A QUEST OF DEATH : Dawning Darkness

21 | Demon (new)

The light in the room was soft, casting a warm glow over Ada's face as she sat up, cradled by blankets, her expression drowsy but curious as she looked at him. Devereaux watched her with a gentle smile, one that he hadn't worn in so long it felt foreign on his face.

This moment, quiet and tender, stretched between them like a fragile thread, and he was careful not to disturb it. She remembered him, finally. That realization pulsed through him with an intensity he didn't quite understand, stirring emotions he thought had faded long ago.

He lifted the spoon, the soup he had prepared still warm, and brought it to her lips, his movements slow and deliberate. She watched him with a look that was both brave and wary, a resilience shaped by her own scars and struggles, yet softened by the quiet trust she was placing in him.

Devereaux's thumb brushed along her jaw, just below her cheek, lingering there as he held her gaze. Ada's gaze softened as she took a sip, her lips curving faintly, the warmth of the broth filling her. There was an innocence in her expression, a vulnerability she tried to hide but couldn't fully mask. 

Her eyes held that faint glimmer of uncertainty, the weight of past fears mingling with something new—hope, fragile and tentative, as though she were afraid it might slip away if she let herself believe.

Another spoonful, lifted with the same careful gentleness, and she leaned forward slightly, trusting him, letting him take care of her. Her lips brushed the edge of the spoon, her eyes flicking up to meet his with each sip, her expression brightening, bit by bit, as though some weight was lifting from her shoulders. And when she smiled—just a faint, fragile smile—something in Devereaux melted. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way—the simple joy of caring, of giving comfort, of being close to someone without the shadows lurking at the edge. Each time he was around her, each time she looked at him with that unwavering trust, it amazed him how the dying remnants of his humanity seemed to breathe, to come alive again. 

This was the warmth he hadn't felt in centuries, a stirring of something that had been locked away, buried beneath layers of penance and regret. To feel emotions again, to be reminded of what it meant to care, to hope... it was as though Ada had brought light into the parts of him he'd long since abandoned. And it reminded him of his Verdict Day.

He remembered the dark, solemn chamber where he'd once stood before Lady Moira, her voice was clear in his memory, sharp and unforgiving, echoing across the stone walls.

"Do you know where you'd go after this?" she had asked, her tone both merciless and oddly sympathetic.

"No... my lady," he had murmured, his eyes lowered in a rare display of humility.

"Well, we call that place The Land of Shadows," she replied, her voice deep with the weight of countless judgments rendered over the centuries. "A place for those who still have ties to the living world—debts owed, wrongs left unsettled, lives left unvalued."

"I did what I did for what they did to me." He clenched his fists, a bitter defiance clawing its way up his throat. "That should settle the debt if we are to worry about any," he'd spat, the fury raw and unfiltered.

"That does not settle anything," Lady Moira had replied, her tone steely. "That's not how this works, Severan."

He'd fallen silent, casting his eyes back to the ground, knowing better than to provoke her any further. Lady Moira, unlike Lady Nova, could be terrifying when enraged. He knew the consequences of her wrath, and despite his pride, he wanted this chance—this one, desperate chance—more than anything.

Taking a measured breath, Lady Moira had continued, her voice softened, though her words struck him harder than any blade. "You... I'd make you immortal, give you a name, a purpose. In return, you will learn what it means to be human, to cherish life, to ignite the desires within you into something kinder. You will guide, protect, understand their worth... through ten thousand tasks. This will take millennia."