Chapter 121: Sweet Trails and Silent Shadows
Chapter 121: Sweet Trails and Silent Shadows
Elyn’s POV
I gave Azerion a look.
It was the kind of look that said I may like you, you are alive, and if you disappear again I will personally tie you to my wrist—all at once.
He stared back up at me with wide, unrepentant eyes, fingers still faintly sticky despite my earlier efforts.
I sighed. Deeply. From somewhere near my soul.
"For the duration of our stay in the demon beast territory," I said slowly, carefully, "you are not to even think about wandering off."
He nodded immediately. The action was fast, and it took me aback because I was not expecting him to agree so suddenly.
"I mean it," I added.
Another nod. Slower this time.
"Good," I said, even though I didn’t fully believe him. "Come to think of it, how did you even get away from me? I was holding your hand the whole time."
He smiled sheepishly. "I perceived something sweet."
Why did that not even surprise me at all? Oh, I knew why—it was because this was Azerion. The thief of sweets.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Azerion, when you say that, are you talking about the stall I found you at?"
"No."
I dropped my hand. "Of course not."
He brightened slightly, clearly pleased to elaborate. "First, I went to a stall selling buns. They had holes in them that I could put my fingers through," he said excitedly.
That sounded awfully like doughnuts.
"Immediately I bit into the flour, and it had this sugary taste. It was so sweet," he said.
I closed my eyes for a moment. Demon realm or not, some things were universal. Curiosity. Sugar. Poor decision-making.
"Then," he continued, "I perceived something sweeter."
"Of course you did."
Again, I wasn’t surprised.
"Candied Swirls."
I paused. "Candied... what?"
He tilted his head, tail flicking as he thought. "That silver thread-like thing we saw earlier. Remember? A demon was selling it near the music stalls."
Oh.
I did remember. Thin, shimmering coils spun around sticks, glowing faintly as if spun from moonlight and sugar. I’d even thought about getting a taste.
I nodded slowly. "Okay?"
"Yes," he said proudly. "They were sweet. But not sweet enough."
I stared at him. "You are impossible."
"And then," he added, undeterred, "I perceived gooter berry plum juice."
"And what was that?" I asked.
"...Gooter berry plum juice," I repeated carefully.
He nodded.
I turned to look at him. "Was that the goblin’s stall?"
Another nod, this one slower.
"I liked it," he admitted. "So I stayed. For a while. And then I got caught."
I exhaled through my nose, equal parts exasperation and relief. He hadn’t been hurt. He hadn’t been taken. He’d just... followed sugar like it was a divine calling.
I led him toward a quieter corner of the street, away from the press of bodies and noise. Once we reached a narrow space between two stone buildings, I crouched down in front of him.
"Hold still," I said.
He obeyed immediately.
I pulled a handkerchief from my sleeve and gently wiped his face. Dark stains smeared the fabric—evidence of the gooter berry plum juice. It was on his cheeks, his chin, the corner of his mouth. Even his clothes bore faint splashes of purple-black.
"You look like you fought the drink and lost," I muttered.
He smiled. "Hehe, I won the fight."
I huffed a quiet laugh despite myself.
Once his face was clean, I stood and went to the nearest stall selling drinks. I bought a small flask of water, returned, and knelt again.
"Hands," I said.
He held them out obediently.
I poured water over his fingers, rubbing gently to wash away the sticky residue. He giggled, squirming slightly.
"It’s cold!"
"Of course it’s cold," I said, smiling softly. "It’s water."
He laughed again, tail swaying, eyes bright.
When he was finally presentable—or as presentable as Azerion ever got—I straightened and took his hand firmly.
"Do not go missing again," I said.
He nodded. This time, it felt real.
A few steps later, he looked up at me with a frown. "Where is Zed?"
My grip tightened slightly.
"I don’t know," I admitted with a sigh. "But we’re about to find out."
We walked.
I kept Azerion close, his hand warm in mine as I scanned the streets, the buildings, the spaces between. I searched for anywhere quiet. Anywhere too quiet. Somewhere a demon king who valued his sleep might have retreated to.
But I’d searched everywhere.
I looked for shadows that lingered too long, for darkness that felt aware. I followed my instincts—the strange pull I’d come to associate with Zorathys’s presence.
Nothing.
I even asked demons for recommendations.
"Quiet places?" one demon echoed thoughtfully. "There’s a meditation hall near the eastern bridge."
Zorathys wasn’t there.
"A sanctuary grove," another beast demon suggested. "It’s very peaceful. Hardly anyone goes there."
That was empty. Zorathys wasn’t there.
"How about the private bathhouse?" another said with a grin. "It’s warm and silent."
He wasn’t there either.
Each place was perfect for sleep. Each place held no trace of him.
Time slipped by. The festival grew louder, brighter. The sun shifted overhead.
My chest tightened.
Time was no longer on our side. We had to finish this fast.
Azerion looked up at me, sensing the shift. "El?"
I swallowed. "We’re going to proceed—with or without Zorathys."
I didn’t like it. Not one bit. But the mission mattered. Standing still wouldn’t bring Zorathys back faster. And I was going to deal with him when I finally met him.
I asked for directions to the clothing shop—the one we were supposed to have reached long ago. The same one Zorathys had led us toward before he went missing.
After a few wrong turns and several conflicting directions, we finally arrived.
The shop was... packed.
Demons lined up outside, stretching down the street. Inside, the space was overflowing—racks of fabric, mannequins displaying elaborate designs, bolts of cloth stacked to the ceiling. The air buzzed with excitement.
"Did you see the new fabric from the Hellfire Territory?"
"They say it changes texture in moonlight."
"I heard the cuts are inspired by ancient court wear."
I joined the line, Azerion still holding my hand, and waited until we got a chance to get in.