Page 29 of Demon Lord's Proposal

I begin grinding herbs, the repetitive motion soothing my frayed nerves. As I work, my mind drifts back to my first day in the underworld, lost and confused in a sea of souls. I remember the fear, the despair, and then... the spark of curiosity when I first saw Slim's Last Chance.

My hands move automatically, measuring and mixing ingredients for a memory potion. I've made these before, but never with such personal stakes. As I stir the bubbling liquid, flashes of my past life surface:

The day my aunt revealed I'm a hexeblood, terrified and exhilarated.

My wedding day, joy turning to betrayal in an instant.

The moment of my execution, the world fading to black.

I blink away tears, focusing on the potion. As it simmers, I add a drop of my own blood, watching it swirl and change color. I lift the vial to my lips, hesitating for just a moment before drinking.

The memories hit me like a tidal wave:

My first night at Slim's, the chaos and excitement.

Deus pulling me behind the bar, his gruff voice barking orders.

Late nights in this very lab, learning the intricacies of demonic alchemy.

The thrill of creating my first successful underworld elixir.

The assassin's attack, and the surge of power as I defended myself.

I gasp, setting down the empty vial. These memories are sharper, more vivid than those of my mortal life. I've changed so much since coming here, grown in ways I never thought possible.

"Deus," I whisper, his name a prayer and a curse on my lips. I close my eyes, remembering the feel of his hands on my skin, the intensity of his gaze. There's attraction there, undeniably, but it's more than that. Respect. Understanding. A connection I've never felt with anyone else.

But there are challenges too: His temper, my stubbornness. The vast gulf of experience between us. The politics of the underworld that constantly threaten to tear us apart.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't hear the lab door open. It's only when a familiar voice speaks that I snap back to reality.

"Sage?"

I whirl around, coming face to face with Joesiah. My heart clenches at the sight of him, a ghost from my past life.

"What are you doing here?" I demand, my voice sharper than I intend.

Joesiah holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "I just want to talk. Please, Sage. Hear me out."

I cross my arms, leaning back against my workbench. "Fine. Talk."

He takes a deep breath. "I know I hurt you. What I did... It's unforgivable. But I've found a way to make it right. To bring you back."

"Back?" I repeat, my voice barely a whisper.

Joesiah nods eagerly. "Back to life. Back home. We can start over, Sage. Have the life we were meant to have."

For a moment, I let myself imagine it. Waking up in my old bed, the sun warming my face. Walking through the town square without fear. A normal life, free from the chaos and danger of the underworld.

But as quickly as the fantasy forms, it crumbles. Because I'm not that Sage anymore.

"Joesiah," I say softly. "That life... it's not mine anymore. I've changed. Grown. The underworld, it's... it's my home now."

His face falls, and I feel a pang of guilt. But I push on, needing him to understand.

"The Sage you knew... she died that day. And the woman I am now, she belongs here."

Joesiah shakes his head, desperation creeping into his voice. "But what about us? What we had?"

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