Page 25 of Incarnate

Something in me will not rest until I’ve heard what he has to say about all of this.

The effect is immediate once my finger is naked. It's like someone opened a window in a room that's been sealed for weeks. The hum in my chest unfurls into a full, resonant vibration that reaches my fingertips, my scalp, the arches of my feet. My skin prickles with goosebumps.

I lie there, breathing, letting it wash through me. Letting him in.

He finds me within seconds.

"Nara…"

I close my eyes. His voice doesn't echo this time. It's closer, more present, as if he's standing at the foot of my bed and speaking softly.

"Yes, my dear. Feel it… feel what you need…"

A shudder moves through me, something far more dangerous than fear. My god I am weak to this demon.

"Why are you silent? Or do you just want to hear me?"

"I don't know what decision to make," I whisper, not sure he can hear me. I'm not sure if this goes both ways or if I'm just speaking into the dark.

A pause. "About what?"

He heard me. My heart hammers, feeling as if I’m finally being properly perceived in this place. What if he is the only one that truly cares? I frown, because why would that be the case? How could I possibly be in a situation where the demonic ruler of this Realm is my true safety?

“About who to trust.”

"Tell me where you are. Tell me, and I will come for you. Anyone involved will be left unharmed, if you're the one to come to me.”

"I can't do that."

"Come to Nightfell. Or any Devotion. And I will be there. Or leave the ring off for a little while longer.”

So can he not immediately locate me? Is that something that appears over time? His voice is so certain, too. So steady. As if this is simple, as if the only thing standing between us is stubbornness.

By everything that is wrong with the world, I want to tell him where I am. To have that voice soothe me in person, just as it momentarily did earlier in the day. As the ache in my chest turns into something more dominating, the ring hovers near my naked finger, my hands shaking. I’m utterly called to him, but what if—I slide the ring back on.

The silence crashes over me like cold water, my hand pressing against my sternum as if I can push the feeling back in.

I lie there for a long time.

I think about a pantheon I can't remember. I think about how I removed myself from this Realm. I think about a castle I can see from my window where a demon king is lying awake, too, because he felt me and then I disappeared again. I think about how I can help my friends, if they even are my friends, and then go to him. Not as a prisoner. But on my own terms, with my own choice, the way it should have been from the beginning. About how I recall none of that history and it’s all being told to me.

Tears stream down my cheeks until I fall asleep, lost on who I am in this underworld.

K A L L Ú M

The vanum bleed a substance that is not blood.

It is thicker, darker, and does not wash from skin so much as absorb, sinking into the pores like ink into parchment and sickening whoever receives that damage for a time.

I remove the last of my armor after slaying more. Their blood burns my flesh, but that’s as far as the damage goes.

It is maddening to deal with them while knowing that Nara is completely exposed out there. My priority right now is utterly securing every border, ensuring that the ability to leave is next to impossible.

She came to me the previous night, removing whatever is keeping her hidden from me. It’s enraging to know she’s close and yet I cannot seem to hone that in any further.

It’s made worse that Nightfell is quiet at this hour. The castle breathes in its own way with settling stones, shifting weight, the low groan of architecture that has stood for centuries.

A servant approaches with a basin of warm water and cloths. She is a lesser demon with gray skin, sharp ears, tattoos climbing from her shoulders to her jaw. She kneels, sets the basin at my feet, and bows low enough that I can see the knobs of her spine through her uniform.