Page 24 of The Awakening of Essensia

“I thought demons didn’t think like us,” she said, breaking the unbearable silence.

“They don’t,” Eli said, a step behind her.

“Why isn’t it trying to kill everyone?”

Their boots pounded the dirt path, drumming out a steady beat.

“Maybe it’s hiding.”

“From what? They only fear sunlight.” She swallowed hard. “Whatever’s inside Jon, it’s not an ordinary demon. Back at the cottage, it spoke. It—” She drew a shaky breath. “It called me little Lira.”

Eli tensed.

“My mother used to call me that. When I was small.” Her hands clenched, her nails biting into her palms. Jon was the only one who could have remembered.

A hand touched hers and anger built in her like a stoked forge, her body wanting to lash out with the force of it.

“Here,” Eli said quietly. “It’s moonstone, you know.”

The white stone from the cavern sat in Eli’s hand. That forge in her chest burned hotter at the thought of him taking it from the cottage. If she hadn’t insisted on going to look for Jon, would he have kept it for himself, leaving her to wonder at its whereabouts?

She reached for it, and the moment it touched her skin, the tightness in her chest eased. Her pulse slowed, the nausea faded, and the fury settled to hot coals. Still scorching, but controlled.

“You think it has access to his memories?” he continued, watching her closely.

She blinked, returning to the moment. “Maybe. Before it took him.”

Eli stopped walking. “Okay then. If you were your brother, where would you hide?”

The storm had moved east, the night sky clearing above them. They stood at the orchard gate, moonlight filtering through bare branches, cold and indifferent.

“When I was little,” she said, voice distant, “I used to climb the tree behind the storage shed and sneak in through one of the top windows. I’d cram myself between the crates and eat the apples.”

“Jon would come looking?”

She nodded. “Always.”

Eli scanned the trees. “It could be a trap.”

“That changes nothing.”

He looked at the moonstone clutched in her hand, then back to her face. He scanned her features, from her eyes, down her nose, to her mouth, as if searching for something. “We stick together. But if I tell you to run—”

She stepped through the gate, not letting him finish. There would be no running tonight.

Mist crept over the grass and around their ankles. She gripped her dagger tighter, every breath feeling like it might be her last.

At the far end of the orchard, the shed sagged under its own weight. The door hung crooked, hinges half torn. Eli raised a finger, but Vaelira crept closer. He caught her wrist and she glared at him, but the look in his eyes pulled her to a stop, and she let her arm go slack.

He stepped in first and she followed close on his heels, circling the opposite wall, careful not to knock into any of the shelves. They met again at the door, both shaking their heads.

Vaelira let out a tight breath.

There was a noise outside and she turned.

A cold arm snaked around her throat and yanked her into the dark.

“Little Lira,” it crooned lovingly, breathing the cruel words into her ear.