t run.

Daeva’s voice wavers with anger. “Leave,” he orders, though a tremor betrays how close he is to snapping.

A sneer laces the messenger’s voice. “Of course. My mistress expects your presence at Vaerathis. Five days, no more.”

I sense the elf turning to depart, but he halts mid-step. “Though, if you’re wise, demon, you should surrender. Or perhaps you’d rather see your mortal lover suffer. After all, we both know that if the old master dies, you die—and so might she.”

That’s the final straw. Daeva lunges with a guttural snarl. There’s a harsh clang, a brief scuffle of limbs. I cry out, lurching forward blindly. Metal hits flesh with a sickening squelch. The messenger’s scream chokes off, replaced by wet gurgling.

Then silence. A body thuds to the floor. Hot blood seeps into the old wood, the smell nauseating. My hand covers my mouth as I stifle a sob.Killing the messenger…

“Daeva!” I rasp. “What?—?”

He pants, voice trembling with unspent fury. “I won’t let them toy with us.”

I swallow hard, tears squeezing past the bandages. “But now they’ll send more, and they might harm my friends anyway.”

His anger crackles, then ebbs into despair. “I’m sorry,” he manages, pained. “I couldn’t… that elf threatened you again.”

Weariness drapes over me like a lead blanket. I sink to the floor, trembling.We’re in no condition to outrun Vaerathis. If we do, our friends die. If we go, the House might complete the ritual, killing me and Daeva.My breath shakes. “We can’t run away anymore,” I whisper. “We have to face them.”

He kneels beside me, voice low, anguished. “I’m tired, Calla. Tired of fighting a war that started centuries ago. But if the ritual is completed, you might cease to exist. If the ancient elf is slain, I die, dragging you with me. I… I don’t know how to protect you from every outcome.”

A wave of helplessness courses through me.He’s cornered by the threads of destiny.My lips tremble. Memories of that sacrificial vision swirl, the hum of old magic in my blood. Something stirs—a faint echo of the mirror’s voice, or the darkness behind my eyes. I speak words I barely comprehend, a cryptic truth welling up from the depths of my newfound ability:

“Fate isn’t a blade that cuts only one way,” I murmur, voice distant. “Nor is magic a chain we can’t break. It’s an ocean—fluid, shifting, shaped by every drop of will we pour into it. You were cast into its depths centuries ago, and I followed you in. Now we’re submerged together. We might drown, or we might find a current to carry us somewhere neither of us expected.”

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