Page 92 of Demon Monster's Little Human

It whispers my name.

Not Liora.

"Amara."

39

DAIN

The moment the air shifts, I know.

It’s here.

The stench of rot and ruin slides over my skin like oil, thick and cloying. The trees tremble, their branches twisting in unnatural angles. The shadows lengthen, creeping toward us with a hunger that isn't just felt, it's alive.

I shove Liora behind me.

"Stay close,"I order, my voice rough, raw.

She barely reacts. Her body is stiff, her breath ragged. I don't need to turn around to see her wide eyes, her hands clutched at her temples. The thing is speaking to her. Whispering in that language.

"Amara."

Her gasp cuts through me like a blade.

My stomach drops.

I whip around, gripping her arms. "Don't listen to it."

She shudders, shaking her head, but something in her cracks open. The magic in her veins, I feel it surge, flickering between us like a tether being pulled too tight.

The presence presses in.

Shadows erupt, clawing through the air. I react on instinct, lunging, slicing through the darkness.

It splits apart. But it does not die.

It never dies.

Liora screams.

Not from pain. From something worse.

Her body jerks violently, her limbs trembling as her mind is dragged under. I feel it. The pull, the invasion, the suffocating force of memories that don’t belong to her.

Or maybe they do.

Because I see them too.

The past clashes into me like a war hammer to the chest.

The temple. The runes. The golden light flickering across stone.

My own voice, raw with betrayal, roaring through the hall.

A woman—standing before me, hands shaking, magic coiling around her fingers.

"Forgive me."

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