"If anything happens to him..." I can't finish the thought. The possibility is too vast, too terrible to give voice to.
"It won't," Domno promises, and somehow, despite everything, I want to believe him one last time.
24
DOMNO
"I'm coming with you." Esalyn rises to her feet, tears still streaking her face but determination hardening her jaw.
"No." The word leaves me with finality. I soften slightly at the fury that flashes in her eyes. "You'll slow me down."
"He's my son?—"
"And I move faster alone." I cut her off, scanning the temple floor for signs of Erisen's passage. "I've tracked prey across wastelands that would kill most demons. I can find him."
Her hands ball into fists at her sides, knuckles still bloody from beating the stone floor. "If this is some trick?—"
"It's not." My voice drops lower, an edge of danger I haven't allowed her to hear before. "I will bring him back to you. Wait here."
Before she can argue further, I'm gone, slipping through the temple entrance like a shadow detaching from deeper darkness. The night air hits my face, carrying the ever-present scent of ash and sulfur that clings to Velzaroth. But beneath it—there—the faintest trace of Erisen. Not his physical scent, but something else. The lingering trace of magic that clings to half-demonchildren, invisible to most but unmistakable to someone who's spent years hunting.
I drop to a crouch, examining the soft earth outside the temple. Small footprints, too light to be an adult's. A larger set alongside—boots, expensive ones. The pattern is familiar in a way that crawls cold down my spine.
Something primal shifts inside me, awakening from long dormancy. The predator I spent years becoming before Zevan's death. The hunter that earned both fear and coin throughout Aerasak's darkest corners. The demon I thought died with my brother.
But it didn't die. It was just waiting for something worth fighting for.
I follow the tracks down the craggy path, my movements fluid and soundless despite my size. Each print tells a story—Erisen walking willingly at first, then being carried. No signs of struggle. He trusted whoever took him.
Dawn bleeds across the eastern sky as I reach the edge of Velzaroth's blighted coast. The tracks end at a narrow dock, long abandoned by honest traders. Someone took a boat. I memorize every detail—the boat's weight, the distinctive chip in the pier post where it was moored, the faint traces of magic lingering like oil on water.
Without hesitation, I cut east along the coast, pushing my body to speeds I haven't attempted in years. My muscles burn with effort, but the pain feels distant, unimportant. Time becomes meaningless. Four hours pass before I reach the next settlement, a collection of ramshackle buildings clinging to the cliffside like barnacles, too pathetic to even have a name.
I don't bother with pleasantries. I kick open the door of the only tavern, sending it crashing against the inner wall. Conversations die mid-sentence. The patrons—smugglers, vagabonds, and worse—turn to stare. Their eyes widen at thesight of me, a full-blooded demon with murder written across his face.
"I'm tracking a mark," I say, my voice a low rumble that promises violence. "A half demon child. With a hunter. Have you seen them?"
Silence meets me, broken only by the sound of a glass being set down too carefully. I scan the room, marking each face, each potential threat. My hand rests casually on the hilt of my blade.
"I won't ask again."
An old man in the corner shifts slightly, weathered face betraying nothing but eyes that know too much. I'm beside him before he can blink, my hand closing around his throat.
"Tell me."
"South," he wheezes, hands fluttering uselessly against my grip. "Heard they were going to Vorrak's estate."
The name hits like a physical blow. I should have known. The bounty was never about Esalyn. It was about the boy. They left her to take him.
"Give me a map," I growl out, and he quickly draws me a rough location. It'll do until I'm closer.
I release the old man and turn away, my mind already racing ahead. Vorrak's estate is three days' hard travel, less if I don't stop. I throw a gold coin on the table—payment for information that just might save Erisen's life.
Every second Erisen is gone, panic burrows deeper under my skin like a parasite. But it's not just fear for Esalyn's grief that drives me—it's my own. Somewhere between carved wooden birds and skipped stones along the shore, that quiet boy with golden eyes became mine.
I see Zevan in his curious glances, in the way his small face lights up at new discoveries. I feel my brother's presence in Erisen's careful drawings, in his soft questions about the world.
But it's more than that. He's not just a replacement for my brother. I've come to learn and enjoy all the little things that make Erisen so special.
