Chapter 46
CHAD
We burst from the trees, demon power surging through our veins. I could feel the clearbloods’ fear spike as they sensed us—two demons charging their position.
But before I could reach the first soldier, something slammed into me from the side.
It was like hitting an invisible wall of pure spiritual force.
I was thrown backward, crashing into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk.
Behemoth roared as he met the same resistance, his massive body skidding across the ground.
Darkbloods poured from the trees—dozens of them, eyes swirling with those inky Ide shadows. They moved with unnatural coordination, forming a barrier between us and the clearbloods. Their magic weaved together into a shield pulsing with ancient power.
“Stand down, demon,” one of them commanded, her voice layered with something older, deeper. “This is not your battle.”
I snarled, lunging at the barrier again. My claws sparked against it, but the shield held. Each time I struck, the energy rebounded, jarring through my bones. Behemoth slammed his full weight against it, and the ground trembled, but still the barrier stood firm.
“Pathetic,” Behemoth growled, frustration beneath his anger. “Even I cannot break this.”
The darkbloods then switched their attention to the clearbloods who were retreating toward the graveyard.
They deliberately cut us off.
Stopped us from protecting their own coven from their worst enemy.
“Up there,” I growled to Behemoth, gesturing to a towering oak at the forest edge. “We need vantage.”
We scaled the massive tree with our inhuman speed, finding a perch high in its branches that gave me a glimpse of the graveyard. From here, I could see the table set in its center, and the figures gathered around it.
Brynn was there. My heart lurched at the sight of her, sitting next to her mother, looking tense but unharmed.
Then my gaze found the tall figure in dark robes who rose from his seat as the clearbloods approached. And in barely the space of a few heartbeats, the army was simply… obliterated. Ash.
It was as effortless and natural as breathing for him.
I’ve never seen that level of power. He’s an Ide, I could be sure of that much. His cold, unstoppable brutality sent a chill snaking through me. Is that Dominic?
“Interesting,” Behemoth murmured beside me, genuine curiosity but also an unmistakable hint of caution in his voice. “The Ides possess power I haven’t seen in… a long time.”
I couldn’t respond. I was too busy processing what I’d just witnessed—and then the way that man of shadows returned to his seat like he’d finished a light breakfast.
I felt the bond with Brynn pulse again—relief, confusion, fear all mingled together. She’s safe, at least for now. Though I couldn’t help but wonder at what cost?
“They’re playing a dangerous game,” I muttered, watching as the darkbloods who blocked us move toward the graveyard. “I’m not sure if this is even just about protection anymore.”
Behemoth nodded, his eyes fixed on the Ide. “The balance shifts... The Ides awaken, and with them, powers long buried.”
We climbed down from the tree, landing on the forest floor.
My mind still raced. The Ides are more than passengers.
What their end goal is exactly, I still don’t know.
But my every instinct—demonic or otherwise—was screaming that they’re something too volatile to trust. And Brynn is in the middle of it all.
I was considering our next move when a roar split the air. I turned just in time to see a massive figure lunging toward me through the trees—Rogon, the dragon, his face contorted with pure rage.
“Murderer!” he snarled, and a searing blast of draconic fire erupted from his hands.
I threw myself sideways, rolling behind a tree as the fire scorched the ground where I stood. The heat licked at my skin, but didn’t touch me.
“Colonel, stop!” Nyssa’s voice cut through the air as she and Byzu burst through the trees behind him.
I rose to my feet, my demon side surging forward in response to the attack. “I have no quarrel with you, dragon,” I growled, though I was ready to defend myself if he struck again.
Rogon ignored me, gathering another blast of fire in his palms. “You killed my daughter! My niece! You think I wouldn’t learn the truth?”
“Colonel, that’s enough!” Nyssa placed herself between us, her hands raised in a desperate, placating gesture. “We have an alliance. We need to—”
“Alliance?” Rogon spat the word like poison. “With the beast who slaughtered my family? Never!”
Behemoth stepped forward, his massive form swelling with power. “Careful, lizard. I’ve consumed your kind before.”
“Stop!” Nyssa turned to me, her silver hair flying as she moved between us. “Chad, I’m sorry. He asked about his daughter and niece, about what happened to them on their mission. In the academy. I... I couldn’t lie, couldn’t keep the truth from him anymore.”
Remembrance dawned. The female dragon I killed during the raid—she was Rogon’s daughter. The other one, his niece.
“I didn’t know,” I said. “But they were trying to attack people I care about. If they hadn’t been aggressors, I’d have had no reason to touch them.”
“My Raelle was barely grown,” Rogon said, his voice deadly quiet. “She had her whole life ahead of her.”
Byzu moved to Rogon’s side, gripping his arm. “This isn’t the time, old friend. We need to survive first.”
Rogon’s chest heaved with emotion, but he allowed Byzu to pull him back, his eyes never leaving mine. “This isn’t over, demon. Not by a long shot.”
Nyssa gave me an apologetic look before following them, and I watched as they disappeared into the trees.
So much for our temporary alliance.
I exhaled heavily, running a hand through my hair. “That could have gone better.”
Behemoth chuckled. “Dragon grudges last for centuries. You’ve made an enemy today, Baal-liah.”
“I didn’t exactly choose to kill them,” I muttered, turning away. I exhaled deeply. “I need to think.”
I strode a while through the forest, Behemoth following at a distance. Both of us were alert, watching. But my thoughts were—and still are—a tangled mess: Brynn’s safety, the Ides’ power, Rogon’s flip-out, and now this strange bond connecting me to Brynn that sporadically pulses with her emotions.
We reach the coven’s boundary, and I step through the shimmering barrier, feeling the magical pressure release as we pass into neutral territory. It still recognizes me for some reason. Still allows me to enter and depart along with a guest.
The open field beyond gives me space to breathe, to think. I switch back to my human form, hoping it’ll help me do that better.
“What are you planning?” Behemoth asks.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, flexing my normal fingers with a wince. “Just that I don’t trust the Ides. They’re playing games with people’s lives, apparently on both sides of the war.”
Behemoth tilts his head, considering me with those molten, unreadable eyes.
“Perhaps,” he says slowly, “it is time we brought our own forces into play.”
A bad feeling settles immediately in my gut.
I turn to him sharply. “What do you mean?”
“Demons,” he says simply. “The Ides awaken. Dragons and clearbloods plot. Why should the demons sit idle? Balance requires all players to be active.”
I stare at him. “You want to bring demons here? To Darkbirch?”
“To the world,” he corrects. “The demon realm has been quiet for too long. It’s time we reminded everyone of our presence.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” I say immediately. “Demons would just make everything worse.”
“Worse for whom?” he asks, stepping closer. “For the Ides? For the clearbloods who would gladly cage you? For the dragons who would burn you? For the darkbloods who would cast you aside the moment you become inconvenient?”
I grit my teeth. “That’s not the point.”
“No,” he says. “It is exactly the point.”
The night air feels heavier suddenly, the forest too quiet around us.
Behemoth folds his arms, his massive frame almost unnaturally still. “Balance is never maintained by absence, Chad. It is maintained by pressure. Counterweight. If one force rises unchecked, the others must answer.”
My thoughts drag unwillingly back to the graveyard. To that dark mage. To the way he erased an army like brushing dust from a sleeve.
To Brynn sitting there in the middle of it all. Safe. For now.
I exhale sharply. “You think the Ides are going to turn.”
“I think power always turns,” Behemoth says.
“The question is only when.” His voice lowers.
“Your ‘Brynn’ is protected now because their interests align. But what happens if—or when—they no longer do? What happens if the Ides decide they want more than cooperation? More than hosts? More than alliance?”
The thought hits harder than I want it to. Brynn, trapped inside that. Brynn, trusting people who may already be planning ten moves ahead of everyone else.
I hate that I can’t dismiss it.
Behemoth watches me, seeing too much.
“If you are so determined to argue against demons entering the board,” he says, “perhaps you should first see the board properly.”
I frown. “Meaning?”
“The demon kingdom.”
I let out a short laugh. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
His expression doesn’t shift. “You judge a realm you have never seen. You reject blood you have never understood. You call demons monsters while standing half-made of the same fire.”
I step closer, irritation flaring. “I call demons monsters because I’ve met demons.”
“Poor sample size.”
Despite myself, I almost snort.
“There are demons in Darkbirch too. Incubi, and some others…” I mutter.
“By ‘others’ you mean imps and bogarts? I’m not talking about domesticated pets.” Behemoth’s voice turns quieter. “This is your heritage, Baal-liah. Your birthright. You have spent your life treating that as a curse because others told you it was one. Perhaps it is time you looked for yourself.”
I run a hand through my hair, pacing a few steps.
The dragons are barely tolerating me. Rogon would like to set me on fire personally. The Ides are building an empire whose seat of control is questionable. Brynn is caught in the middle of all of it.
I stop.
“If I stay here, what exactly am I accomplishing?” I mutter. I’m thinking to myself, but somehow it comes out aloud. “Two demons against whatever the hell this Ide power is?”
Behemoth says nothing. Because he doesn’t have to. The answer is obvious: nothing.
I hate that.
I hate even more that part of me is curious. About the demon kingdom. About what I am when I stop pretending half of me doesn’t exist. About whether there’s something there I actually need.
I look back toward the shimmer of Darkbirch’s barrier. Brynn is somewhere beyond it. Still close. I can feel the occasional pulse of that strange bond between us—faint, restless, alive. I haven’t mastered it.
I should stay. I should be here.
But staying without power is just another version of helplessness. And I am getting very tired of being helpless.
Finally, I let out a breath. “Fine.”
Behemoth smiles, slow and sharp.
I point at him. “Don’t enjoy that.”
“I am absolutely enjoying that.”
“This is reconnaissance,” I say firmly. “Information. Nothing more. I have not agreed to anything else.”
“Of course,” he says, with the kind of sincerity that makes me trust him even less. “Just an informational tour.”
Liar, I can’t help but think.
Still, I nod once. Because whether this is a mistake or not, standing still feels worse.
Behemoth lifts one hand and begins tracing symbols into the air—old infernal script burning red-orange against the atmosphere. The symbols twist and fold into each other, reality splitting open with a low, sickening sound.
A demon path.
Heat rolls out first. Dry. Violent. Ancient.
And I stare at it, my stomach twisting.
This is insane. Absolutely, unquestionably insane.
But then again, so is everything else.
I cast one last look back toward Darkbirch. Toward Brynn. Toward the impossible mess waiting for me there.
“I’ll come back,” I say quietly, both to Brynn and to myself.
The bond pulses once, like an answer.
And then I step forward toward the heat. Toward the fire. Toward the part of myself I’ve spent years trying not to become.