Chapter 28
CHAPTER
My heart slammed against my ribs as I ran, fear crawling up my throat.
“Keep going!” his voice shouted behind me.
Why was I dreaming about this? The day that Lionel and I had stolen a whole loaf of bread and gotten caught. We had only eaten soup for a week at his parent’s house, all of us starving, slowly thinning away.
I stumbled, almost falling before a hand clutched around my arm, forcing me up again.
“Don’t look back!” Lionel ordered, right before I heard a heavy thud.
I kept running.
As I was about to round the corner of a building I glanced back to see that they had Lionel pressed against the dirt.
They had caught him.
Something flickered inside of me, a heat spreading faster than my heart pumping blood. I could save him, but then he’d know what I was. They would all know
As if hearing me hesitate, I saw his head tilt up, mouthing ‘RUN’ through his teeth. The man who held him slowly looked up and saw me.
“Hey, you!” he barked. “Stay right there!”
I clenched my teeth, but I ran.
A coward.
A nuisance.
I ran as fast as I could to Lionel’s parents, and his father immediately took matters into his own hands to go and get Lionel back. They weren’t mad at us, not really, they knew we did it out of the goodness in our hearts… But they feared that our actions would tarnish our future.
Lionel’s mother soothed me as I cried over my uselessness, for lacking in strength, for not being able to save him.
Once Lionel and his father returned, Lionel was covered in bruises… And yet, he smiled, holding up the loaf of bread.
I woke to the feeling of something being off before I even opened my eyes.
The room was too quiet and the air too heavy.
When I moved, something pulled tight around my wrists.
Chains, cold steel that weighed heavily.
My pulse jumped, I didn’t remember falling asleep. I didn’t remember—
“Well, well,” a voice sang. “The little flame finally cooled.”
Iris.
Her laughter was sugar sweet, yet there was no warmth in it.
She stood near the foot of the bed, purple hair framing her perfectly structured face.
Her violet eyes were glowing now, her demon side finally creeping through.
Beside her was another demon; tall, broad shouldered, his skin dark with a bronze shimmer and eyes like liquid amber.
The way he watched me made my stomach twist.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, my voice raw.
Iris smiled wider. “The King said no marking, not no fun. Don’t worry, flame, we’re only here to… get to know you a little, test your patience, right Dirthraz?”
Dirthraz, moved closer. He said nothing, only studying me like a craftsman judging the tension of a wire before it breaks. His presence was worse than hers. Quiet, detached, like he lacked interest and goal, and he stank of blood as if he had bathed in it.
Iris leaned against the bed frame, eyes digging into me, her words like claws just beneath the skin.
“He must be something special, that half-breed who touched you. You still reek of him.”
My eyes slid to hers, hatred burning through me enough to ignite my shoulders, like a mantle of fire. Dirthraz noticed, his eyes locking in on it as he reached and—
I screamed.
His claws pierced through my shoulder as if trying to sever the flames from me. It only made me burn brighter, fire rising untamed above me, scorching against his hand. But he didn’t move, like he felt nothing.
“Interesting,” Dirthraz said, but his voice was the only thing changing, his expression remained bored.
“I wonder if the half-demon would still want you if he saw you now,” Iris continued taunting me, grinning wickedly next to Dirthraz.
“It seems her emotions are entwined with her flames,” he said, his voice flat but the way his eyes began to glow made it obvious he was intrigued, as he took a few steps back.
“Who cares?” Iris snorted, stroking two fingers across my cheek. “I’m here for your screams, not to understand you. Your screams tell me more than your words after all.”
My flames roared, devouring her hand in an instant. She pulled it back quickly, a fracture of a doubt crossing her face before she smiled again. “Feisty one. Tell me, do you think the half-breed will fight a King for you?” She tilted her head at me.
Each question landed like a spark next to a fuse. My power stirred, the fire whispering beneath my ribs, it wanted to consume them.
But I held back, breathing and waiting, making the flames calm down somewhat. But they continued caressing along my skin, a promise of protection.
Iris trailed a clawed fingertip up my arm, until she reached where Dirthraz had struck me. She brushed off blood that trickled down and licked it off her finger. I refused to show any reaction. That, at least, was mine to keep.
Zinlia’s voice echoed faintly in my memory, ‘she feeds on reaction’.
So I gave her none.
“Hmm, how can something be so utterly sweet and spicy at the same time?” she mused.
“You’re not supposed to taste,” Dirthraz reminded her blankly.
Iris glared at him. In a swift movement she swung her hand towards my thigh, claws extending from her nails into black thorns that pierced into my flesh.
I hissed, biting my lower lip hard to avoid letting her have my emotions, my pain.
Dark shadows, with a purple hue encircled her hand infusing her power into my wound. The pain multiplied, becoming unbearable as my thigh tensed and I screamed before I managed to muffle it. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I denied them as well.
Iris’ grin widened, becoming unnatural even for her own face, it was too wide, like something from a nightmare.
She quickly withdrew, causing her claws to rip even more skin from my flesh and she panted with excitement as her eyes registered every struggle I let slip.
“Shit… I might grow to like playing with you,” she sneered.
Blood poured out of the wound and I struggled against the chains.
Dirthraz’s eyes flicked towards her. “He’ll notice if we linger.”
Iris pouted, but even she wasn’t foolish enough to disobey.
“Fine. But we’ll play again, little flame.”
Dirthraz unlocked the chains and when I tried to lunge at him. He sent his curled hand into my stomach, knocking me back to the bed, as all air left my lungs.
They didn’t waste time, checking on me, leaving quickly and slammed the door behind them.
I let my fires simmer to clean the wounds, the shoulder became bearable again but my thigh… Something was wrong.
It wouldn’t heal properly, the blood stopped pouring, but the area around it turned dark. I felt dizzy, stretching for some of the bed silks and ripping them to shreds to tie firmly over the wound in an attempt to wrap it.
What kind of magic had she been using? Neither the Demon King nor hers were elemental magic… just like Malakai’s wasn’t.
For a long time, I didn’t move. I sat on the edge of the bed and focused my all on simply breathing.
My body ached, but my mind, was sharper than ever.
I exhaled once, steady.
They wanted a frightened girl, wanted cracks in my resolve.
I would give them nothing of the sort.
The door creaked open long after the echoes of their laughter had faded.
I’d stopped trying to sit up, the pain in my thigh pulsed too steadily, black veins crawling out from underneath the silks around it, like ink under my skin.
My shoulder was better, but my thigh burned from the inside, and with each breath it felt as if her claws were still there, piercing.
Footsteps, slow and even, crossed the marble floor outside. No hiss of amusement, no clatter of weapons, just the steady rhythm of someone who didn’t need to rush.
Zinlia appeared beside me. I caught a glimpse of her through my lashes—petite, still, eyes that had never known flame. Her presence was as quiet as a graveyard.
She crouched without a word. A bowl of water appeared from somewhere, steam rising faintly. A white cloth, too white for this place, unfolded between her fingers. She touched my shoulder first. The hot fabric stung worse than a blade would have.
I flinched, but she didn’t react.
The cloth passed over torn skin, wiping away blood with patient, practiced strokes. There was no tenderness, but no cruelty either, only precision, like I was a thing that needed maintenance.
“Does it please your king,” I rasped. “That his minions are playing with me like I’m their latest toy?”
Zinlia wrung out the cloth, the bright red of my blood swirling in the water. “He prefers his possessions intact.” Her voice was flat, a shadow of sound.
Possession. The word lodged somewhere beneath my ribs.
When she turned to my thigh, she ripped off the silk and bared the corruption. It writhed at her touch, the black lines trembling under my skin. Her magic, cold, freezing against my skin, pressed against the infection, forcing it to still. I bit my tongue until I tasted iron.
“Zinlia…” My voice cracked. “My friends, have they been taken too?”
She paused, a momentary flicker, a hesitation in the steady rhythm of her hands. But she resumed just as smoothly as before.
“I do not know,” she said flatly.
I wanted to believe her, yet I didn’t.
The cloth swept over the last streak of blood, and she straightened. The bowl’s water had turned murky, the color of dusk.
“You should not struggle,” she said quietly. “It makes the pain worse.”
The only thing on my mind was the smell of damp linen and the echo of that single word, possession. It made me want to break my composure and tear this place down myself, or die trying.
And then she was moving, the door opening with a whisper, but before she could slip through, someone caught it and Zinlia’s eyes widened for the first time.
He entered, the air shifting as if the castle itself feared him. Red shadows clung to his presence, the torches shrinking low in their sconces, flames drawn thin by the weight of his power.
Crimson hair caught in the faint light, dark as fresh blood. For an instant, the sight of him twisted something deep in my chest, Malakai’s face echoed there, sharper, older, crueler.
“Still alive,” the Demon King said lightly, his voice smooth, deliberate. “Good. I would have been disappointed if my pets ruined you before I’d finished thinking.”
He stopped beside the table where Zinlia had left the bowl of murky water. His gaze lingered on it, then returned to me. “I needed time to… consider yesterday’s revelation.”
Yesterday? Had it already been a day here since I first met him? The knowledge rubbed my sense of confidence, making me wonder how long I had been away from my friends before I even woke up.
I held his stare, though every instinct screamed to look away. “You mean the fact that your son exists,” I said, my voice rough.
A faint curve touched his mouth. “That he exists, and that he left his scent all over a mage of flames.”
He moved closer, the air heating as he did. “Half demon, half human,” he mused, studying me. “Born of my blood. I never imagined one of mine could create something so… conflicted.”
My pulse hammered in my throat. “He’s nothing like you.”
“Oh?” The word was soft, almost amused. “Tell me, then. Does he keep you as a vessel to draw strength from until you’re hollow? Or does he feign tenderness and call it love?”
I swallowed hard, the ache in my thigh pulsing in time with my heartbeat. “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”
He tilted his head, eyes burning brighter. “Wouldn’t I?”
He touched my chin with a sharp nail, just enough to lift it.
The contact was ice. “You think affection makes him different from me. But affection rots, it’s an emotion we demons learn to mimic in order to lure.
Desire consumes. So tell me, little flame, has he begun having trouble keeping his fangs away from you? ”
I jerked my head away. “You talk too much for someone who barely knew of his own kin’s existence.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then that faint smile again, a shadow of amusement and something colder.
“It begins with fear,” he said. “An emotion for those who can lose. And he will lose the war against his hunger, eventually.”
I swallowed, remembering how Malakai had refused to bite me back in the Whispering Woods… Did he fear his hunger would take over? No, he would never put me in that kind of danger…
“Why are you doing this?” I asked firmly, hatred coating my voice.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he drawled on the words. “Your world has an excitement to it that my own lacks, and I wish to claim it for my own entertainment. The thrill of the hunt, the bloodlust of a kill and I need all flame-wielders to take it.”
“We won’t fight our own for you!” I spat.
His eyes began glowing and he chuckled darkly. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, little flame. Humans have ruled these lands long enough, treating animals like their livestock… How about we spice things up and treat the humans as livestock now?”
I opened my mouth, but no words left me. I was horrified. We were merely food for them, not even a threat.
He turned, letting his gaze sweep the cracked walls, the dying candlelight.
“Rest. My son will come for you; he won’t be able to stop himself. And when he does…” He looked back at me, red eyes gleaming like the sun. “We’ll both learn what he truly inherited.”
He left with no more sound than a breath.
Only when the latch clicked did I realise I’d been holding my fire tight inside me, like a secret I was no longer sure I could trust.