Page 68 of Fated to the Demon Lord

The necklace floated in the air and glided toward the door. Mother rose, her eyes gleaming. “Quickly, Denara.”

I opened the door, and the necklace drifted outside, and Mother raced after it. I hurried after her as we cut around the old wooden buildings and in the direction of the large brick barn. We ignored everyone and everything and dashed forward until we came to a fenced enclosure, and the necklace fell at the feet of a boy who was dumping slop into a pigsty. We both stopped and stared as the boy looked up and blanched.

Tears filled my eyes. Gerand. His skin was dirty, and his clothes too raggedy, and his body was thin, like he hadn’t gotten enough food. His mess of hair curled around his ears, long and unruly. But he was here. Alive.

“Denara?” he said in awe.

“Oh, my boy, my boy.” Mother threw her arms around him.

Confusion laced Gerand’s face, his brows shooting upward. “M-ma?”

I shook myself—the moment too surreal. So long I’d worried and fought to get to him, and here he was. My hands balled. I’d die before I lost him again.

“We must hurry.” I wiped at my watering eyes. “We have an escape route.”

“Escape?” he repeated as he looked between me and Mother in a daze.

“We’re freeing you,” I said gently, hoping to lessen his shock.

“Yes.” Mother gripped his hand. “Hurry.”

It took him another moment, but then he set down the bucket and hurried after us.

We passed through the narrow passageways between the buildings, heading back the way we had come.

We rounded a corner straight into three demons. They were tall, with deer heads and long antlers—like Bargoth. They stalked toward us on their hooved feet. It was apparent even with Vaelor and the bandits that not all the demons had left the compound. “This is the one. The one that smells like magic,” said one guard.

Another guard wore a metal breastplate and a helmet that accommodated his horns, where the first two simply had swords belted at their waists.

“Take these three to the master,” the helmeted demon said to the other two. “We need to find out what is going on here.”

Gerand whimpered, and Mother and I exchanged looks of dread as they gripped us and redirected us to the front of the compound.

I didn’t know what awaited us, but I was sure it wasn’t good.

Eighteen

The guard’s sharp fingers dug into my shoulder as he marched us to the black-stone manor. Ivy crawled across the massive facade, twisting through cracks in the dark walls. They hauled us over a broad stone walkway that bore scorching burn marks. I tried to keep my head high, but I couldn’t stop wondering if some poor soul had met their end on those stones.

And whether we would be next.

A man emerged from the manor as we approached. His black hair hung past his shoulders like a dark curtain, and at first glance he almost looked human. Almost.

The illusion shattered when he lifted his head. His eyes were reptilian—cold, slit-pupil, ancient. Demon eyes.

He towered over any mortal man, his massive frame corded with thick muscle beneath skin that seemed barely able to contain him. Every movement carried predatory precision, smooth and deliberate—a beast deciding whether to strike.

His lip curled in irritation.

“What is going on?” His voice cut through the air like a blade. “You are interrupting an important meeting.”

He glared as if he were weighing which of us he wanted to devour first. Reddish scales rippled under his skin, extending over his arms as if trying to escape, despite his human-like appearance.

This had to be Mirvarax.

Vaelor followed him outside.

“Sir, we found these women sneaking into the compound.” The guard's grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. “Earlier we located another two as well.”