The Demon’s Tongue (Worlds of Protheka)

15. Calix

15

CALIX

S ylas's fingers curl around the hem of Geneva's dress, and he pulls it away with the casualness of someone unwrapping a gift. My blood simmers, the sight of his dark fingers on her pale skin igniting a surge of anger that threatens to boil over. She stiffens, but doesn't back down.

"I'm not yours to play with," she says, her voice steady despite the fear in her wide eyes. She shudders every time his hand grazes across her skin, each touch making my rage more difficult to contain.

Who does he think he is, touching her like this? That's my property. She's mine .

Sylas's laughter is cold and sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. "Oh, but you are. I bought you for a reason, girl. Now, show me your talents."

She recoils as his hand moves down to her waist, her eyes narrowing with a defiance that ignites something primal within me. "No." Her voice is firm, despite the trembling of her frame.

The room's atmosphere thickens, tension coiling around us. I can feel my own power stirring, a dark energy that responds to her resistance. Sylas's smug grin widens, his fingers tightening on her waist.

Sylas raises his arm and strikes her on the cheek. The slap echoes through the chamber, and she stumbles, a red mark blooming on her skin. I grip the edge of my hidden perch, nails digging into the wood, an urge to intervene surging within me.

But I can't , I remind myself. There's nothing I can do to help her.

"You'll learn your place," he growls, his tone dripping with malice. He grabs her wrist, yanking her closer with a force that makes my blood boil, the dark energy within me churning.

Geneva struggles against him, pushing at his chest with every ounce of her strength. "I said no!" Her voice trembles but carries a fierce determination that ignites a flicker of admiration in me.

His eyes flash with fury once more, and he yanks her arm harder, causing her to cry out. "You're nothing but a possession, stupid human. Mine to command. The sooner you learn that, the better."

She grits her teeth, tears welling up but refusing to fall. "I'd rather die."

Sylas smirks, leaning in close. "That can be arranged."

Despite my instincts urging me to intervene, I force myself to stay put. Geneva must handle this on her own to prove her strength. The challenge is hers to face, even if every fiber of my being wants to rip Sylas's arm off for touching her.

Sylas’s fingers linger on Geneva’s skin, exposing her breasts with deliberate slowness. A pang of something unfamiliar hits me—concern for a mortal. It's unsettling, and I tighten my grip on the railing, watching intently.

Fight him off, little human. I know you have it in you.

“You have fire, I’ll give you that,” Sylas says, his voice dripping with condescension. “But fire can be tamed. Dark elves have a lot of power, girl. I could crush you with my magic until you're nothing more than a speck on the ground.”

"So what? I'd rather that fate than to give in to you." Geneva’s eyes flash with defiance as she lifts her chin up a little higher. “I won’t be tamed.”

Sylas’s laughter fills the room, dark and cruel. “We’ll see about that.” His hands forcefully trail lower, gripping at her waist and pulling her close to his body.

I grit my teeth, my jaw clenching. It takes significant self-control to resist stepping in. This is a crucial test for her. She needs to show she’s not just another frightened girl.

Geneva's eyes flash with fear, but there's a world of fury in those green depths, too. She struggles against his hold, her movements sharp and determined. The defiance in her stance is palpable, a spark of resistance that refuses to be quenched. Her breath comes in short, angry bursts, and I can see the resolve harden in her eyes.

Geneva suddenly jerks back, her eyes narrowing. She pushes at his chest, all while he laughs at her. “Don’t touch me!”

Sylas’s expression hardens. He shoves Geneva back until her body hits the edge of his desk. The sight surprises me. He's struggling against the tiny human. And here I thought dark elves were the superior beings?

“Who do you think you are, human? You don’t get to dictate terms here.”

“I’m not your property!” she snaps, her voice firm despite the tremor I can see in her hands. "I never was! I don't care how much money you spent on me. I am not yours!"

He grabs her arm, yanking her closer. Fury emanates off of him. “You are whatever I say you are.”

I sense her fear, but also her resolve. She’s holding her ground, refusing to be broken. It’s almost admirable. Almost.

But she needs to act. Sylas is right; dark elves are powerful beings. And I'm not sure how much longer I can withstand this, waiting here in the shadows for her to make the right choice.

“Stop!” she demands, trying to kick him as he pins her against the desk. "Stop touching me!"

Sylas’s eyes narrow, forcing his knee between her legs to widen them. “Or what?”

Geneva doesn’t flinch. “You'll regret this, you stupid bastard."

With a defiant glare, she spits in his face. His sneer deepens, and he wipes away the spit with the back of his hand. It's clear that the audacity of her action fuels his anger. He uses the same hand to slap her again, harder this time. “Bold words for a girl in your position,” he snarls.

I can feel the intensity of the moment building, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. Geneva's resolve is unyielding, even as her cheek reddens from the blow. I grit my teeth, disgusted by Sylas's pathetic attempts at trying to subdue her.

If he had a speck of the power he says he has, he would have overwhelmed her by now. But he's all talk, no bite. That's unfortunately common amongst most of the dark elf khuzuth nowadays.

Sylas forces her onto the ground, pinning her down by the wrists. She lets out a yelp as her back lands on the ground, the wind escaping her lungs. His weight crushes her, and for a moment, I consider stepping in. But then I see the spark in her eyes. She’s not done yet.

"Get off me!" Geneva struggles, kicking and twisting, trying to free her hands. Her eyes blaze with defiance, even as pain contorts her face.

"Silence!" Sylas snaps, tightening his grip on her wrists. "You’re mine, remember?" His voice drips with possessive arrogance, a sickening reminder of the power he holds over her. But it's waning. I can tell.

I watch, my jaw clenched. The scene is almost unbearable, but I can't tear my eyes away from her. Her spirit is fierce, unyielding. There's something magnetic about her fight, something that calls to me in a way I can't ignore.

She grits her teeth, her eyes darting to her pocket. With a sudden surge of strength, she twists her body, managing to free one hand just enough to reach inside.

"You’ll regret this. I fucking told you!" she hisses, pulling out the crystal.

Sylas's eyes widen, a flicker of fear crossing his arrogant features. "What are you?—"

Geneva's focus sharpens on the crystal, her face contorted with fierce concentration. The air around us crackles with an electric intensity, and I can feel the shift in power. Sylas's grip falters, his confidence wavering for the first time.

"What is this?" Sylas gasps, his voice tinged with panic. "What are you doing?"

"Ending this," Geneva says through gritted teeth. "Ending you ."

The crystal glows, casting an eerie light across the room. Sylas's eyes roll back, and he claws at his throat, gasping for air. A misty essence begins to seep from his mouth, swirling in the air like smoke. His soul, visible now, is drawn toward the crystal, being sucked into its depths. The entire scene is mesmerizing, a testament to the raw power Geneva wields.

A sick satisfaction fills up my chest. Another soul captured. Another life claimed.

"No!" Sylas's voice is barely a whisper now, drenched in terror. His body convulses violently, then goes limp, crumpling on top of Geneva.

She groans, struggling against his dead weight until his corpse topples to the floor beside her with a thud. I exhale a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, the tension slowly easing from my shoulders.

You've done it again, my little human , I think victoriously to myself. You've captured the soul of the dark elf who made you a slave.