Chapter 156: Of Shadows, Sweetness, and Learning to Let Go
Chapter 156: Of Shadows, Sweetness, and Learning to Let Go
Elyn’s POV
"Go with the flow of the music," Zorathys told me calmly, his voice low and steady as if this were the easiest thing in the world.
I tried.
I genuinely did.
"I am going with the flow," I insisted, my hands stiff where they rested against him, my feet far too aware of the floor beneath them and—more importantly—of his feet.
He stared down at me.
"No," he said after a pause. "You are moving like a demon yet to be discovered."
I blinked. "What?"
He tilted his head thoughtfully, eyes scanning me as if I were a strange specimen. "A feral one. Perhaps rare. Possibly dangerous. I wonder what territory such a beast would come from."
I glared. "I am dancing."
"I wouldn’t call what you are doing dancing, firefly. You are panicking actually." He told me.
I huffed, nearly stepping on him in the process—which only proved his point and irritated me further.
"Relax," Zorathys said, tightening his hold just enough to steady me. "Stop focusing on my feet."
"I am not focusing on your feet," I snapped.
"You are absolutely focusing on my feet."
"Well, forgive me for not wanting to step on the Demon King," I muttered. "That feels like a very fast way to die."
He hummed. "Reasonable."
Then he added, "Stop focusing on the fact that you want to learn how to dance."
I looked up at him incredulously. "Then what exactly am I supposed to focus on?"
He didn’t answer immediately.
The music continued to play, deep and rhythmic, filling the hall with something old and slow and almost hypnotic. His shadows swayed along the walls, moving not quite in time with the melody but close enough that it felt intentional.
I shifted awkwardly in his arms. "There is nothing else for me to focus on," I said honestly. "I am dancing. That is the entire problem."
Zorathys went quiet.
Not the tired quiet from before. This was... thoughtful. The kind that made me nervous.
After a moment, he asked casually, "What is your favourite colour?"
I blinked again. "What?"
"What is your favourite colour?" he repeated.
I squinted at him. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"I am distracting you," he replied simply.
"By asking me random questions?"
"Yes."
I scoffed. "That makes no sense."
"It does," he said. "If you stop thinking about not stepping on me and stop thinking about learning how to dance, you might actually dance."
I hesitated. Then sighed.
"...I don’t have a favourite colour."
He raised a brow. "You do not?"
"No," I said. "I like many colours. I can use any of them. It depends on my mood."
"Hm." He seemed to consider that. "Practical."
I glanced up at him. "What about you, then?"
"My favourite colour?" he repeated.
"Yes."
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, the shadows around us shifted, darkening subtly, taking on a deeper hue—still black, but richer, almost tinted.
"I am created in my favourite colour. My hair, my eyes," he said with a shrug. "Those are what I refer to as a favourite colour."
I stared at the shadows. Then back at him.
"That is the most unfair answer I’ve ever heard," I said—and then I laughed.
The sound surprised me and I realized distantly that my steps had loosened without me noticing.
Interesting.
"Your turn," I said suddenly.
He looked at me. "I already answered."
"I know. I am asking something else." I tilted my head. "If you had to choose one territory to serve you food, which would it be?"
He paused mid-step.
"...Where did that question come from?"
I smiled faintly. "You are a picky eater."
He scoffed. "I am not picky."
"You are," I said firmly. "And I remember. I also hope you haven’t forgotten that I told Kethra the two of us would work together to discover more foods you like."
His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "You remember that."
"I do."
The music carried us forward as he guided me gently, my body following his without resistance now.
"Honestly," Zorathys said after a moment, "I do not know."
"You don’t know?"
"I would rather drink wine than eat," he admitted. "Food is not something I particularly enjoy."
I gasped.
"That is horrible."
He looked amused. "Is it?"
"Yes," I said. "How do you expect to stay healthy?"
"I do not need food to stay healthy," he replied calmly. "I am a demon."
Before I could argue, he spun me.
The world tilted.
I twirled—and then stumbled right back into his arms, breath leaving me in a startled laugh.
He caught me easily.
I didn’t even realize—didn’t even feel—that I had followed the rhythm perfectly.
"I—" I started, then stopped, my hands gripping his chest instinctively.
Something shifted in his gaze.
I swallowed. "You enjoyed the ice cream she made for you," I said suddenly, filling the silence.
He nodded. "I did. It was... pleasant. Sweet."
My lips curved. "Do you think you have a sweet tooth?"
He considered it. "I am not certain. There are other sweets I have eaten that I did not like."
"That doesn’t matter," I said without hesitation. "I’ll find out."
His brow lifted. "You will?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "I will find out what you like. What your palate accepts."
Zorathys laughed, a low sound that vibrated through me. "I do not really care."
I rolled my eyes. "Is it that strange that I’m curious?"
"You are very eager to work," he teased. "Do you always search for something to do?"
"It’s not that," I said. "I’m just curious."
"Hm." His grip shifted as the music swelled, faster now, climbing.
He twirled me again.
And again.
This time, I didn’t stumble.
I followed.
The hall blurred, the music carried me, my breath quickened—not from panic, but from movement, from exhilaration.
Then the music stopped.
Abruptly.
I fell back into his arms, breathing heavily, my heart pounding.
There was barely any space between us.
His lips were close that I could make out every outline.
Zorathys chuckled softly.
"Congratulations, Firefly," he murmured. "It seems you know how to dance after all."
I was still breathing heavily.