39
I snatch the dagger from the well just before a cobra can strike me. Now running, the green creatures slither after me at a frightening speed. I scream as one drops down from the ceiling and lands in front of me. I turn around, then sprint in the other direction. There are too many of them.
They surround me. I turn and turn, but it’s hopeless. I can hardly breathe. I hold the key dagger with my limp, bandaged hand, which Lavian told me not to use in a fight because anyone’s blood could deactivate it.
Snakes block my path everywhere. As one gets closer, I push it away with my bag, but it’s useless.
They’ve surrounded me, their yellow eyes narrowing mockingly.
They don’t come any closer, keeping me in a circle.
I hear footsteps. Shuffling. Sylla’s black robe glides over the salty stones.
Her face is as always – smiling, yet not.
Pale as a statue, just like the demon remnants around her.
My lips tremble. It was her. She petrified the demons. And people. A gorgon.
I remember nearly turning to stone from the dark parts of my soul she showed me when we first met. I recall the blueberry-purple veins in my hand as I froze, unable to move. The thought dries my mouth. There’s nowhere to run.
The woman’s hair is made of blue snakes, with remaining black locks blending among the slippery creatures. A jade-green cobra slowly slides across her golden forehead, and before I can close my eyes, her gaze captures me.
I feel my body and soul breaking. Hatred tears me apart. My hand is stained with my mother’s blood, the other covered in dusty ashes. I see my father’s burning body.
“No…” Maya cries. I cry too. I move closer to my sister. I slit her throat. The red liquid splashes on my face. Her head tilts to an impossible angle.
Then the wounds close up. The cut on Maya’s neck seals. The dagger falls from my mother’s heart, my father’s ashes form a body. And I do it again. I kill them. Once. Twice. Dozens of times.
Each time, I lose a piece of my soul. Everything becomes blurry.
I can barely see.
I am like a robot.
I slash at my family.
I cry and kill.
My face burns with tears.
I scream and burn.
I don’t know what’s happening.
“Why am I punishing them?” I ask, trembling, as Nathan’s figure appears before me. I don’t kill him, or even hurt him.
“And why not you?”
The boy smiles.
“You like to be hurt. You like when they hurt you.”
I nod, then kill my father. It’s dark and cold. Getting colder. Something is draining the fire from my heart. I am just a body again. I want to kill myself. But I kill others. I look at the dagger. How easy it would be to plunge it into myself…
No one needs me. I need no one. No one loves me. I love no one.
It’s dark. I am disappearing. I press the knife to my heart.
Darya’s figure appears before me. His silver hair glistens wetly, his eyes stormy.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks, looking at me in confusion. He gestures around at the corpses.
“I thought you knew this is what you wanted.”
My eyes sting with tears.
“I don’t want to kill my family.”
“Liar!!!” Darya’s voice makes me press my hands to my ears as if it will burst my eardrums.
“What else are you guilty of, Lotte?”
I’m in front of him. I kiss him. Losing myself in his arms solves old nightmares. Another piece of my soul breaks off. Guilt burns like fire. Darya leans down, hugging me, whispering in my ear.
“Am I your darkest secret, my little champion?”
When I shake my head, the lie burns me. When I nod, I can breathe again. The Demon King strokes my face, gently pressing my lips with his thumb.
“This desire will never change,” he whispers.
Desire…
My eyes widen. Someone is missing from here. My brother. I forgave him. I forgave myself. My desire…
I close my eyes. Then I open them again, this time for real. I’m in another room, azure fog covering the ground, snakes hissing at my feet. Sylla…
Her bloody gaze pulls me back. The knife is once again in my hand, and my family are in front of me, waiting for me to finish them. No. I shouldn’t be here. I look at my dagger. My blue eyes reflect on its surface.
I breathe deeply and open my eyes again. I’m back in the snake-filled cave. My body is tense, and my legs already petrified from the curse creeping up. I’m holding my bag. The desires…
I can barely move, but my hand digs into my bag. My slow fingers find their target. A small, round object, but Sylla is very close to me.
“Let’s see what your soul’s darkest part is,” I hiss, holding up my compact mirror to Sylla.
Her eyes initially remain still, then slowly widen.
And then the darkness pulls me back again.
I can breathe; I’m free, but something is wrong.
The place is unfamiliar. I’m in a room. Everything is dimly dark, as if tar has scorched the place.
I hear crying behind me. I turn. I would draw my knife, but I only see a black-haired little girl.
She sobs at her bedside, hugging her knees.
Her pale skin is mottled with purple bruises.
A big man enters. The room flares with the smell of alcohol. He smiles at the girl. Unbuttons his pants.
“No!” I scream, running toward the girl. But I can’t save her. The man steps forward, grabs the girl, and my vision goes dark.
Once again, something throws me out. I feel the ache in my broken arm, the pounding in my head, and the difficulty of breathing.
I kick myself free from the crystallized rock around my legs, only to collapse immediately.
I vomit on the stalactite-laden ground. I can smell the pungent odor of my father’s burned body and taste the frozen tang of my sister’s blood on the tip of my tongue. The little girl… that man… her…
Tears stream down my face as I turn my head. Sylla lies on the ground. That’s why Darya gave her the eye – to keep everyone away. She finishes them off before they can touch her.
Sylla’s form starts turning to stone. She doesn’t deserve this. I rush to her side, crouching by her head, but I don’t touch her. She’s gasping for air. Her arm has already turned to stone. Her dark eyes are veined with red.
“Leave her,” I hear. I snap my head up. A pale green snake hisses beside me. “Run, leave her! Isn’t that what you want?”
My hand trembles as I grip the dagger. Everything is so foggy. Am I still dreaming? Is a snake really talking to me? But it’s right. I already have the key; I just need to find an angel. “She deserves it,” the snake hisses.
I lift the dagger above Sylla. And then something hits me as I piece together my memories.
Darya gave Sylla the eye to keep everyone away.
She would never be harmed, never be touched…
Darya saved Léthé from slave traders, giving her such power that now she’s stronger than men.
Darya provided a place for Nárs to exist in a world where no one judges him.
He gave Lizander a home. The Demon King gave Kripot a body so he could have a life.
Darya’s messed-up self showed mercy to souls society had cast out. He took me in, too.
The snake beside me hisses, urging me to kill Sylla. I shake my head. I don’t look at the creature, only at Sylla’s stretched-out form. I extend my hand and, in one swift motion, cut off the snake’s head.
“No,” I say to the dead animal, placing the key dagger into my bag. I keep the other bloodstained blade close. “She doesn’t deserve it.”
With that, I run away from Sylla. I sprint out through the tunnel, to where I entered.
My heart pounds with the recent realization.
Darya’s world is a haven for those who have no other place to call home.
But he is a monster, a liar, a demon who kills people.
A manipulative jerk whose every word is half-truth. Someone I don’t know at all.
Nothing is truly black or white. But how can one choose the right thing in such a world? Does the right thing even exist?
My uncertain thoughts are drowned out by the demons’ cries.
I don’t have time to focus on this. The sounds of battle reverberate through the walls again, weapons clashing in the distance.
As I reach a section covered in vines, my heart skips a beat.
Lavian and another dark-skinned angel – the one who was with Lavian when Mathys was killed – are fighting Nárs, who remains unharmed.
I let out a sigh of relief, glad to see him alive too.
“Nárs!” I shout, running toward them. All three stare at me. Their skins are covered in blood.
“I offer a deal!”
Lavian is shocked. “Lotte, what the…”
I silence him with a gesture, then refocus on Nárs. “Sylla is dying in her cave! You can still save her. We’ll let you go if you let us go.”
Nárs’s lips curl in anger, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Why would that be good for me, Flower? I’ll kill you all and then thaw her.”
I slowly step in front of the two angels as if I’m protecting them.
“First,” I begin mockingly, knowing I need to be quick, “it would take some time for you to finish us off. By then, Sylla would be dead. Imagine how weakened Darya’s team would become!
I could have killed Sylla, but I didn’t.
Secondly,” I add, my lips curling into a faint smile, “no one can break your soul like she can.”
Nárs glares at me menacingly.
“You have less than a minute,” I urge him.
The demon hisses, retracting his vines into the ground, and steps back. I sigh deeply.
But too soon, new vines burst from the ground, catching all three of us off guard, pinning us to the wall. The demon hisses with bloody teeth, more unhinged than ever. “Maybe I can manage my time better, after all.”
He lunges at me, but I am ready. As he sees the gray-glowing object at my neck, he stops. For the first time, I see real fear in Nárs’s eyes.
“Do you know what this is, Nárs?” I hiss at him angrily. The demon snarls.
I nod and laugh. “That’s right. I have it.
The key to Hell and Heaven’s gates is with me, and you know it becomes useless if blood stains the blade, even if it’s mine.
And I’ve already killed myself once. Do you think I wouldn’t do so again?
” I hiss through clenched teeth, pushing the dagger closer to my neck.
All three men shout at once.
“No!”
“Lotte!”
“Stop!”
The demon releases his vines from us, but I don’t move the blade from my neck. He snarls at me.
“Nárs,” I begin calmly, “Sylla is still alive, but not for long. Save her!”
My voice pleads, and Nárs raises an eyebrow. His face twists with the familiar madness, his smile chilling.
“I am so proud of you, Lily Girl!” He claps once, then spreads his wings and flies away.
I lower my arm, trembling, barely having any strength left. Lavian is immediately by my side. His expression is serious.
“Put the dagger in your bag!” he commands. After I comply, he lifts me into his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder.
“Lavian?” I whisper.
“Yes?” he asks, looking at me hesitantly.
“Please, get me out of here!”
The angel’s gaze softens, then turns serious again. He spreads his bloody wings and we fly up.
“I’m on it,” he says, and we soar away. An angel holds me in his arms.