Devil

Azlynn’s P.O.V.

Delilah’s eyes shimmered with silver madness, lips curled in that eternal smile of half-truths. She didn’t look like the madwoman I met in the west earlier.

My body stayed frozen, paralyzed by the weight of everything crumbling around me. The air hissed as Delilah clicked her tongue.

“Master Demrid didn’t die that night. I saved him from the claws of the Alpha king, providing him with what he needed at that time.”

She narrated the tale of her mastery, but my breath hitched at the sight of Alicia. My friend, my shield, my witchy companion. But the warmth in her presence was cold now as her aura dampened, her face devoid of the usual spark.

“What are you doing here, Alicia? Where is Xavion?”

Firing multiple questions in a quick succession, I tried to catch a clue about the outside world.

“Why did you come alone?”

But instead of Alicia, Delilah twirled a strand of her curly hair and gave a breathy laugh. She stepped forward, like she was performing on a stage.