2. Callista

2

CALLISTA

T he streets are dark as I walk home. I'm sure to keep my pace brisk, watching the straggling few unbothered matrons and demons moving about in the late of night. My heart races as I pass by, not daring to make contact. Ever since Asmodeus returned from Aerasak, he's allowed humans to work for their freedom.

We're no longer imprisoned and forced to sit in the dungeons, especially now that the queen of Galomoleth is a human herself. But, if a demon sees a human that they want, they are free to take them. It's because of this that I keep my head down and my steps purposeful.

I'm not scared of them, but I'm aware that I'm at the bottom of the hierarchy. Demons don't typically think highly of humans, but my black hair and violet eyes have garnered me more than just a second look a time or two before, and I'll be damned if I'm some demon's slave.

I dart into a narrow alleyway, my footsteps echoing against the damp cobblestones. The flickering of the torches that light the streets cast long shadows, making the alley seem even more foreboding. I clutch the strap of my bag closer to my chest, the contents rattling softly within.

Suddenly, a shadow detaches itself from the darkness ahead. My breath catches in my throat as a tall figure steps into the dim light—a demon, unmistakably so, with horns curving back from his forehead and eyes that glow a menacing red in the dark. His gaze locks onto mine, a snarl curling his lips as he bares his teeth.

"Quite late for a human to be wandering alone, don't you think?" His voice is like gravel, harsh and threatening. He steps closer, his towering frame blocking any path of escape. "And here you are, all alone... vulnerable. I can do whatever the fuck I want to you."

I stop in my tracks, fear mixing with a defiant anger that stirs deep within me. "The streets are free for all," I reply, my voice steadier now, emboldened by indignation. "As decreed by Asmodeus himself."

"Free? Perhaps. But empty streets mean no witnesses, no one to hear you scream." He growls, advancing with deliberate, menacing steps. "And you, my dear, have caught my interest."

Despite my racing heart, I lift my chin, meeting his gaze with a fiery one of my own. "Try it then," I challenge, my voice laced with a daring that I partially use to mask my nervousness. "See what happens."

He pauses, seemingly taken aback by my audacity. His smirk fades into a more malicious sneer. "A brave little human," he muses darkly. "This will be enjoyable."

Backing away, I glance frantically around, searching for something, anything to use as a weapon. My eyes catch sight of a small obsidian plant pot by the door of a nearby shop—ornamental but solid.

He notices my fleeting glance and lets out a dark chuckle. "Do you think you can escape me? How amusing."

I give him a smirk that drips in sarcasm as if to silently say ‘Watch me.' The dark amusement that dances in his eyes is laced with the promise of violence, and while he hasn't touched me yet, my luck is sure to run out if I don't act quickly.

The crimson glow from his eyes intensifies, casting an eerie, flickering light, as if he's a predator locking in on his prey. His towering figure looms larger with each step, and the air around us thickens as if his mere presence sucks the oxygen from the space between us.

"You're either quite brave or quite foolish," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the damp cobblestones beneath my feet. His breath is hot, tinged with the faint stench of sulfur that invades my senses and turns my stomach. The snarl remains on his lips, revealing elongated fangs designed to instill fear and inflict pain.

Despite the threat he poses, there's a magnetic allure to his presence. His form is powerfully built, with broad shoulders and a strong, defined torso that hint at immense strength. His features are striking—sharp angles and a chiseled jawline framed by sleek, black horns that enhance his intimidating yet captivating appearance. It's disarming to find myself noting his attractiveness in such a threatening encounter.

I stand my ground, though my heart pounds against my ribs, frantically desperate to escape its cage. His shadow envelops me, the coldness of his demonic aura brushing against my skin. I can almost feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with dark intentions, as he leans closer, his face just inches from mine.

"What do you plan to do, little human?" His hand reaches out, hand extended, moving slowly towards my face as if to caress it. He instead runs a finger down my jawline, making me shiver despite the threat looming greater with every chance I give him to get close to me.

I tilt my head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth despite the pounding fear. "Brave enough to stand here, foolish enough to think you'd recognize the fucking difference," I shoot back, my voice laced with a snarky edge. In that moment, caught between fear and a strange fascination, I brace myself for his next move.

I see it before it happens, the flash of decision that crosses his eyes. My heart is threatening to fly out of my chest as I wait for the right moment.

As he lunges toward me, I make my move. I dart to the side, grab the obsidian pot, and swing with all my might. It connects with a heavy thud against his head, and he staggers back, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow. He crumbles to the ground, angrily grabbing his head.

Seizing the moment, I sprint from the alley, my legs pumping as I weave through the streets. I don't stop running until I reach the safety of my small, rundown shack, slamming the door shut behind me and sliding the bolt into place. Leaning against the door, I try to catch my breath, my body shaking from the terrifying encounter.

Tonight was a narrow escape, a stark reminder of the peril I live in every day. As I sink to the floor, the reality of my situation settles in deeper. I'm free, but freedom in this demon-dominated world is always under threat. I need a plan, not just to survive but to live without the constant shadow of fear.