Page 8 of Fated to the Demon Lord

She chuckled. “I did. Very much so.”

“Do you want to take a break?” It would be fine. Besides, Mira looked as if she needed it.

“Maybe briefly.”

I moved her to a nearby log, where she exhaled a long breath. She lay on the fallen tree and laughed out loud. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

Sitting in the dirt at her feet, I let my head rest against the dry, cracked log. Within the mist, the trees had become ghostly towers that could pose as either innocuous plants or terrible enemies. I wanted to feel better like Mira, but the hazy gray swirls gave an ominous impression as if I was still being suffocated by our demon overlords. A foreboding crawled up my spine, driving me to my feet.

“We need to get going.”

“Already?” She regarded me with surprise. “I guess so.”

I walked over to help her up, but she held up a hand. “I’m feeling better,” she said. “I’ll walk on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, breathing in. “The mist was a lucky blessing. It was as if the gods sent it to assist us in our escape.”

“I don’t know if this mist is from the gods,” I murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

I shook my head. There was no logical reason. But a growing darkness gathered inside me. Perhaps the gods refused to let me escape after causing the death of an entire camp.

Mira emitted a shaky laugh. “Goodness, Denara, we’ve clearly escaped and yet you seem more nervous than when we left.” She gave me a concerned look. “We are going to need food. I’ll be on the lookout for berries as we walk.”

I stepped forward, but my foot brushed against something. Glancing down, I spotted chickweed sprouting through the earth. Speaking of food—it was an edible plant. While kneeling to gather some, I noticed the fog had thickened, obscuring Mira from view.

Shit. Had she gone on ahead without me?

“Wait, Mira!” I shot to my feet and hurried after her.

“I’m right here, Denara.”

A flash of golden-blond hair flickered through the fog. I lunged toward it, only to grasp cold emptiness. “Where?”

Oh gods, I could lose her here.

I pushed faster, but not fast enough. A heartbeat later, her scream tore through the air.

No.

I broke into a sprint. A shape loomed ahead in the mist, and I drove myself harder toward it. Hands reached out from the fog, and I realized too late they were gnarled, twisted hands. Demon hands.

How did the demons from the mercenary army find me so quickly?

I tried to dodge them, but they snatched me up as if I weighed no more than a mouse.

The demon stepped forward. He was huge—a troll like Raxus, only older and bigger. Large tusks jutted from his lower jaw. His head was flat and lacking hair.

But unlike Raxus, grotesque black lines covered his body. Dark cracks in his skin made him look… off. His eyes, burning with an orange luminescence, glared at me.

This wasn’t just a troll. Could this be a demon from the fifth demon kingdom, Spiritu Malignos? I’d heard of the telltale black lines that marked these demons as dead—a spirit that had claimed a host body.

Who was he? Where had he come from?

“I scent death.” His gaze dropped to me in his grasp. “Are you the one who brought it, little human? You smell of death yourself.”