Page 18 of Demon Monster's Little Human

Water. A trickle.

Faint. Distant. But real.

I inhale. “Do you hear that?”

Dain doesn’t look at me. But his wings twitch, head tilting slightly.

“Yes.”

Relief rushes through me.

We found it.

Suddenly, his body stiffens.

My relief turns cold.

He says nothing, but his gaze narrows into the darkness ahead. Not at the stream.

At something else. I follow his line of sight.

I go still.

A glow flickers in the distance, torchlight reflecting off metal, movement, figures.

Not creatures. Not beasts.

Dark elves.

An entire encampment.

They aren’t alone. There are humans, too.

Their backs are bent, chained, shackled, dragging something from the depths of the stone.

Slaves. Like I once was. Like I still am.

I cannot breathe. Dain isn’t looking at them. He’s looking at me. And I do not like the way he watches me.

It’s as if he knows what’s running in my head and he already disapproves.

8

DAIN

The purna artifact hums.

I feel it like a pressure in my skull, something sharp and invasive, pressing against the edges of my magic like grasping fingers. The closer I focus, the stronger it gets—a foreign pulse, something meant to seek, meant to track.

They're hunting me.

Liora hasn’t noticed.

She’s too distracted.

I watch her—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twitch against her sides. The way her breath changes as she looks at the slaves.

She’s not thinking.

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