The Yandere Demon Lords & Me-Chapter 33: Blood Debt and Blade Vows - 2

They bound her wrists—tightly.

Not with chains, but with ward-thread soaked in glyphs that glowed faintly when touched.

Elaris tied them herself—gentle, practiced—checking each knot twice before standing.

She didn't speak. But when she finished, she glanced at Rein.

Not for approval.

For reassurance.

As if she needed to know he was still watching her.

Iris sat against a tilted slab of stone, face pale, lips cracked. Her red veil had torn in the struggle, revealing a sharp mouth and high cheekbones. But her eyes...

Her eyes never left Rein.

Zeraka paced behind him, tail flicking, claws flexing as she circled like a restless predator.

"You're seriously going to let her keep breathing? Pretty face aside, she still aimed for yours."

Valaithe lay draped across a nearby rock like it was a chaise lounge, tracing lazy circles in the air with her finger.

"She aimed for his heart. Let's not get sentimental about accuracy."

"She'll try again," Zeraka growled, stepping closer to Rein now, her voice dropping low.

She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear.

"But maybe that's what you like, hmm? Little death threats at dawn?"

Rein didn't flinch.

He just stepped forward, ignoring them all, and knelt in front of Iris.

She blinked once. Then lowered her gaze.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Iris," she said softly. "Third blade of the Scarlet Vow. Trained since birth to end the Throne before the Crown wakes."

Rein frowned.

"You said that like it's supposed to mean something."

Zeraka stepped beside him again, brushing up against his shoulder, claws twitching lazily.

"You'd think a cult this dramatic would at least name their blades something sexy. Like Red Widow. Or Flame-killer."

Rein gave her a look.

She grinned.

Then leaned in and licked a small smear of blood off his jaw from the earlier ambush.

"Missed a spot."

Valaithe sat up straighter now, suddenly interested.

"Did she say Throne?"

Iris nodded weakly.

"The Throne-Born.The one bound to seven demon hearts.Chosen by all. Claimed by none.If he awakens... the world doesn't burn.It melts."

Rein's brow furrowed. "You really believe that's me?"

Iris stared at him.

"I saw you," she whispered. "And remembered dying. In your arms. Smiling."

Zeraka snarled.

"Try smiling after I twist your pretty face into fertilizer."

Elaris spoke, voice soft but sharp.

"You dreamed of dying with him?"

Iris didn't blink.

"I did more than dream. I was raised for it."

Rein's voice was quieter now.

"What does that mean?"

She looked at him—not with fear, not with worship, but with strange, fragile clarity.

"That when the Throne-Born awakens," she whispered, "the world breaks twice."

"Once when they fall in love."

"And again... when someone loves them back."

Zeraka scoffed, though her posture shifted, just slightly.

"Sounds like cult poetry."

Valaithe, behind her, had gone very still.

"Sounds like the truth," she murmured.

Elaris's hands, resting on the hilt of her blade, stopped moving.

The wind died around them.

Iris continued—mechanical now. Reciting something etched into her bones.

"Seven demon lords will bind their bodies to him.Thirteen heroes will burn chasing him.And the one who sees his soul before it forms—Must kill him before it speaks."

Silence.

Rein stood frozen.

Valaithe moved to his side, wrapping her arms gently around one of his like a snake curling around fire.

"Flame-bound. Heart-cursed. Ahh... no wonder we all taste you when you're not looking."

Zeraka stepped up to his other side, brushing dirt off his shoulder with a scowl.

"Anyone burns him, I burn everything else."

Elaris didn't speak. But she stepped a little closer.

Iris looked up at Rein one last time.

"You're not just loved."

"You're claimed."

_________

The rain came soft this time.

Not cold. Not cleansing. Just quiet—like the sky was listening.

The fire hissed low between them. Its glow painted everything in long, flickering shadows.

Rein sat across from Iris, arms resting on his knees, watching the steam rise from the heat-wet stones. His coat was still damp. The scent of blood had faded, but not disappeared.

Iris hadn't moved from her spot.

She sat upright now. Calm. Resigned. Her broken blade rested across her lap like a folded vow.

She didn't speak.

She didn't ask for anything.

Which somehow made it worse.

Zeraka crouched to Rein's right, hands dangling between her knees, claws idly digging ruts in the mud.

She hadn't stopped staring at Iris since nightfall.

"You let her breathe."

Her voice was low, teeth tight.

"She aimed for your head, Rein. That's not something I forgive."

Rein didn't look away from the fire. "She didn't finish the strike."

"She didn't have to. One second slower and we'd be burning her corpse instead of warming it."

Valaithe, draped over a vine-wrapped stone nearby, chuckled softly.

"I find it charming. Like a snake that bit its own fang trying to kiss the mouse."

She licked a fingertip and drew a little rune in the air. It shimmered and faded.

"She's already suffering. Leave her."

"I don't want her to suffer," Zeraka snapped. "I want her gone."

Elaris sat at the edge of the firelight, back straight, sword across her lap, gaze flicking between Rein and Iris.

She hadn't spoken since the prophecy.

But she hadn't left either.

And her blade—unsheathed, sharpened, polished again and again—gleamed like it wanted to draw blood just to feel something.

Rein stood.

Walked across the firelight.

And knelt in front of Iris again.

"Why are you still here?"

She looked up slowly.

"Because I don't know where else to be."

"Because I was supposed to kill you, and I didn't."

"Because if I leave, I'll become what they trained me to be again."

She lowered her gaze.

"And I don't want to be her anymore."

Rein said nothing for a while.

Then reached into his pouch, pulled out a bitterroot poultice and a strip of clean cloth.

He held them out.

"Then don't."

Iris stared at them. Then at him.

"You... you're going to heal me?"

"It's not much," he said. "Just enough to stop the bleeding."

"You're bleeding," she whispered.

"So are you."

She didn't take the supplies.

She only whispered—

"I tried to kill you."

"I know."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because no one else would."

She broke.

Not all at once. Not loudly.

Just a soft sound, like someone choking on silence.

Tears didn't fall.

But her hands shook as she reached out and accepted the cloth. Not with grace.

With shame.

Zeraka turned away, muttering curses in old tongue.

Valaithe watched with her chin on her palm, eyes half-lidded.

"He keeps feeding strays," she murmured. "One of them will bite deeper than expected."

Elaris stood, moved past the fire, and dropped her own flask beside Iris with a quiet clink of metal.

Then she looked at Rein.

"You can't save everyone."

Rein met her gaze.

"I'm not trying to."

"Then what are you doing?"

He glanced at Iris, still clutching the cloth like a relic.

"Trying not to become someone who stops trying."

Iris wrapped the cloth slowly around her hand, hiding the fading sigil beneath it.

"I don't want to love you," she whispered.

"Good," Rein said. "I don't want that either."

He stood.

"But. I have this bad feeling. You will anyway."