Page 9 of The Demon and the Broken Girl

Three other slaves get to their feet, trembling yet determined. The rest remain behind, either too fearful or convinced this is a suicidal mission. We can’t wait for them to debate further. I let Calla lead, guiding us back out into the corridor.

My senses prickle with incoming danger. Shouts echo from somewhere in the estate—Sathrin must have found help, or that messenger’s presence was part of a larger sweep. We move at a jog, passing lines of closed doors. At each intersection, I extend my awareness, trying to detect elf guards ahead of us. In my partially recovered state, I can sense the sparks of life around me, but not as precisely as I’d like.

We reach a pair of grand double doors carved with the Vaerathis crest: a twisted serpent devouring its own tail, signifying their endless pursuit of power. Beyond is a wide hallway, its walls lined with tall windows that overlook an inner courtyard. A swirl of cold morning air slips through the cracks, and I notice that the courtyard is dotted with armed patrols.

“How do we cross that?” Silas asks under his breath, peering through the glass. More than a dozen guards stand posted, some at gates, others on balconies.

I take a breath, feeling my demonic essence churn. “Be ready to run. I’ll create a distraction.”

Calla’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t protest. The slaves behind her shift anxiously, hugging the walls.

I push open the doors to the hallway and step inside. The corridor is large enough to echo with each footstep on polished stone. To the left, open archways lead into the courtyard. Immediately, a pair of guards notices me. One of them barks a question in Elvish, presumably demanding my identity.

I stay silent. Adrenaline floods my veins. My mind sharpens to a single point of focus: break through, or die.

With a sharp motion of my arm, I summon a brief swirl of black energy that crackles around my forearm. The nearest guard’s confidence falters—he obviously wasn’t expecting a demon. The second guard draws his sword and advances.

I flick my wrist, sending a pulse of force that knocks him off his feet, sliding him across the polished floor. The first guard shouts in alarm, and at once the courtyard comes alive with chaos. The other elves scramble, some raising crossbows, others rushing into the hallway, intent on subduing me.

Behind me, Calla and the slaves huddle, uncertain. I raise my voice, “Stay close to the wall. Move when I say.”

She nods, face tense with fear.

Two crossbow-wielding elves appear in the archway. I lunge forward, my steps leaving faint wisps of darkness in my wake. One fires, the bolt whizzing past my ear. The other tries to reload in time, but I’m on him before he can so much as level his aim. I smash the crossbow from his hands and send a knee into his gut, watching him crumple.

A third guard rushes me from the left. The clang of steel resonates when his sword glances off my shoulder armor—armor that remains invisible except for the black markings that shift across my skin. With a snarl, I twist away and slam my palm against his chest, releasing a burst of chilling energy that leaves him gasping for air. He collapses.

“Now!” I yell to Calla. “Go!”

Calla and the others sprint along the wall, heading for a side corridor that likely leads to the main gates. More guards converge from ahead, forming a blockade. I exhale a hiss between my teeth. I need a bigger distraction.

I press my hand against the closest marble pillar and channel a wave of darkness. Fine cracks appear in the stone,spiderwebbing outward with each beat of my heart. With a final push, the pillar snaps and topples, crashing into the courtyard. Dust plumes upward in a suffocating cloud, and the elves scatter, shouting.

That should buy us precious seconds. I race after Calla, leaping over fallen rubble and skirting unconscious guards. She’s halfway down the corridor, Silas clutching her hand. The other three slaves follow, terror fueling their speed.

We’re close to an immense set of iron doors barred from the inside. That must be the main gate. We slow to a stop, confronted by three heavily armored soldiers, each with halberds leveled at us. Their faces are set in grim determination.

One speaks. “You are trespassing in House Vaerathis, demon.” His voice trembles just enough for me to sense his uncertainty. “Surrender, or?—”

I don’t let him finish. My impatience flares, and a whip of black smoke coils around my arm. He lunges, trying to impale me, but I sidestep with inhuman speed. The weapon clangs off the stone floor. In a single fluid motion, I grasp the halberd shaft and jerk it free, ramming the butt into his gut. He staggers, gasping.

The second soldier slashes at me from behind, but I twist away, letting his swing pass harmlessly by. Then I slam my heel into his knee, sending him down hard. The third soldier braces, going for a powerful overhead strike. I narrow my eyes, flipping the halberd in my grip to parry.

The resounding clash reverberates through my arms. He’s strong, but I have centuries of pent-up power fueling me. I force him back, step by step. Finally, he falters, and I knock the weapon aside, delivering a punch to his jaw. He collapses, unconscious.

Calla rushes up, scanning the iron doors. There’s a thick bar across them, secured by reinforced locks. “It’s sealed,” she breathes. “We need a key.”

Or we force it open. I take a moment to sense the wards. There’s a slight magical barrier here, presumably to keep intruders out. But from inside, it’s weaker. I place both hands on the iron and let my power flow. Sparks of dark energy dance across the surface, reacting to some embedded spell. The door vibrates, metal protesting under my unnatural assault.

With a resounding groan, the bar snaps, and the doors swing outward, letting in a rush of icy air. Beyond them lies a stone courtyard leading to a massive outer gate. And beyond that, a glimpse of overcast sky. Freedom.

“Go!” I snap, glancing over my shoulder to ensure more guards aren’t upon us. Calla, Silas, and the three others dart forward. We emerge into the crisp morning, the smell of dew and ever-present gloom of Protheka’s sky confronting us. My entire body tenses, half expecting a volley of arrows or a troop of soldiers waiting.

But for the moment, it’s clear. The fortress’s outer gate is open, probably to allow merchant wagons or messengers. I sense a few guards stationed near the walls, but they haven’t yet realized the scale of the chaos. Not fully.

We dash across the courtyard, footsteps echoing on cobblestones. A startled watchman at the gate shouts something, but we don’t slow. He fumbles for a horn at his belt. I grimace, summoning one final burst of power. A coil of dark magic snaps through the air and knocks the horn from his hand. He yelps and backs away, not daring to engage me directly.

We slip through the gate, hearts pounding, out onto the winding road that leads away from House Vaerathis. The estate’s looming walls stretch behind us like the spines of a great beast.Even from here, I can hear shouts, the clang of alarms. They’ll send pursuers. But we’ve bought ourselves a head start.

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