“You’re staring at your hands as if they might explode,” he continues.
“That seems like a reasonable concern.”
“They will not,” he reassures me.
“You said that very confidently.”
“Because I am always correct.”
I glance down again at the faint glow curling around my fingers.
“It doesn’t feel very correct.”
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his presence beside me. The bond reacts instantly to the proximity, the unstable heat along my skin settling slightly as though recognizing the source of its power.
“Fear,” he says quietly, “is not your enemy.”
I lift a brow.
“That is a very strange thing for a wrath demon to say.”
“I did not say panic was useful.”
His hand moves slowly, stopping just short of touching mine.
“Look at it.”
“I am looking at it.”
“No,” he says softly. “You are fearing it.”
I hesitate before forcing myself to focus on the faint light instead of recoiling from it. The glow shifts again. Not stronger. Just… steadier.
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“You stopped resisting it.”
“I stopped imagining the village catching fire.”
“That helps.”
Something like a smile shows on my face. I glance at him sideways.
“You have trained a lot of humans to control demonic magic?”
“No.”
“Then how would you know?”
“Because,” he says with irritating calm, “most of them would already be screaming.”
“That seems unfair.”
“It is accurate.”
I roll my eyes.
