9. Eve

9

EVE

M y whole body trembles as we put distance between us and... and what just happened. The image of Mordakus transforming, becoming something terrifying and brutal, keeps flashing through my mind. I hold Vincent close, burying my face in his soft fur, trying to calm my racing heart.

We've been walking for hours in complete silence. Mordakus leads the way, his back straight and tense, not once looking back at me. I want to say something, anything, to break this awful quiet, but my throat feels tight, the words stuck somewhere deep inside.

Finally, as the sun starts to set, painting the ruined landscape in shades of orange and red, I manage to find my voice. "Mordakus?" I call out softly, hating how small and scared I sound. "Can we... can we stop for a bit? Please?"

He halts abruptly, turning to face me. His expression is guarded, but I think I see a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Are you hurt?" he asks gruffly.

I shake my head. "No, I just... I need a moment. To process everything."

Mordakus nods curtly, gesturing to a partially collapsed building nearby. "We'll rest there. It'll provide some cover for the night."

As we settle into our makeshift shelter, I try to gather my thoughts. Vincent curls up in my lap, his gentle purring a soothing counterpoint to the chaos in my head. Mordakus busies himself with securing the perimeter, avoiding eye contact.

"You're... you're a demon, right?" I finally manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mordakus freezes, his back to me. For a long moment, he's silent, and I worry I've overstepped. But then he turns, his red eyes meeting mine. "Yes," he says simply. "I am."

I nod. "But you're fighting against the demons," I say, confusion coloring my voice.

Mordakus sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated," he says. "Not all demons are the same. Some of us... some of us want something different. Some of us don't want to wreak havoc across Protheka."

His words hang in the air between us. I think about everything we've been through, every time he's protected me, taught me, kept me safe. Yes, he can be harsh and intimidating, but he's never truly hurt me.

Mordakus grunts in acknowledgement, clearly uncomfortable with my gratitude. But I press on, needing to understand.

"Does it... does it hurt? When you change like that?"

He looks at me sharply, surprise evident in his expression. "You're asking if it hurts me?"

I nod, biting my lip nervously.

Mordakus' face softens almost imperceptibly. "No," he says. "It doesn't hurt. It's... it's like letting go. Embracing a part of myself I usually keep locked away."

I consider this, absently stroking Vincent's fur. "I'm sorry," I say after a moment.

"For what?"

"That you have to keep a part of yourself locked away. That must be... hard."

Mordakus stares at me, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "You're a strange one, Eve. Anyone else would be running for the hills after what they saw today."

I manage a small smile in return. "Well, I'm not anyone else. And besides, where would I run to? I am your prisoner, after all. Am I not?"

As night fully settles in, we share a meager meal of dried rations. The silence between us is different now - not comfortable, exactly, but less tense. As I nibble on my portion, I notice some plants growing in the cracks of the broken stone floor.

"Oh!" I exclaim, excitement momentarily overriding my lingering fear. "Look at this, Mordakus. It's pyla!"

He raises an eyebrow.

I nod eagerly. "It's edible and really nutritious. Here, let me show you."

I carefully harvest some of the leaves, cleaning them as best I can with our limited water supply. "Try it," I say, offering some to Mordakus.

He eyes the leaves skeptically but takes them. As he chews, his eyebrows raise in surprise. "Not bad," he admits. "Your knowledge," he says as I finish explaining the medicinal properties of a particular flower. "It's impressive. Your father must have been a good man."

I feel a warmth in my chest at his praise. "He was the best," I say softly.

Mordakus nods thoughtfully.

"I miss him so much."

To my surprise, Mordakus reaches out, awkwardly patting my shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says gruffly. "For your loss."

His attempt at comfort, clumsy as it is, nearly brings me to tears. I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. "Thank you," I manage.

We lapse into silence again, but it's different now. More... companionable. As I settle down to sleep, Vincent curled up beside me, I find myself watching Mordakus. He sits near the entrance of our shelter, alert and vigilant as always. But there's something different about him now, a softness around the edges that wasn't there before.

"Mordakus?" I say sleepily.

He turns to look at me. "Hm?"

"I'm still glad I'm your prisoner. I don't think I'd have survived this long on my own."

For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something in his eyes - warmth, maybe? But it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"Go to sleep, Eve," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "We've got a long day ahead tomorrow."

As I drift off, I can't help but feel a small spark of hope. Yes, the world is still dangerous and terrifying. Yes, Mordakus is one of them and capable of frightening things. But he's also my protector, my teacher, and maybe, just maybe, becoming my friend.

In the morning, as we prepare to set out, I notice Mordakus watching me with an odd expression.

"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

He shakes his head, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just... you're tougher than you look, you know that?"

His words catch me off guard, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Oh," I say, flustered. "Um, thanks. I'm trying my best."

As we head out into the uncertain day ahead, I feel a newfound sense of determination. I may not be a fighter like Mordakus, but I have my own strengths; my knowledge, my compassion, my ability to find beauty and use in the plants others overlook - these are my weapons.

And with Mordakus by my side, Vincent in my arms, and the vast, broken world stretching out before us, I think that maybe, just maybe, we stand a chance.