The campfire crackled softly, its flickering light casting long shadows across the clearing. Lorelai cursed under her breath, sitting alone on a log. Her twisting the same bit of rope into another knot. Her mind was too restless to stop moving, the knot itself was pointless, just a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions and worries threatening to consume her.
She glanced at her companions through the corner of her eye. Thrax sprawled near the fire, one arm slung over his eyes, his chest rising and falling steadily. He’d shed his armor and weapons, revealing the hard lines of his physique beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Even in repose, he exuded power, a reminder of the force he could unleash when pushed.
Her gaze lingered on him for a beat too long, her mind wandering back to the way he’d pinned her earlier. His teasing smirk, the heat of his body pressed against hers, the way his strength seemed effortless, it sent an unwelcome thrill through her. Why does he have to be so insufferably confident? she thought, shaking her head to banish the memory.
Then there was Aeryn, perched on a rock just beyond the firelight. The vampire leaned back lazily, her crimson eyes half-closed as she polished her rapier with deliberate care. Her movements were fluid, precise, and undeniably elegant. Aeryn’s teasing words from earlier echoed in Lorelai’s mind, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down her spine at the memory of those claws on her neck, the faint sting of her blood drawn, and the soft brush of lips against her skin. Damn her. Damn both of them. Lorelai cursed under her breath. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way about either of them, let alone both. Thrax’s boisterous confidence and Aeryn’s enigmatic allure were distractions she couldn’t afford.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and forced herself to focus. Demos. He was the problem, not her traitorous heart. She didn’t know why Demos wanted it, but she knew enough to be wary. He was clever, manipulative, and always hidden. Locating him might be impossible. He’d left no trail, no clues, and her attempts to connect the dots only led to more questions. The Compass itself held answers she was certain of it, but what answers it held she knew not. Its secrets remained frustratingly out of reach.
The Academy loomed around Lorelai, its vaulted ceilings and labyrinthine corridors heavy with history and secrets. The flickering glow of arcane lamps cast wavering shadows on the cold stone walls, and the distant hum of magical wards filled the air. It was late and most of the students and faculty had retreated to their quarters. Only her footsteps echoed now, sharp against the silence.
She tightened her cloak around her shoulders, the Compass concealed in her pocket. Every lead she had followed looking for Demos had turned to dust. It was to the point where she'd go down obscure passageways in the hopes that Demos would appear, but none of it had bared any fruit.
Demos had covered his tracks well; she paused at a set of carved wooden doors, their surface inlaid with silver runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. The athenaeum, if there were answers to be found, they would be here.
Pushing the doors open, she stepped inside quietly and discreetly. Unlike the last time, she did not have the permission to enter. The scent of aged parchment and ink washed over her, familiar and oddly comforting. Rows of towering shelves stretched into the darkness, their contents guarded by enchantments she didn’t fully understand. Lorelai made her way to the restricted section, a cordoned-off area at the far end of the library. The shelves housing dangerous, powerful, or inhumane forms of magic or research revolving around it. The wards here far were stronger, the air thrumming with latent magic.
The restricted section was not warded with glyphs, but each individual tome and scroll were. The restricted section was quieter, the shadows darker and more ominous. Lorelai moved quickly, scanning the shelves, when the title of a book seemed to leap out at her: Diabolica: On Devils and Their Bargains. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing she could think of, know thy enemy know thyself.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Her fingers trailed along the spine, the leather-bound volume was heavier than she expected, its cover worn but intact. She carried it to a nearby table and flipped it open, the ancient pages crackling softly. The text was dense, filled with diagrams of infernal sigils and accounts of devilish dealings. Lorelai skimmed the passages, her eyes darting over phrases that felt too familiar. Promises cloaked in truth. Power offered at a price.
Her breath caught when she found something too close to home scrawled in the margins of one page: Demos, Bone Devil of the fourth circle.
It was written in a hand that didn't match the rest of the text, like someone left a cliff note. The sight of it sent a chill down her spine. She ran her fingers over the faded ink, her mind racing. Someone else knew of Demos, but who?
The air shifted, the faint wards of the restricted section thrumming uneasily.
Lorelai froze. She wasn’t alone.
The shadows at the edge of the room deepened, coalescing into a shape. At first, it was indistinct, a mass of dark energy that radiated cold malice. As it stepped forward, it solidified into a towering figure. Bone-white and impossibly thin, with elongated limbs and sharp, clawed hands. Its face was a mockery of a human skull, its hollow eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.
Demos.
“Looking for me?” His voice was as she remembered, before he retook the form of the old man from before his smooth and mocking voice replaced the one that laced with malice.
Lorelai pushed back from the table, her heart pounding. “Stay back.”
“Now, now,” Demos purred, his grin widening. “Is that any way to greet an old friend? After all the trouble you’ve gone through to find me?”
“I have the compass. Take it and go,” Lorelai said, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her chest. “I've fulfilled my bargain.”
Demos tilted his head, a clawed human hand tapping idly on the edge of the table. “Give me the compass, my dear, and we shall see where your divine spark lies."
Her hand flew to her pocket instinctively, and Demos chuckled, the sound echoing unnaturally in the enclosed space.
“Ah, yes. I don't blame you for not trusting me,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “Such a curious thing, isn’t it?
She didn’t answer, her mind racing for a way out.
Demos sighed, as if disappointed. “You’ve been searching for me and still, you don’t see the truth.”
His clawed hand dipped into his pocket revealing a small vial with red liquid inside that seemed to have a glow to it. He reached out, slow and deliberate, as if inviting her to hand over the Compass. “But I can show you. I can help you understand, with this small vial of your blood.”
Lorelai’s grip tightened on the table’s edge. “If I didn't owe you a favor, we would've never spoke.”
“No?” His grin widened, impossibly sharp. “Then perhaps you would've preferred to live in squalor with no mana, or skills to your name? Return to being useless? No, you would've done it again if given the choice, so stop pretending and let me show you what you really are.”
Her voice caught in her throat, he brought her nightmare into the open, her feeling of helplessness before...she never wanted that again. She handed him the compass, "Now pay attention," Demos commanded as he unstopped the vial, "Once I introduce your blood to this compass, it will reveal where your divine spark has been hidden."
He carefully poured three drops of blood into the center of the compass, which once the blood made contact, began to emit a golden glow. The compass needle snapped immediately to Lorelai, then after a brief pause, spun rapidly without stopping. Demos' calm demeanor vanished, replaced by unbridled rage. The air in the athenaeum grew grew heavy with dark, viscous mana making it harder for her to breathe, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR SPARK?" Demos shouted, transforming into his grotesque form. Before she could respond, the shadows surged around him, swallowing his form. The air stilled, and he was gone.
Lorelai sank back into her chair, her breath coming in short gasps. Her mind whirled at his sudden departure when she realized that another had entered the athenaeum; Avantus. If he had ever been angry during their training sessions, it paled to his expression now. She had too many things going through her mind to feel worried about the trouble she was currently in with the academy. Since she had first made the deal with the imp, she had finally realized a terrifying truth: it wasn’t a lucky encounter, she was the prey.