I Raised the Demon Queen (Now She Won't Leave Me Alone)

The forest had grown quiet again.

Too quiet.

Elias knew better than to trust silence, especially this kind. He adjusted the ragged cloak over Rhea's shoulders and stirred the stew pot with a stick. It was more weeds than vegetables, but she claimed she liked the crunch.

Rhea sat beside him on the mossy log, cross-legged and barefoot, holding a stick as if it were a royal scepter. Her eyes narrowed as she stirred the pot exactly three times clockwise, then tapped it.

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"Taste test!" she announced proudly, before handing him a chipped wooden spoon.

"It still tastes like wet bark," Elias muttered after a sip, "but now with a hint of mud."

"Excellent! That's progress. Last time, it tasted like regret."

He managed a weak laugh, but she saw it—the tiredness behind his smile. He'd barely slept since they fled. The bells of purity, that holy artifact the town had suddenly pulled out of nowhere, had nearly outed her in front of everyone. The moment it chimed and turned red, the crowd had gasped, and Rhea had instinctively gripped Elias's arm like a drowning child.

They ran. Again.

Now they were here—deep in the forest, hiding like outlaws, cooking regret soup.

Rhea stared into the small fire. Her flame magic crackled beneath it, flickering unnaturally violet.