Page 57 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

“I’ve decided,” I say, voice trembling with intensity. “I’m going to destroy our contract—forcefully, if I must. I’ll cut my bond to that ancient tyrant. Even if it means burning in an inferno. Even if it means I’ll never reincarnate. I’ll do it.”

She stiffens. “But… the consequences. The ancestor is tied to you. If you die?—”

I hush her, pressing a finger to her lips. “I can’t keep letting you bear the cost of my curse. This has to end. The old elf wants to complete the ritual for immortality, but I’ll tear that tetherto pieces, with or without a ‘safe’ ritual. I’d rather face oblivion than watch you vanish.”

Her lip quivers. “But you— what if you vanish instead?”

“I’ve lived too long already,” I whisper, anguish clawing my throat. “You gave me a reason to keep going, but if it means you pay for my revenge… That I cannot bear.”

A tear of blood trails down her cheek. “We’ll find a way,” she insists, voice shaking. “But if you do this… let me help.”

I press my mouth to hers softly, longing to shield her from every horror. “You already are,” I murmur. “Your presence is my strength.”

She sniffles, nodding. “Then let’s face Vaerathis and carve our path in the tapestry you spoke of.”

I hold her close, the sunlight warming our backs. The water churns, a gentle lullaby. My heart hammers with the enormity of the vow I just made. I sense destiny swirling, and I pray that I can sever the chain binding me to that ancient fiend without dragging Calla to her doom.We’ll defy every law of magic and fate if we must.

We stay like that for a time, letting our breathing sync. She leans her head on my shoulder, and I rub soothing circles along her back, mindful of her wounds. The moment is painfully sweet—like the calm before a final tempest. I memorize the softness of her hair, the flutter of her heartbeat, the quiet determination in her posture.

At length, the sun climbs higher, the reality of our mission pressing in. We have limited days to recover, to gather what meager resources we can, then travel to Vaerathis to save her friends and confront the ritual. We can’t remain in this idyll forever.

I stand, helping her up. “We should head back,” I say gently, though I hate the idea of leaving this fleeting paradise. “We’ll need to prepare.”

She nods, letting me guide her away from the water’s edge. Her blindfold is damp from tears and spray. “Thank you,” she whispers, “for giving me a moment… to feel alive.” A shaky laugh escapes her. “Despite everything.”

I squeeze her hand. “Let’s find a way to hold onto that feeling, no matter what horrors come next.”

She leans into me, limping slightly, but resolute. We walk back through the pines, the forest punctuated by birdsong. My wounds burn with every step, yet a surprising lightness dwells in my chest.I love her, I think, the words both exhilarating and terrifying. Maybe that love can fuel my final stand against the House that shaped me into a demon.

We return to the hut, the door squeaking in protest as we enter. Dust motes swirl in the shaft of sunlight that penetrates the holes in the roof. Calla turns her bandaged face upward as if sensing the shift from bright forest to shadowy interior. Her expression flickers with nostalgia for that brief freedom by the water.

I guide her to a seat near the hearth, rummaging for something to feed the fire. My injuries scream for rest, but we have too little time. She sits quietly, one hand tracing the battered floor, perhaps recalling the fleeting serenity we just shared.

Then I kneel beside her, letting the flicker of flames cast dancing shadows. “We have days—less than five, likely—to ready ourselves,” I say. “We’ll gather what supplies we can. We’ll rest. I’ll hunt if possible, might try to find herbs to lessen your pain… and when we leave, we’ll have a plan. Not just to surrender to Vaerathis’s demands.”

She nods, bandaged eyes unwavering. “We’ll fight, side by side,” she answers. “Even if the cost is everything.”

A pang of pride and sorrow hits me.What a fearless soul she has.I rest my forehead against hers, inhaling the faint scent ofwater and blood. My vow burns hotter: I will break this contract or die trying, ensuring she walks free—even if my own future is ashes. She’s lost her eyes, but not her hope. My chest tightens with renewed resolve.

We settle against each other, discussing bits of strategy in hushed tones. She asks about positions in House Vaerathis, about old passages I might recall. My memories are a hazy swirl, but I share what little I know: possible lesser-guarded entrances, the layout of corridors, antechambers that once stored arcane relics. She listens intently, occasionally pressing me for details, her voice steady despite her injuries.

Night descends slowly, and the creeping dread of our confrontation grows. Outside, the wind rattles the forest. I stoke the fire, mindful of how many logs remain—just a few, pilfered from the dead pines out back. We must conserve them for warmth.At least tonight, we have each other’s presence.The memory of her lips, her soft moans by the waterfall, lingers in my mind. I cling to that intimacy like a shield against the storm that approaches.

She dozes off, head on my shoulder. I slip an arm around her, letting her rest. In her sleep, she whimpers sometimes, tears of blood seeping anew. My heart aches. I can’t do anything but hold her and vow to rid her of this agony.I’ll tear the House down. I’ll tear fate itself if I must.

Much later, when the fire has dwindled to embers, she stirs awake. I feel her trembling, sense the flicker of her fear through the bond. I whisper comfort, pressing a kiss to her temple. In the gloom, I hear her murmuring, half delirious, about the reflections that haunt her blind eyes—memories of a mirror, of an ancient sacrifice, of a future not yet written.

I tighten my hold, letting her know she’s not alone. “Sleep,” I urge. “I’m here.”

She settles, her breathing evening out. I remain watchful, ignoring my own weariness. My mind whirls with the decision I’ve already made: to forcibly break the contract. A thousand questions swirl—howto do it, what magic I must invoke, what final toll it might take on me.No matter.Calla comes first. She’s chosen me, trusted me with her last shred of faith. I refuse to let her demise be the price of my vengeance.

Eventually, exhaustion claims me, but the vow burns bright in my chest, a blade in the darkness. Tomorrow, we’ll prepare. We’ll plan. Then in five days, House Vaerathis will see that they can’t chain us anymore. Whether we all burn or we carve a new destiny, I hold Calla to me, letting the warmth of her body remind me of why this fight matters.

Outside, the wind carries the distant hush of water from the waterfall, as if echoing the memory of our stolen joy. It lulls me into a restless sleep, haunted by images of a final confrontation. But amid those nightmares, I find a sliver of hope, anchored by the quiet strength of the woman in my arms.We might be broken, but we choose each other—and that choice might just be enough to shake the foundations of fate.

15

CALLA

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