Page 59 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

My heartbeat lurches.My friends.At last, heavy footsteps, chains rattling. I strain my ears, desperate to hear their voices. Then a shuffle of movement, muffled curses. The door bangs open again, and the scraping of metal shackles echoes. My breath catches at a ragged cough that sounds like Silas. Another voice, maybe Cole, muttering in pain.

My chest tightens. “Let them go,” I plead, voice wavering.

Kaelith snorts. “That depends on your cooperation. We have big plans for the demon and his mortal tether. My master awaits the final ceremony. You’ll attend it.Willingly.Or watch these pitiful humans die.”

A spike of fury. Daeva’s aura flares. But we can’t lash out blindly. My friends are too vulnerable, and I can’t see, can’t fight effectively.We must be strategic.I grit my teeth.

Kaelith continues, languidly. “You see, the old master’s had… developments. He grows stronger, close to reclaiming his youth, so long as we secure the demon’s essence. Andyou, dear mortal—” I sense him looming close, breath rancid with arrogance “—are key to keeping him in check. The bond you share. So you’ll do exactly as we say.”

Daeva bristles, voice taut with barely contained rage. “Never.”

Kaelith laughs, a cruel, hollow sound. “You’ll have no choice, demon.” He snaps his fingers. “Guards. Take them to the antechamber. Keep them under watch. The ceremony is in two days, at dawn. That’s all the time my master needs to… finalize preparations.”

Two days. My pulse thunder. Panic churns.We’re trapped.The guards close in around us, cold armor scraping. I hear Silas let out a muffled protest as he’s dragged away, presumably toward the dungeons again. My heart fractures. I can’t even see him, but I know he’s alive.We must rescue them.Daeva’s grip on my arm shakes with equal rage.

We’re ushered from the hall, forced down corridors. I concentrate on each step, refusing to stumble. Daeva breathes heavily, his tension radiating. The chain rattles as they clamp manacles on him—nothing magical, just thick iron. My mind reels.They fear he’ll lash out.They do the same to me, though the metal is smaller, enough to bruise my wrists.Cattle for slaughter.I swallow a sob.

At length, we arrive in a smaller chamber, the guards shoving us inside. The door slams, a bolt sliding home. I hear them station themselves outside, vigilant. The room is musty, the air stale. I flinch as Daeva tugs free from me, testing the iron bars on a window or perhaps a gate.

“Locked,” he mutters, frustration grinding in his throat. “We’rewaitingfor them to conduct a ritual. Damn them.”

My entire body trembles. “They said two days.” My breath hitches. “That’s too soon. We’re not ready.”

Silence from him, thick with dread. I sink onto what feels like a stone bench, pressing my chained hands to my bandaged eyes. The memory of my friends’ pained coughs replays in my head.We have so little time to rescue them, to sabotage this ritual. And I can’t see, which means Daeva must carry the brunt of any plan.

He paces, metal links clinking. “We must find a way out,” he murmurs, half to himself. “Or get to your friends before they move them to the altar. But how? Our injuries… my power is limited. They’ve wards all over this place.”

I exhale, summoning the flickers of courage I felt at the waterfall. “We can’t give up. Maybe we can exploit the House’s arrogance. They assume we’re helpless, that we’ll just wait. Could we trick them?” My voice shakes, but I cling to a thread of hope.

A bitter laugh from him. “Possibly. We have to be cunning. But first, we must endure these two days. If we can gather enough strength…” He trails off.

My fingers curl into the coarse fabric of my tunic. Time—two days. That’s all we have to find cracks in Vaerathis’s fortress. Or else the old master will seal his immortality with Daeva’s life and my soul as collateral.I must glean more from these visions.The thought sends a chill through me. I recall how the mirror-shard illusions battered me with glimpses of Daeva’s past. Perhaps there’s knowledge of the ritual in them.

I push the idea aside for the moment. Daeva needs calm. “Daeva,” I say softly, reaching out. He stiffens, then sets his chained hand on mine, letting out a ragged sigh. “We’ll find a way,” I promise again, forging confidence from desperation.

He bows his head, pressing our foreheads together. “I hope you’re right,” he murmurs, voice cracked. “I can’t lose you. Not after everything.”

My heart clenches. “Nor I you.”

The hours blur. Guards deliver stale bread and water, ignoring our questions about my friends’ condition. Daeva tries to bully them for answers, but they refuse to speak. We’re left in the cramped antechamber, wrists bound by chains bolted tothe wall, forced to sit or pace in stifling silence. Occasionally, we doze fitfully, jolted awake by nightmares or the chill that seeps through stone walls.

On the second day—or what we guess is the second day—they come for us. I feel the clamp of hands on my arms, dragging me upright. Daeva roars a protest, but more guards pin him, forcing him along. We’re led—no,hauled—through labyrinthine corridors, the echo of distant chanting growing louder with each step. My stomach lurches. The ceremony is about to begin.

We reach a grand hall, so vast that my footsteps echo for seconds. My heart races at the memory of a prior battle I glimpsed in a vision.Perhaps this is the same place.The tang of incense and old blood scents the air. My bandaged eyes burn, tears of blood stinging anew as dread coils tight in my chest.

A hush falls over the assembled dark elves. I sense their presence like a suffocating weight—nobles, guards, and at the far edges, maybe silent observers. At the center, I hear the drip of water or a channel of some fluid, possibly from a ritual font. My head spins.Where are my friends?

Then Kaelith’s voice booms, mocking. “Welcome, demon, mortal. Our master has awaited you.”

Daeva snarls a curse. “Where are they? The humans you took?”

Laughter ripples in the chamber. A second voice, lower and rasping with age, answers: “Closer than you think.” My blood chills. This must be the old ancestor or someone channeling his will. “Fear not, they’ll witness the moment of my renewal.”

I brace, hearing metal gates clank open. Soft cries—my heart leaps.Silas, Cole, Ryn, Jenna?They must be shackled behind us, forced to watch. A jolt of relief that they’re alive, but heartbreak that they’re used as hostages.

Daeva’s aura flares with barely contained rage. “Release them,” he demands.

A snide chuckle from Kaelith. “In time, demon, once the ritual completes. We need them to ensure your cooperation.”

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