The Demon Queen's Contract

Chapter 131: Don’t run

The silence that followed my whispered curse felt like a suffocating shroud, pressing down on me from all sides. My breath was shallow, my chest tight with the realization of what I had just done or rather, what I had nearly done.

The men were still standing, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hate, but they didn't move. They watched me like I was some kind of rabid animal, unpredictable and dangerous.

And maybe I was.

For a moment, everything was still. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next. My heart pounded in my ears, loud and insistent, as if urging me to make a choice. To fight or to flee. To be the monster they believed me to be or to prove them wrong.

But the truth was, I didn't know who I was anymore. The memories that had resurfaced the darkness I had once embraced had shaken me to my core.

I had been a killer, a thief, a force of destruction, and no matter how much I wanted to believe that I had changed, that part of me was still there, lurking beneath the surface, ready to break free.

The leader of the group took a hesitant step forward, his hands raised as if to show he meant no harm, but I could see the fear in his eyes, the way his fingers trembled. "We don't want any more trouble," he said, his voice shaky but trying to sound firm. "Just… just leave, and we won't follow."

I blinked, trying to focus on his words, but my mind was a whirl of confusion and doubt. Leave. Just leave. It sounded so simple, so easy.

But I knew it wasn't. Leaving meant running, and I was tired of running. But staying meant facing whatever lay ahead, and I wasn't sure I was ready for that either.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, my voice low, barely more than a whisper. The words felt hollow, even to me. The truth was, I didn't trust myself anymore. I didn't know if I could stop if I started again.

"You already have," the leader spat, his voice trembling with barely contained anger. "You killed that man back there. You could have killed us all."

I flinched at his words, the guilt and shame twisting in my gut. I had killed that man—without hesitation, without mercy.

The memory of it was a blur of rage and blood, and I couldn't even say for sure why I had done it. Was it self-defense? Was it something darker? I didn't know.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. But I knew it wasn't enough. Sorry wouldn't bring that man back. Sorry wouldn't erase the fear and pain I had caused. But it was all I had.

The leader shook his head, his expression hardening. "Sorry won't bring him back. Sorry won't change what you are."

I looked down at my hands, still stained with blood, and felt a deep, bone-deep weariness settle over me. He was right. Sorry wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change what I had done, or what I had become.

But maybe it was time to stop trying to change the past and start figuring out what to do with the future.

Without another word, I turned and walked away, my steps heavy, the weight of everything I had done and everything I still had to face pressing down on me like a physical burden.

The villagers didn't follow, but I could feel their eyes on me, burning with the hatred and fear that I had come to know so well.

I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to get away from them—from their accusing eyes, their fearful whispers.

I needed space to think, to breathe, to figure out who I was and what I wanted. The road stretched out before me, dark and empty, and I walked it alone, the night closing in around me like a shroud.

The further I walked, the more the tension in my body began to ease, but the thoughts in my mind didn't quiet. They swirled and tangled, a mess of doubts and fears that I couldn't seem to untangle.

The memories of my past of who I had been before I had become Elara clung to me like a shadow, impossible to shake.

Who was I now? Was I still the person I had been before, the ruthless thief who would do anything to survive? Or was I someone different, someone trying to atone for the sins of her past? I didn't have the answers, and that terrified me more than anything else.

As the hours dragged on, I found myself at the edge of a small, rundown village, the kind of place that barely registered on a map. The buildings were old and weathered, their wooden frames creaking with age, and the streets were empty, save for a few stray cats that slunk through the shadows.

It was a place where people kept their heads down, where they didn't ask questions, and that was exactly what I needed.

I ducked into a small, dimly lit tavern at the edge of the village, the door creaking on its hinges as I pushed it open.

The inside was as rundown as the rest of the village scarred wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and a bar that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years.

The air was thick with the smell of stale beer and smoke, and the few patrons scattered around the room barely glanced up as I entered.

I made my way to the bar, slipping onto one of the rickety stools, and the bartender a grizzled old man with a patchy beard and bloodshot eyes gave me a once-over before grunting. "What'll it be?"

"Just something strong," I muttered, not even sure what I was asking for. I just needed something to dull the edge, to quiet the thoughts that wouldn't stop spinning in my head.

The bartender grunted again and poured a glass of something amber and potent-smelling, sliding it across the bar to me without a word. I took it and downed it in one go, the burn of the alcohol a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside me.

For a while, I just sat there, nursing another drink and trying to make sense of everything. The memories of my past, the things I had done—it all felt like a nightmare, something distant and unreal. But it wasn't. It was my life, and no matter how much I wanted to run from it, I couldn't.

I didn't know how long I sat there, lost in thought, but eventually, the tavern door creaked open, and I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as I saw the figure standing in the doorway.

It was Seraphina.

She stood there, silhouetted by the dim light from outside, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. For a moment, she just looked at me, her expression unreadable, and I felt a wave of emotions crash over me relief, guilt, fear, love.

All tangled together in a confusing, overwhelming mess.

She walked over to me slowly, her steps measured, and when she finally reached me, she didn't say anything. She just looked at me, her gaze piercing, as if she could see right through me, to the darkness inside.

"Seraphina…" I started, but the words died in my throat. What could I even say? How could I explain everything that had happened everything I had remembered? How could I tell her that I didn't even know who I was anymore?

But she didn't ask. She just reached out, her hand warm and steady as she took mine, and I felt the tension that had been coiled tight inside me begin to unravel, just a little.

"I've been looking for you," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Are you alright?"

Was I alright? I didn't know. I didn't know anything anymore. But the fact that she was here, that she had found me it was enough, for now.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't know what I am anymore."

She squeezed my hand, her grip grounding me, anchoring me to the present. "You're Elara," she said simply. "No matter what you've done, no matter what you remember you're still you."

Her words were a balm, soothing some of the raw, aching wounds inside me, but they didn't erase the doubts, the fears. "But what if I'm not?" I asked, my voice trembling. "What if… what if I'm still that person I used to be?"

"You're not," she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. "You've changed, Elara. You've grown. You're not that person anymore."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that I could still be the person I had tried so hard to become, the person who wasn't ruled by darkness and violence. But the memories were still there, whispering in the back of my mind, reminding me of who I had been.

"I don't know if I can keep running from it," I said, my voice breaking. "I don't know if I can keep pretending."

"Then don't," Seraphina said, her eyes burning with intensity. "Don't run. Don't pretend. Face it, Elara. Face who you were, and then decide who you want to be."