Chapter 21 — Salt in the Wound

Chelsea woke slowly, pulled back into herself from a heavy, dreamless sleep. There was no fog world waiting for her, no distant voice calling her name, no sign of Magalesa or Gerard. The absence felt wrong. They had been there before, constant in a strange, unreliable way, but now there was nothing. No guidance, no explanation, no reassurance. Just silence.

It settled into her chest like something cold.

For a moment, she lay still, staring at nothing, letting the memories of what had happened press in around her. Adriane’s face. The tears. The apologies. The pain. Her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up. Her breathing hitched, her chest tightening as panic threatened to claw its way back up.

Adriane had been her lifeline. The one person in this world who had made any of it make sense.

Now even thinking about her made something inside Chelsea recoil.

Her mind scrambled for something else, something safer, and landed on Dewey. He had been kind. Steady. Simple in a way that felt honest. Someone she could hold onto.

But even that thought twisted.

He belonged to Adriane.

The realization didn’t hurt the same way. It didn’t explode like panic. It settled in deeper than that, quiet and suffocating.

She wasn’t alone. But she wasn’t safe either.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her out of it.

“Little sister. Wake up.”

Dewey’s voice was soft, careful in a way that felt almost out of place for someone his size. He gave her a gentle shake, just enough to pull her fully awake.

“You need to eat.”

Chelsea blinked up at him, her mind slow to catch up. “Food?”

She pushed herself upright, her body responding easily, as if nothing had happened at all. It should have felt like a relief, but instead it just made everything more surreal.

In front of Dewey, her broken armor had been neatly gathered into a pile. Beside it sat another pile, far less orderly, a collection of fresh organs laid out across the ground. Hearts, liver, eyes, tongues. The sight of it stirred something instinctive in her, something that cut clean through everything else.

Her eyes lit up before she could stop herself.

“Where did these come from?” she asked.

Dewey hesitated, just long enough for the answer to be obvious. “Adriane has been hunting since… since you fell asleep.”

The name hit harder than she expected.

Chelsea’s expression tightened, and she looked away. “I’m not hungry,” she said immediately.

It wasn’t true. Not even close. But the thought of accepting something that came from Adriane, even indirectly, twisted in her stomach.

“Little demon sister, please,” Dewey said, his voice dropping, heavier now. “It doesn’t matter where they came from. You need your strength.”

Chelsea’s vision blurred as tears welled up, uninvited and impossible to stop. The betrayal sat too close to the surface. She had thought she found something here. A place. A family. Something stable in a world that made no sense.

And it had shattered in a single moment.

She swallowed hard, forcing the emotion down as best she could, then gave a slow, reluctant nod.

She stood and walked over to the pile, lowering herself to the ground and sitting cross-legged in front of it. For a second, she just stared at the organs, letting the familiar pull of hunger settle in properly.

Then she reached out and grabbed the nearest heart.

As she bit into it, tearing off a mouthful, something inside her shifted. The softness that had carried her this far hardened, not all at once, but enough to matter.

She would get stronger.

Stronger than Adriane.

The thought came quietly, almost calmly, but it rooted itself deep. She would survive this. She would learn. And one day, she would stand above the woman who had made her feel that powerless.

She chewed slowly, a faint smirk touching her lips as the idea took shape in her mind.

“You need a bath.”

Bea’s voice cut through the moment, snapping Chelsea back to reality.

Chelsea looked up, the smirk fading as Bea’s words stirred something else. A memory. The way Bea had reacted when she first became their sister. The disbelief. The almost horrified question.

Why would you do that to yourself?

At the time, Chelsea had brushed it off as Bea being dramatic.

Now it lingered.

Chelsea patted the ground beside her, inviting her closer. Bea hesitated, clearly unsure what to make of the gesture, before eventually sitting down with a cautious, almost suspicious air.

Chelsea reached into the pile and picked up an eye, holding it out toward her.

“Where I come from, some people consider these a delicacy,” she said. “Humans. Not demons.”

Bea stared at it, her face twisting immediately. “Eww, no. Absolutely not.”

Chelsea shrugged and popped it into her mouth without hesitation, chewing thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry for calling you a psycho yesterday,” she said after a moment.

“Demon, don’t start…” Bea warned, already bracing herself.

“You and I got off on the wrong foot,” Chelsea continued anyway. “I know you don’t like me. For whatever reason. But I’d rather we don’t stay like that. We don’t have to be friends, but I’d like to get to a point where we can at least understand each other.”

Bea didn’t respond right away.

The two of them sat in silence as Chelsea took another bite, the quiet stretching just long enough to feel intentional. Bea reached out and poked at the pile of organs with a single finger, watching the way it shifted under the pressure.

“I can’t believe you eat this,” she muttered.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Chelsea replied around a mouthful.

Bea snorted softly, wiping the red smear from her finger onto her already stained shirt.

“I don’t hate you,” she said finally. “You just annoy the shit out of me. All your questions, all that wide-eyed curiosity, that whole ‘look at me, I’m a likable little demon girl’ thing you’ve got going on. It’s exhausting.”

Chelsea huffed a quiet laugh.

“But I don’t hate you,” Bea repeated, pushing herself to her feet.

Chelsea looked up at her. “You still have crazy eyes.”

Bea paused, then let out a breath of laughter as she turned away, shaking her head as she walked back toward Edgar.

“Chelsea.”

The sound of Adriane’s voice hit her like a physical blow.

Chelsea’s heart slammed against her ribs, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. Fear flooded through her, sharp and immediate, and she looked around wildly for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. There was nowhere to go. No cover, no distance she could create that would matter.

So she moved on instinct.

She scrambled across the ground and ducked behind Dewey as quickly as she could, pressing herself against his back like he might somehow shield her from what was coming. Her hands gripped at his clothing, her breathing shallow as she tried to make herself smaller, quieter, invisible. If Adriane couldn’t see her, maybe she wouldn’t…

Adriane let out a soft sigh.

“Chelsea, you don’t need to hide behind him. You’re done with your training.”

The words did nothing to calm her.

Chelsea stayed where she was, frozen in place, her body trembling despite her efforts to control it.

“Little sister,” Dewey said gently, his voice low and steady. “It’s okay.”

Chelsea hesitated, then slowly leaned just enough to peek over his shoulder.

Adriane stood a short distance away, exactly where the voice had come from. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t advancing. She was just… waiting.

Patient.

That almost made it worse.

Chelsea ducked back behind Dewey immediately, her chest tightening again. She forced herself to breathe, slow and controlled, even as her thoughts raced. She needed a plan. If something felt off, if Adriane moved the wrong way, she would run. It wouldn’t matter that she couldn’t outrun her. She would still try.

After a few seconds, she swallowed hard and stepped out from behind Dewey.

She didn’t trust her voice, so she didn’t speak. Instead, she stared down at the pile of food, pretending to focus on it, waiting.

“Follow me,” Adriane said.

Chelsea’s stomach twisted.

Every instinct told her to run. To turn and sprint as fast as she could, to get as far away from this family as possible. But her body didn’t listen. Fear rooted her in place, then pushed her forward instead of away.

She followed.

Adriane led her deeper into the forest, away from the others, away from the small sense of safety the group had provided. The trees grew thicker as they walked, the canopy above swallowing what little light filtered down. The air felt heavier here, quieter, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Chelsea’s unease grew with every step.

This wasn’t toward open ground. This wasn’t toward anything familiar. This was deeper. Darker.

She looked up, trying to get her bearings, but the dense cover made it impossible to judge the time or direction. When her attention dropped back down, she realized she had nearly walked straight into Adriane.

She stumbled back quickly, putting space between them.

“I know,” Adriane began, still facing away from her. “I know what I did seemed heartless.”

Chelsea didn’t respond.

The words stirred something in her, anger bubbling up beneath the fear. There were so many things she wanted to say. Questions. Accusations. Something sharp and cutting to throw back at her.

But none of it made it past her throat.

She just stood there and listened.

“It’s going to take time for you to process what happened,” Adriane continued. Then she turned, and Chelsea’s breath caught.

She was crying again.

“I only did it to make you stronger.”

Chelsea took a small step back, her eyes dropping to the ground. The words didn’t comfort her. They didn’t make sense. They just made everything worse.

“Why?” she asked.

The word was barely audible, fragile and thin, but it carried everything she hadn’t been able to say earlier.

“Let me show you why.”

Adriane stepped toward her.

Chelsea’s body tensed instantly, panic flaring as she glanced around for an escape. There was nowhere to go. She knew that. Still, her muscles coiled, ready to bolt anyway.

Adriane reached her before she could move.

Her hand closed gently around Chelsea’s, not forcing, not hurting, just holding. Then she lowered herself down onto her knees, bringing herself level with her.

The shift in height didn’t help.

Chelsea’s entire body shook now, adrenaline flooding her system. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t run. All she could do was stand there and endure whatever came next.

“Please don’t hurt me again,” she whispered.

Adriane’s expression tightened, pain flashing across her face.

“Chelsea,” she said softly, “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you. I wish I didn’t have to.”

Chelsea swallowed, the question sitting heavy in her chest. Then why did you?

Adriane seemed to read it anyway.

“I’m sure you’ve already imagined ways to get back at me,” she continued quietly. “And you would be justified. But let me show you why I did what I did.”

She lifted Chelsea’s hand, turning it palm up. There were still faint traces of blood from the meal, smeared across her skin. Adriane took a cloth from her bag and gently wiped it clean, her movements careful, almost tender.

“Close your eyes,” Adriane said.

Chelsea hesitated.

“Go ahead,” Adriane added, her voice softening into something familiar, something that reminded her of the quiet conversations back at the castle. “It’s okay.”

It didn’t feel okay.

But Chelsea closed her eyes.

“No peeking,” Adriane said lightly.

Chelsea nodded faintly, though Adriane couldn’t see it.

She felt Adriane’s finger press lightly against her palm, then drag across it at an angle. The sensation was strange. Not painful. Not yet. Just a line being drawn.

“Don’t open them yet.”

Chelsea heard the faint rustle of fabric as Adriane moved, the soft sounds of her rummaging through her pack. Her breathing sounded too loud in her own ears, every second stretching longer than it should.

Then Adriane spoke again.

“Okay. Open them.”

Chelsea’s eyes flickered open.

For a moment, her brain didn’t process what she was seeing.

Then it clicked.

Her palm was open.

Not scratched. Not marked.

Cut.

A clean, deliberate slice ran across it, and Adriane was sprinkling a fine white powder over the exposed flesh with a bright, almost cheerful expression.

“It’s salt,” Adriane said, smiling as if she had just done something kind. “You don’t feel any pain, do you?”

Chelsea’s first instinct was to yank her hand away. Everything in her body told her to pull back, to put distance between herself and whatever Adriane was doing. But something else held her there. Curiosity. The same stubborn, reckless curiosity that had gotten her into trouble more than once already.

She watched.

The salt fell into the open cut, settling into the raw flesh, and she braced herself for the pain that should have followed.

Nothing came.

Her brow furrowed. Slowly, almost cautiously, she used her other hand to push a few stray granules deeper into the wound with her finger, testing it, pressing where it should have burned the worst.

Still nothing.

“I don’t feel anything,” Chelsea said quietly, her voice edged with disbelief.

Adriane nodded, as if that confirmed something important. “My father had many faults,” she began, her tone steady but subdued, “but he did make one discovery that we keep as a family secret.” She gestured lightly toward Chelsea’s hand. “If you remove all the flesh from an area and heal it using a specific spell, the body regrows without… what did you call them?”

“Receptors,” Chelsea corrected automatically, her attention still fixed on her hand. The cut was already beginning to close, the skin pulling itself back together as if it had never been there.

“Right. Those,” Adriane said.

Chelsea swallowed, her thoughts catching up all at once. The implication settled in, heavy and unavoidable.

That’s why.

That’s why she had been able to endure it.

That’s why Adriane had done it that way.

Her fingers curled slightly as the last of the cut sealed itself, leaving her palm smooth and untouched.