Demonbound

10

Ashen stared at his reflection.

The mirror in Lumi’s room was tall and narrow, framed in dark wood, its surface slightly warped with age. Candlelight flickered across it, bending the image just enough to make it feel unreal.

He tilted his head.

So this was it.

A human body.

Largely intact.

Largely disappointing.

He lifted a hand and studied it closely. Pale skin. Long fingers. The nails had darkened slightly, tapering into sharper points than Lumi’s ever had, but nothing dramatic. No claws. No scales. No exposed infernal markings.

“Tch.”

His eyes were the only immediate giveaway.

Dark gold.

Not glowing. Not flaring.

Just… wrong.

Predatory.

Ancient.

Horns curved from his temples, smooth and black, arcing backward along his skull. Not massive. Not regal. Smaller than his true form.

But serviceable.

Ashen leaned closer to the mirror and grinned.

The grin didn’t belong to Lumi.

It was too sharp. Too knowing.

“Well,” he murmured, his thicker voice rolling comfortably off borrowed vocal cords, “I’ve looked worse.”

He straightened and rolled his shoulders, feeling the body respond. Strength coiled beneath muscle that had never known it before. Power sat just beneath the skin, restless and eager.

Not a full manifestation.

But enough.

He reached for the cloak draped over the chair and pulled it around his shoulders, adjusting the hood so it fell forward, concealing the horns. The fabric brushed against his neck, grounding him further in the physical world.

A human inconvenience.

Still.

Ashen crossed the room and opened the window.

Cool night air rushed in.

Freedom.

He didn’t bother climbing.

He stepped onto the sill and dropped.

Second floor.

He landed lightly, knees bending just enough to absorb the impact. No sound. No stumble. He straightened and inhaled deeply.

Oh.

Yes.

This was much better.

Ashen stretched his arms overhead, joints popping softly, then exhaled as heat rippled faintly around him.

He crouched.

Then jumped.

The world blurred.

In a single bound, he cleared the estate gate, sailed clean over iron and ward-stone alike, and landed beyond it with a soft crunch of gravel.

He laughed.

A low, delighted sound.

The city lights beckoned.

Ashen took off.

---

The streets were alive.

Late-night vendors. Flickering streetlamps. Laughter spilling from taverns and open windows. Humans moved through it all unaware, fragile as glass.

Perfect.

Ashen strolled through an alley, cloak drawn close, boots echoing softly against stone. He paused beside a small food stall, watched the owner argue with a customer, then casually flicked his fingers.

A spark leapt.

Tiny.

Harmless-looking.

It landed beneath the stall.

Fire blossomed.

Wood caught instantly. Oil followed. Flames surged upward, licking hungrily at canvas and cloth.

The owner screamed.

People scattered.

Ashen stepped back, hands clasped behind him, watching the panic unfold.

“Oh, don’t run,” he muttered pleasantly. “You’ll just make it worse.”

He moved on before anyone could notice him lingering.

Further down the street, he sat atop a low wall and traced lazy circles in the air. Small flares jumped from his fingertips, landing wherever he pleased. A rooftop. A cart. A hanging banner.

Chaos bloomed in his wake.

People shouted.

Buckets were thrown.

Someone tripped.

Someone cried.

Ashen laughed again, louder this time, head tipping back as fire reflected in his gold eyes.

This was joy.

This was art.

He leapt from roof to roof, scattering sparks like confetti, lighting up the city one corner at a time. He wasn’t destroying indiscriminately.

No.

He was playing.

Watching humans scramble. Listening to the panic rise and fall.

Delicious.

---

Corvin woke with a sharp inhale.

He sat upright, heart pounding, sweat cooling against his skin.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t hesitate.

He swung his legs out of bed and crossed the hall in seconds, throwing Scott’s door open.

Scott groaned. “What is it?”

“I sensed the demon,” Corvin said.

That got Scott’s attention.

“The one from earlier?” He sat up immediately. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Corvin replied. “Let’s go after it.”

Scott ran a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. “It’s a very powerful demon. We can’t take it down alone. We need to tell father.”

“By the time he assembles a team, it’ll be gone,” Corvin snapped. “We can take it. The two of us. Have faith.”

Scott studied him for a long second.

Then sighed.

“Alright,” he said. “But after this—have you thought about my request?”

Corvin grabbed his weapon. “Let’s kill the demon first. Then we’ll talk.”

Scott grinned. “Yes.”

They were moving moments later.

---

The city was tense.

Too quiet in some places. Too loud in others.

They searched methodically. Alleyways. Rooftops. Streets still smoking faintly from recent fires. Corvin focused, reaching outward with his senses, letting the unnatural heat guide him.

Nothing.

Then—

There.

His breath caught.

“This way,” he said sharply.

He broke into a run.

Scott swore and chased after him. “Wait up!”

They skidded to a stop after a few steps.

The demon stood ahead of them, back turned.

Laughing.

Fire danced around him, arcing wildly as he hurled flames in random directions, watching them strike stone and wood with delighted abandon.

Corvin’s stomach dropped.

It looked… human.

The build. The posture.

But wrong.

Scott nudged his shoulder. “Don’t go getting cold feet now. We have to put this demon down.”

Corvin nodded.

They advanced.

Ashen stopped laughing.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Gold eyes locked onto them.

He smiled.

Fire bloomed in both his hands as he spread his arms wide.

“Found you.”