Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Amara's POV

I should have run.

Every instinct in this borrowed body screamed at me to turn and flee, to put as much distance between myself and the thing wearing the king's face as possible. But my feet would not move. My legs felt like they had been turned to stone.

The demon stared at me through Alaric's golden eyes, and those eyes were no longer his. They had turned completely black, like staring into an endless void. The torches around the throne room flickered wildly, casting twisted shadows that seemed to reach for me with hungry fingers.

"You thought you could hide from me," the demon hissed, its voice layered with something ancient and terrible. "You thought wearing the flesh of a dead wolf would protect you from my sight."

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might tear through my ribs. But beneath the terror, something else stirred. Anger. The same anger that had burned in me when Michael betrayed me, when I found my coven slaughtered.

I had died once already. What more could this thing take from me?

"Who are you?" I heard myself ask. My voice shook, but the words came out clear.

The demon laughed again, a sound like breaking glass and grinding bones. Alaric's body moved forward, descending the steps of the throne with unnatural grace. Each footstep echoed through the hall like a death knell.

"Who am I?" It tilted the king's head, studying me like I was some fascinating insect. "I am older than your pathetic coven. Older than this kingdom. Older than the very magic your ancestors tried to use to seal me away."

The mention of my ancestors sent ice through my veins. This thing knew about the Oris Coven. It knew about the ancient sealing magic.

"You were sealed," I said, forcing myself to stand straighter despite my trembling knees. "My people locked you away centuries ago."

"And yet here I am." The demon spread Alaric's arms wide, a mocking gesture. "Your ancestors were fools. They thought they could contain me with their pretty moon spells and blood rituals. All they did was delay the inevitable."

It took another step closer. The temperature in the room dropped so fast that frost began to form on the stone floor. My breath came out in white clouds.

"But you," the demon continued, its black eyes fixed on me with terrible intensity. "You are something special. A witch soul trapped in wolf flesh. Do you know how rare that is? How delicious?"

Nausea rolled through my stomach. I wanted to back away, but I forced myself to hold my ground. If I showed weakness now, this thing would devour me whole.

"How did you get inside him?" I demanded. My witch senses were screaming at me, trying to understand the dark magic woven around Alaric's body. This was not a simple possession. This was something far more complex, far more permanent.

The demon's smile widened, stretching Alaric's mouth too far, showing too many teeth.

"Curious little witch. Always asking questions. That is what got your people killed, you know. Too many questions. Too much poking into things they should have left alone."

My hands clenched into fists. "Answer me."

"Or what?" The demon moved faster than should have been possible. One moment it stood several feet away. The next, it was right in front of me, Alaric's face inches from mine. "You will curse me? Seal me away again? With what power, little witch? I can smell the weakness in your blood. You drained yourself for some worthless alpha who threw you away like garbage."

The words hit harder than any physical blow. Because they were true. I had given everything to Michael, and it had left me hollow.

But I was not that same foolish girl anymore.

"I am still standing," I said quietly. "You have not broken me yet."

Something flickered in those black eyes. Surprise, perhaps. Or interest.

"Brave words from someone who died begging for mercy." The demon circled me slowly, like a wolf stalking wounded prey. "I was there, you know. I watched through his eyes as your precious Michael drove that blade into your heart. I tasted your despair."

My blood turned to ice. "You were inside Michael?"

"Not inside." The demon laughed. "I whispered to him. Guided him. Showed him the path to power. All he had to do was give me what I needed. And he was so eager to please."

Horror crashed over me in waves. Michael had not just betrayed me. He had made a deal with this demon. He had sold his soul, and mine, and my entire coven for power.

"Why?" The word came out broken. "Why my people? What did you need from them?"

The demon stopped circling. It leaned close, its breath cold against my ear.

"Their deaths opened a door. A crack in the seal your ancestors built. And when you died clutching that amulet, when your soul crossed through the veil and came back, you opened it wider." Black eyes gleamed with malicious joy. "You helped free me, little witch. Every spell you cast for that worthless alpha weakened the barrier. Every piece of yourself you gave away made it easier for me to slip through."

No. No, that could not be true.

But the demon's words rang with horrible certainty. I had done this. My forbidden magic, my desperate attempt to help Michael, had given this thing exactly what it needed.

I had helped destroy my own people.

"Now," the demon said, its voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Let me ask you a question. Why did the Moon Goddess send you back? What does she think you can do against me?"

I met those black eyes, even though looking into them felt like staring into my own grave.

"I am going to destroy you," I said. "Whatever it takes. However long it takes. I will find a way to rip you out of him and send you back to whatever hell you crawled out of."

The demon stared at me for a long, terrible moment.

Then it smiled.

"I was hoping you would say that."