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I stop at the base of the keep, a few yards from what remains of the front door. The air shifts, and gold catches the light to form a transparent silhouette, only revealed by a web of threads wrapped around it. The figure tears through the courtyard, breaking through the wild foliage that’s all but eaten up thecobblestone paths. They’re darting at a breakneck pace for the front door of the keep, like it’s a lifeline.
Interesting.
Tilting my head, I wait for them to get closer. Honestly, I’m surprised they got through the enchanted walls. They were erected ages ago to conceal the estate from the rest of the realm—unless that too has faltered with time.
With a flutter of my eyelids, I teleport. Bright webs of light and shadow spin around me until I materialize just inside the keep’s front door.
The hooded figure hasn’t noticed I disappeared. Gold threads wrap around their otherwise-invisible silhouette as they burst through the open doorway, oblivious to me waiting just inside.
There you are.
I hardly move an inch, my leather boots rooted in place, as if the vines pouring through the cracks in the marble and broken windows hold me here. Darting out a hand, I grip invisible fabric while simultaneously drawing my dagger from the sheath on my thigh.
A slender shape flickers in and out of view as I pin the trespasser to the soot-covered walls. They jerk wildly against my hold, but the moment the cool blade reaches their throat, they freeze. The magic still obscures their face from view, but I snarl, leaning closer, pinning them harder against the stone.
“Who are you, and why are you in my house?” My voice is dark, gutting, as if my words alone could flay flesh from bone. “Speak,” I command when they don’t answer.
The featureless outline of a person doesn’t move. Doesn't breathe. The magic threads weave around them still, the lines messy, unpracticed.Undisciplined. Whoever it is, they lack the know-how to cast decent spells. My baby niece could do better than this.
“Fine. Don’t talk,” I growl through clenched teeth. Holding the figure to the wall, dagger in hand, I reach a dark claw up into the space between their face and mine, curling it around the thread holding their sorry excuse for a spell together. The originating strand always glows just a little brighter than the rest. The others knotting around it are more gold and yellow, while the origin strand is pure white.
Tugging gently, I test my theory. As expected, the other threads strain just enough to make the magic falter a moment. My lips pulling into a wicked smirk, I watch the person’s cloaked head jerk left, then right. I can taste the fear wafting off them, mixing in the air with the sweetness of our mingling power.
Then, the thread snaps.
The magic crumbles in an instant, laying the cloaked stranger bare to my scrutinizing gaze. Still, they don’t take off the hood. The dark blue fabric falls just to the tip of their nose, and I hold my breath as I find lips too full, toofeminine,to be male. They part on a sharp gasp.
Tilting my head to the side, I furrow my brow. It’s… a woman?
My jaw clenches as I let my head fall back, the faint outline of the triplet moons now visible in the darkening sky… through thegaping holein the foyer's ceiling.How the hell did that get there?It goes straight through the second and third stories.The gods must be laughing at me.
With a huff, I sheath my dagger. I won’t be needing it, even if she is a pest currently taking up residence in my home. Giving a sharp tug on the woman’s hood, she jolts as the dark fabric pools over her shoulders, revealing her flawlessly beautiful face.
“Well… What have we here?” I arch an eyebrow, making no effort to step away.
Dark, bone-straight hair splays across her face. Her breaths are even despite the circumstances, dark green eyes narrowed at me like looks alone could kill. But it’s the tips of pointy earspeeking through her hair that seems to make my blood go cold, just for an instant.
“You’re awfully far away from home,” I muse. Far is putting it nicely. She’s an entire ocean away from the Elven Islands. The elves don’t come to the mainland unless the lords are convening. Even then, everyone but the elf lord stays onboard their intricately carved ships. Ships that are covered in more gold and crystals than there the entire castle in Hell Hold possesses. And that’s where the King and Queen of the Seven Realms live.
The elves stick to themselves, tooesteemedto associate with other species. It’s as if we’re beneath them. Or so they believe. They also think they’re blessed by the old gods and protected by the dragons since one of the furies was nice enough to make their lands rich with crystals.
Sure, they have magic. They have more crystals to power their magic and spells than any of the other six realms, but relying on said stones is their biggest crutch, too. Without their special rocks, they’re powerless. Whereas we demons siphon it from our very souls.
My eyes drop to the red stone pendant she’s clutching in her white-knuckled fist. I might not be able to view the stone itself through her delicate fingers, but I can feel it pulsing, the power it breathes into the air dancing over my flesh like ghostly fingers.
I curl a claw around the golden chain, breaking it with ease. “I’ll be taking this.”
“The hell you are,” she snaps, gripping the pendant tighter.
Gently, I circle her wrist, prying her fingers away from the pendant one by one. She grits her teeth, fightingso hard. It’s almost cute.
Pendant in my grasp, I dangle the chain in front of her. “You can have it back when you answer my questions.”
She darts a hand up, trying to snatch it away, but my hand flicks into a swirl of shadow, and the pendant disappears. Hergold-flecked emerald eyes widen, and she lets out a shaky exhale through her nose. “What did you do with it?” With a clipped tone, her defiant eyes narrow on me.
"I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.”
Her nose twitches, ever so slightly, her gaze turning lethal. “Where is it, asshole?”
