Ryva’s voice was like a haunting whisper, sending a chill up Bren’s spine. His stomach dropped, Bren quickly stepping forward as he shoved past the demon, determined to see for himself. 

He stopped dead in his tracks.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he looked out past the line of gnarled, black trees concealing them. They were so close to the barrier Bren could see it shedding light and particles of magic, flowing like milky water to the ground. Though it was beautiful, illuminating the barren land between the forest and the border, Ryva was right…they weren’t alone. 

A battalion of prosecutors lined a massive metal wall that spanned as far as he could see, directly blocking the barrier. They were armed with intricate weapons, firearms much like what Bren had seen them carry at the manor. His thoughts were flooded with the moment he’d been helpless and surrounded—his mother dead and his vessel used up.

This time will be different, Bren thought to himself, his hands tightening into fists.

Though his eyes darted around the formation of guards, all clad in their pristine red uniforms, Bren found his gaze on the wall between them and the barrier. It had to have been several stories tall, gleaming like polished steel. There was an enormous gate between two circular watchtowers, solid and lined with vicious spikes. It looked menacing, intimidating…and impenetrable. 

“They really don’t want anything getting in,” Bren murmured to Archer as his brother crept up beside him to get a better look for himself. 

Bren felt no comfort as Ryva’s warmth brushed against his back, the demon’s hands gently resting on his shoulders. He leaned in from behind to whisper in Bren’s ear. “Or maybe they don’t want people getting out…”

Shuddering at Ryva’s hot breath steaming his neck, Bren found himself shrugging off the demon’s grip, turning to stare up at him. He looked like a creature born of nightmares, wicked, grinning fangs glinting in the red smolder of his eyes. His horns blended in almost seamlessly with the branches, his ashen hair the only thing to stand out against the shade. 

Pushing past the heat in his face, Bren stated in a whisper, “What exactly do you propose we do? It’s not just the barrier we have to get past. It’s the fortress and the prosecutors… We’re completely outnumbered.” The more Bren considered their options the worse he felt. 

He was wanted. Word would have likely spread regarding not only the attack, but his identity, too. The last place he should have been was in this position, surrounded by armed prosecutors with only his brother and a demon at his side. 

Ryva chuckled, his eyes narrowing as they remained fixated on Bren. He folded his arms behind his back, leaning in as if he were giving Bren a bow. It was merely to whisper, “Don’t underestimate me, sweetheart.” His words curled through the air, threatening and alluring all at once. “All you need to do is ask me to take care of them.”

Bren couldn’t stop himself from raising a brow, standing his ground as he pushed back, “There must be a hundred of them at least… You’re saying you can take them all on your own?”

“Just give me the word,” Ryva winked, his grin growing wider, cunning as he murmured, “master.”

Bren sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw, ignoring the heat that pooled low inside him at the way Ryva called him ‘master’. Somehow the more the demon said it, the more Bren wanted it to be true.

His eyes shifted to look up at Archer, painfully aware of how tense things were between them. “Any other suggestions?” Bren asked, mildly hopeful that Archer would see some way to try and sneak around the prosecutors undetected. 

Letting out a gruff sigh, Archer shook his head, his eyes darting between the careful positioning of the guards. “There are no blindspots. Those towers mean that there are likely more of them scouting the land from above…who knows how many more are inside the walls or what kind of armory we have to contend with. The weapons they have will ensure any shield formed by magic is useless… They’ll be too strong a force, even with your vessel.” Archer’s eyes flashed past Bren to Ryva, staring at him harshly as he snapped, “You’ll take care of them and get us past the border?”

Ryva had never looked so pleased as he murmured, “If that is Bren’s desire, I’ll happily oblige.” He tilted his head, cracking his neck grotesquely as he rolled his shoulders, readying himself for a fight. “It’s been a while since I’ve stretched my wings.”   

Though Bren had expected it to simply be a figure of speech, there was a twinge at the center of his chest as he watched smoke plume from Ryva’s back, transforming into large, leathery red wings. They were veined with jet black, the thumbs of them looking like huge spikes made of obsidian. Bren flinched as he saw a tail flick out around Ryva’s legs, spined and serrated in a gradient of red and black.

Bren hadn’t thought it was possible for Ryva to look more like a demon, but here he stood, demonic and menacing like never before…waiting for Brennon’s command. 

Heart pounding in his chest, Bren looked down at the vessel that still hung around his neck, faintly glowing beneath his shirt. It seemed almost useless now—pointless when he’d made a deal with a demon. 

“Alright,” Bren whispered, barely able to find his voice as he stared back up at Ryva, strong and brimming with power. 

Ryva reached forward to hook his finger under Bren’s chin, holding his gaze as he caressed Bren’s jawline. “Alright…what? Say the words, sweetheart.” 

Bren reached for the pendant around his chest, touching it lightly for comfort. He could feel the familiar icy prickling where his fingers met the stone, even through the fabric, but he let his hand fall, knowing he had no need to use the vessel. 

Blinking up at the demon, Bren let out a final breath before he uttered, “I want you to do whatever it takes to get us through the barrier, alive.”

Letting out a satisfied, almost amatory sigh, Ryva slowly closed his eyes. The smoke around him billowed, darkening in thick swirls as shadows dripped off of his form like liquid. His hands grew monstrous, fingers long and sharp like razors. His fangs grew larger, eyes opening and glowing almost white as his magic surged within him. 

A sharp, stabbing pain bloomed at the center of Bren’s chest, making his ribs and breath seize. He had to force out shallow grunts of breath, hunching over as he watched dark magic pulse in waves of light over Ryva’s hands through the dense smoke. 

It hurt… When Ryva used his magic, it filled Bren with just as much agony as corruption. 

The demon was lightning quick and agile as he shot forward out of the cover of trees, a dark creature born of terror. 

There were shouts, the rattling sounds of weapons being readied as the bright glow of magic flashed through the trees. There were blasts of light firing off in nearly every direction, Archer grabbing Bren as they sank low to the ground for cover. 

Ryva was impossible to keep track of as he moved swiftly through the air and across the dead earth; the sound of weapons firing and errant screams were the only indicator of which direction he was in. 

Bren gasped for breath, clutching his chest as the pressure worsened, like a dull blade pressing hard against his sternum that threatened to crack through his very bones. Slamming his eyes shut, Bren's knees buckled as he collapsed forward, catching himself with one hand as he sank his fingers into the dusty ground. 

He swore, barely able to pay attention to whatever was happening at the gate as he folded in on himself in a throbbing ache. It felt like he was going to be split open, his skull tight as his whole body pulsed and tensed. He was trembling, prying his eyes open to look up through the trees as he heard someone scream, “It’s a demon!”

Bren’s eyes went wide with horror as he stared out across the cracked and ashen ground. Blood surrounded dismembered figures in dark pools, seeping into the dusty soil as if it was thirsty for it. There were insides and viscera visibly strewn across the earth, weapons lying smoking and abandoned next to severed limbs.  

A hand shot up over Bren’s mouth as his whole body went cold, Bren shocked and frightened that he would be sick where he knelt. He looked away almost instantly, reminded of when his mother had been ripped open by Ora. 

His hand was shaking, barely enough strength in him to hold himself up. 

Bren could see his vision darken at the edges, unsure if it was from the massacre or the pain that still ignited him from the inside, hot and searing. “Archer…” Bren muttered feebly, scrunching up his face as he tried to fight the threat of falling unconscious, sounds of anguish leaving him through his grit teeth.   

He could hear Archer tell him to hold on, but his brother’s voice was distorted, sounding like it was muffled and underwater. Bren’s mind was thick with fog and unable to make sense of his surroundings anymore. 

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain began to ease and fade. Though Bren’s head was reeling, he suddenly felt like he could breathe and the pressure in his bones lessened. Acute sounds filled his ears once more, exhaustion washing over him as he sat back on his heels and sucked in deep breaths that filled his lungs. 

“Brennon? Bren! Are you alright? Talk to me!” Archer shook him gently, crouched and concerned beside him. 

Bren blinked, glancing up at his brother as he said in a rush of relief, “I’m okay… I’m fine.” He was still quivering, his hands unsteady as he clasped them in his lap. There were no signs of corruption on them; a small relief. Still, it didn’t crush Bren’s sense of dread as he brushed a thumb over the silver scar of his vow… The mark that bound him to Ryva. 

The sound of steady wingbeats made Bren look up, Archer’s hand still gripping his arm. 

Ryva landed gracefully on his feet just outside the treeline, the shadows around him fading as his wings and tail disappeared into smoke. His hands became more human, eyes returning to their normal ruby red. “I’ve cleared a path for you,” he murmured, holding out his hand for Bren as if he were extending an invitation. 

Bren grit his teeth, cringing back from the man as he noticed thick splatters of blood staining his clothes and face. “You… You killed them,” Bren stammered, fear sinking into him as he found himself unable to break away from the demon’s gaze. “All of them.”

For the first time, Ryva’s smile felt thin and shallow, his eyes dangerous as he said in a quiet murmur, “You asked me to take care of them so that you would be spared…” A brow lifted as he asked in question, “Have you never killed anyone to save yourself, sweetheart? I think we both know that you have.”

Bren swallowed, unable to deny it. 

Ryva stepped closer, his tone far more serious as he knelt before Bren on one knee, ignoring Archer’s warning hiss of breath. “I’m sorry if you’re frightened.” Ryva blinked slowly as he looked down at Bren’s shaking hands, reaching out carefully to brush the back of his fingers against them. The gesture was tender and calm, Ryva whispering, “But you don’t need to be afraid of me, Brennon. Everything I do, I do for you.” 

The demon’s deep voice was soothing, Bren wondering if it was some kind of enchantment that lulled him back into a sense of safety. “When you used your magic…it hurt me,” Bren muttered, unsure he really wanted to admit it out loud, especially in front of Archer. 

Before his brother could interject, Ryva pushed himself to stand once more, his hand remaining outstretched for Bren. “You’ll get used to it, sweetheart, I assure you.”

Hesitating for a moment more, Bren reluctantly grasped Ryva’s hand, allowing the demon to pull him to his feet and out of Archer’s hold. Bren stumbled, caught by Ryva’s strong arms as the demon pulled him against his chest. The blood was slick and wet on his clothes, making Bren slam his eyes shut as he thought of the man he’d killed in the alley. 

His arms automatically shifted to hang around the back of Ryva’s neck, desperate not to touch the blood. “I thought I’d feel stronger,” Bren whispered, still fighting not to look at the carnage he knew surrounded them; he didn’t want to feel so afraid…terrified at what Ryva was capable of. 

“Oh, don’t worry. You will,” Ryva said, a dark chuckle in his throat as he helped to steady Bren on his feet, an arm still around his waist for support. 

“I will?” Bren asked, still trying to catch his breath. He gazed up at Ryva, the demon grinning down at him; his face was much closer than Bren had expected. 

There was a stutter in Bren’s pulse as he saw the demon’s eyes flick to his lips.

“All in good time.” An amused smile curled Ryva’s mouth as he murmured, “And once you do…” He gave Bren a wink, eyes flicking to Archer for a split second as he uttered, “We’ll be unstoppable.”