23.| A Daemon In The Hollows

I tore my gaze from the severed limb, pressing myself against the cold stone wall. No doubt she'd already sensed my presence. Brilliant work, Zayn. I deserved a fucking crown for being the realm's most incompetent spy.

Pull yourself together, you've got this. I tried to steel myself. If I was going to surpass my past life's failures, I had to get my shit together now. The way this imposter Anyae moved, she could've rounded that corner and gutted me before I drew another breath. She'd known I was here all along, lurking like an amateur.

Bracing myself, I inhaled the coppery scent of blood and risked another glance. Crewcut still dangled in the air, Anyae's pale fingers clamped around his throat tightly. His eyes bulged, the flesh of his neck bunching as though she were crushing a ripe plum.

And... her gaze pierced mine, her lips curling into a smile. This time, I refused to cower. I met her stare, even as my heart hammered against my ribs like a caged beast seeking freedom.

Anyae turned back to her prey as Crewcut's gurgling grew weaker, his eyes rolling back. "I've always despised vermin like you," she purred, not a shred of mercy in her voice. Then she hurled him upward, as casual as tossing away garbage.

Crimson tendrils, honed to razor-sharp points, erupted from her back—phasing through her clothes without leaving a single tear—and struck with the speed of a viper. Crewcut's body split in two, a fountain of guts raining down. I watched, transfixed in horror, as Anyae tilted her head back, basking in the crimson downpour as though it were a blessed storm sent by the dark gods themselves.

Still, I held my ground, neither advancing nor retreating. Dad's hunting lessons echoed in my mind—monsters and beasts were cut from the same cloth. "Show fear to a predator," he'd say, "and you might as well paint yourself as prey. Stand tall, and even the fiercest beast will think twice."

When the grisly rain finally ceased, Anyae lowered her head and wiped her face clean. "What? Fancy being next?"

I swallowed hard, forcing steel into my voice. "Hardly. What kind of question is that?"

She let out a cold laugh. "Bold words for someone who just watched me slice a man in two."

True. She was absolutely right. However...

"If you wanted to hurt me, you'd have done it the moment you sensed me following you," I said, stepping fully into the open. "I saw you die."

"Perhaps you saw wrong," Anyae hummed, her tone mocking.

I took a step toward her, emboldened. "And Anyae couldn't speak. She was mute."

"People can learn to talk, or perhaps I was pretending all along."

"But I heard what you said. You referred to Anyae as if she wasn't yourself." Finally, I stopped mere inches from where she stood. She glanced over her shoulder, those crimson tendrils retreating into her back. Her long ivory hair shortened, morphing into the familiar black, choppy cut I knew. She turned to face me fully.

For a moment, she just stared. Then, without warning, she charged.

I moved to activate Reckless Valor, but a glance at the top left corner of my vision revealed I had three minutes left on the cooldown. Shit.

When she was a foot away, she leapt, the ground cracking beneath the force of her push. I ducked and rolled across the cement, relying on instinct. But instead of the expected pain, something slithered around my waist, yanking me skyward with terrifying speed.

Air rushed past my face as I was yanked skyward, a yell building in my throat only to be silenced by a firm hand. The world spun dizzyingly before settling. We now perched atop the squat building, Anyae's crimson tendril still coiled around my waist, her palm pressed firmly over my mouth.

"Shhh," she breathed in my ear, her voice a whisper of smooth silk. "You don't want them thinking you're the killer, do you?" I shook my head, pulse racing. "Stay quiet." Anyae warned.

I nodded, and she slowly withdrew her hand. "Mind getting this off me?" I hissed, gesturing to the tendril. With a thought, she retracted it, leaving me feeling oddly bereft.

Below, three Punishers emerged from the thrall infirmary building, immediately spotting Crewcut's bisected corpse.

"What in the hells happened here?" one growled, eyeing his companions suspiciously.

The second offered a half-hearted shrug. "Damned if I know. These Thralls are animals. Kill each other without blinking."

I shifted my gaze left, noticing the third Punisher studying the gruesome scene. "This wasn't a Thrall," he declared, voice heavy with certainty. "A Daemon did this. No Thrall could slice someone clean in half. They don't get weapons unless they're in the arena."

"Should we alert Bryard? Have all the barracks searched?" the first Punisher asked, tension evident in his voice.

The third nodded slowly. "We move quietly. It could be a vessel."

[System Notification: You have unlocked 1 new term!]

"By the true All Mother's grace," the second Punisher muttered, his eyes darting nervously. "It could be any one of those damn animals." 

Anyae's hand pressed me flat against the rooftop, out of sight. My mind raced. If this imposter Anyae was truly a Daemon, why hide among Thralls? She could've easily dispatched these three Punishers before they raised the alarm. I glanced between her and the Punishers, questions burning in my throat.

"Where's Bryard?" the third Punisher asked, finally tearing his gaze from Crewcut's remains. "Get this mess cleaned up before the Thralls see. Scared Thralls mean no work."

The first Punisher scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Think he's in the prayer keep."

A reminder notification flashed in the corner of my vision: 'Understand The Punishers' Plight.' The game wanted me to follow them again. Just my damn luck.

When the cleanup was finished and the Punishers dispersed, each with their own task, I turned to Anyae.

"So what's your next move?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her eyes narrowed as she sized me up. "Fascinating? I just butchered someone, and you're more concerned about me getting caught? What an odd creature you are."

"Look," I hissed, frustration creeping into my tone, "they've seen me help... Anyae." The name felt like ash in my mouth, knowing the real Anyae no longer existed. "If you're caught, they'll assume I'm involved."

She let out a laugh, a sound both intoxicating and chilling, like poisoned honey. "Ah, so it's all about self-preservation? Not worried that I," she purred, leaning in close enough that I could feel her breath on my skin. I jerked back, wary of those lethal tendrils. "Could obliterate this entire camp to ashes on a whim without breaking a sweat?"

I scoffed, finding a spark of bravado. "If you could do that, you would have already. You're playing some other game here."

Anyae rose, her smirk a blade's edge. "Maybe I'm just savoring the anticipation. Boredom can be a powerful motivator. Who can say?"

She glided towards the edge of the building, and without warning, she stepped off, her body arcing in a perfect flip as she plummeted.

Heart in my throat, I scrambled to the edge, peering down at the dirt path below. But there was no sign of Anyae—she had vanished as if she'd never existed at all, leaving me with more questions than answers and a growing sense that I was in way over my head.