I understand she’s not angry with me, but it’s hard not to feel targeted when demonic blood flows in my veins. She tears her gaze away. The harsh light spilling over her features from the magelights suspended above cause the silver beads in her hair to flash in a striking gleam.
The entire archive is filled with such harsh light. Glass orbs hung on chains litter the vaulted ceiling, casting conical slips of light inan otherwise darkened expanse. They’re the only source of light and judging by the windowless structure and the soft but pressing thrum in my chest, this archive liesunderground.
Somewhere far below the citadel, ensconced byAether.
I buckle beneath the weight of her stare, turning my eyes to the glass I set before me. She braces herself against the beaten table stretching between us. It’s covered in a heavy layer of dust and an array of title-less, black leather-bound books.
“How long do you think she's been here?” Eve demands, throwing her arms wide as she straightens herself.
I shift in my seat, ready to answer.
I’m not given the chance.
“No, I’ll tell you,” she interjects harshly. “Months. She’s been here since the moment she wentsilent.”
That would place her in this realm for the last two, two and a half months. I’m not sure I believe that. Demons existing for that long on this side of the veil shouldn’t be possible. Like with the loss of Aether, demons subsist on Nether and there’s just not enough of it in this realm.
I pause… unless Cal Anore is like Illa Ysari… and smothered by Nether.
Unwilling to lose myself to the thought, I shove it aside. Abundance of Nether or not, it doesn’t change the factDruka is here.
That’s a crossroads I never thought I’d encounter.
“We can’t know that,” I reply. “She could have arrived recently.”
Eve stare turns incredulous. “Ves, did you not see the same demon I did? She seems awfully close to your necromancer for someone who’s just arrived,” she argues and there’s more than a healthy dose of bitterness in her tone.
Yournecromancer.
I nearly laugh with the thought.
He’s certainly notmyanything. At the very least, I’m thankful I can say he’s not my enemy. For the time being. Whatever the nature of his involvement with Druka, it doesn’t involve me.
I sink farther into my seat, a larger problem making itself clear. The influence of the demonic channel is rendering Eve jealous. That serves no one… aside from feeding Druka’s amusement.
“Feel what you need, Eve, but don’t give in to it,” I warn and she scoffs, throwing my words aside with a toss of her head. “One of the purposes of the demonic channel is tobreedlonging.A desire forcloseness. You’re going to want her attention. You’re going towanttoprotecther. Those feelings… they’re allartifice.”
I accused Ryc of the same months ago.
“I know that!” Eve shouts and the words echo.
As they fade, I draw a deep breath, as does she.
Were she anyone else, I might shout back.
But for now, I refrain.
She deserves the space to work through what she’s carried. Just as Ryc did the same for me.
“Do you think I’m not aware my rampant worry for a demonother than youis fabricated?” she asks, her tone far softer. “I’ve spent the last few months feelingabandonedby her. Not knowing what I’ve done wrong to deserve her silence.”
I can’t imagine how maddening that must feel.
A contract serves a demon always.
The expense at which it does matters little—to the demon.
Demons aren’t meant tomeettheir contracted. They’re supposed to remain realms apart. Gods only know how such proximity has altered the demonic channel.
