Page 31 of The Demon's Tongue

With a nod, I hold out my hand and show off the pulsing crystal once more. Calix takes it within his fingers and pockets it with a hum.

I stand there, my heart still racing from the encounter with Sylas. The silence stretches between Calix and me, thick with unspoken tension. His red eyes bore into mine, searching for something I'm not sure I understand.

Finally, Calix breaks the quiet. "So, little soul-snatcher," he says, his tone casual but with an unmistakable edge. "Who's the lucky winner of your final crystal?"

I don't hesitate. The answer's been burning inside me since the moment I made this deal. "Miss Pickett," I say, my voice firm and resolute. "She'll have that pleasure."

Calix's eyebrows shoot up, approval flickering across his face. "Miss Pickett? The charming proprietress of your former establishment?"

"The very same." I nod, clenching my fists. "She's the reason I'm here. She's the one who sold me, who's sold countless others. It's time she pays for what she's done."

A slow, wicked grin spreads across Calix's face. "My, my. Aren't you full of surprises? I expected you to go after some hapless guard or another client. But Miss Pickett? That's... ambitious."

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze steadily. "Is that a problem?"

He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Problem? Quite the contrary. It's delightful. But tell me, how do you plan to get to her?"

Swallowing hard, I take a glimpse down at Sylas' body. "I'm free now. I don't have to submit to him anymore." I meet Calix's gaze head-on. "I don't have to submit to anyone."

His eyes narrow at me, but his smile lingers. "That's the spirit, my dear human."

17

GENEVA

Imake my way down to the human women's living quarters, somewhat numb by the murder I just committed. He deserved it, just like the drunken dark elf that came before him. And now, his soul belongs to Calix.

Once I reach the living quarters, the stale air hits me like a wall, thick with the scent of unwashed bodies and despair.

Pushing open the heavy door, I'm greeted by the sight of dozens of women crammed into a space far too small for comfort. Bunk beds are stacked three high, leaving barely enough room to walk between them. Tired eyes turn to me as I enter, curiosity mingling with wariness.

"Hello, everyone," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "Sylas is dead. We're free."

A ripple of disbelief runs through the room. One woman, her face gaunt and eyes hollow, shakes her head. "Don't joke about such things, Geneva. It's cruel."

"I'm not joking," I insist, holding my ground. "I saw it with my own eyes. He's gone, and we don't have to stay here anymore."

Another woman, younger than me with tear-stained cheeks, pipes up. "But... but where would we go? This is all we know."

I take a deep breath, scanning the room. Some faces show hope, others fear, and many simply look blank, as if they can't process what I'm saying. Has it been so long since they've known freedom?

"Look," I say, softening my tone, "I know it's hard to believe. But if you stay here, it's only a matter of time before someone else takes Sylas's place. Do you really want to risk that?"

A murmur runs through the group. I see a few nods, a few more shaking heads.

An older woman, her hair streaked with gray, stands up. "I believe you, child. And I, for one, am not staying to find out what comes next."

Her words seem to break a spell. Suddenly, the room is alive with movement and whispered conversations. Some women begin gathering what few possessions they have, while others remain rooted to their beds, fear evident in their eyes.

As I turn to leave, a hand catches my arm. It's the young girl with tear-stained cheeks. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. As I make my way out of the room, I hear the sounds of movement behind me. Some are escaping, seizing their chance at freedom. Others will stay, too afraid to venture into the unknown.

Poor girls, I think to myself. They're too brainwashed by the dark elf's lies to seek a better life for themselves.

I trudge along the dirt paths leading back to Pythros, my feet aching with every step. The weight of what I've done—and what I still need to do—hangs heavy on my shoulders. As I approach the city gates, I spot a caravan of carriages preparing to enter. Perfect.

Slipping between two ornate coaches, I blend in with the bustling crowd as equus lead the way into the city. The dark elf guards at the gate barely glance our way, too preoccupied with inspecting cargo to notice a lone human girl.

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