Page 103 of Demon Monster's Little Human

But I do.

The bond was not to be severed, never to be touched. It is something ancient, something tied to blood and fate. If she breaks it, if she severs what binds us, she will destroy herself in the process.

I won’t let her.

My wings cut through the wind, propelling me forward as I hunt her through the endless stretch of the forest. Her scent is everywhere, rain and fire, magic and blood. It’s inside me, burned into my skin, rooted in my very bones.

She cannot escape.

She belongs to me.

I find her at the edge of a ruined shrine.

The structure is old, older than both of us. Carved stone columns rise like skeletal remains, their surfaces etched with sigils I don’t recognize. The air is thick with magic, humming with an unnatural pulse. A place of power.

There she is.

Liora stands in the center of it all, her body trembling, arms raised as she speaks words that no longer sound like her own.

The magic swirls around her, dark and frenzied, wrapping around her body like phantom chains. The ritual is incomplete, the energy unstable. I can see it in the way her fingers shake, in the sweat beading along her brow.

My fury explodes.

I move before I can stop myself, storming into the circle, reaching for her.

“Liora!”

She startles, her concentration snapping as I grab her wrist. The moment my fingers close around her, the magic reacts.

A pulse of power erupts between us, violent and searing, knocking my breath from me.

The world tilts, no. It fractures.

Everything shatters around me in a storm of color and sound, pulling me under, dragging me through time itself.

I see it.

The vision is not gentle.

It tears into me, rips me apart.

I see myself, not as I am now, but as I was.

A prisoner.

Chained, bound, broken.

Magic coils around my wrists, scorching through my veins, locking me in place. I struggle, muscles straining against invisible bonds, but they don’t break. They never break.

Footsteps echo in the darkness.

She appears.

Amara.

She steps into the dim glow of candlelight, her violet robes whispering against the stone, her hands trembling as she approaches me.

I hate her. I love her.

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