Fyren arrived shortly after the curse demon died, landing in a smoking crater. He stood, wreathed in his flames in his demonic form.
"What happened?" he asked.
I explained the curse demons' attack, and his face twisted in the infernal equivalent of a frown.
"Damn it. That knows you're here. Or at least nearby."
"What? But I didn't sense him using any magic like that," I said.
He shook his head. "That's why he doesn't know your exact location. But from that demon's words, they must have explicit instructions to seek you out. If it died…no one else could be responsible."
"What, exactly, is it you wish to accomplish?" Zephyriss.
I bit my lip, rubbing Fable's back. "I…need to speak with Luke. He's the only one who can promise to save the elves' shards."
"Is there nothing else?" she asked.
My fingers curled around a lock of silver fur. "I don't know. Neither you nor Fate tells me anything. It's just one step at a time, and this is the next step. I think."
