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

The torchlight flickered along the damp stone walls, casting jittery shadows that crawled like insects. The smell down here—underneath the school, hidden beneath layers of enchanted flooring and bureaucratic ignorance—was part mold, part sulfur. Elias gagged quietly behind his sleeve.

"I told you it wasn't going to smell like fresh cinnamon rolls," Revantra whispered ahead of him, not even bothering to look back. Her fire spell lit the way—steady, deliberate. It didn't sputter like before. It glowed.

Too steadily.

Elias quickened his pace to match her. "You've grown... taller. Again. Is that a thing now? Weekly transformations?"

Revantra shrugged, but her shoulders had a stiffness to them. "Maybe it's the dampness stretching me. Focus, Elias."

They had followed Theo's map through the unused basement tunnels, past broken supply shelves and an old magical water filtration system that now only dripped like it was too lazy to do its job. But now they were in a different part of the undercroft. Older. Colder.

And definitely inhabited.

Voices murmured ahead, rising and falling in a chant that made the back of Elias's teeth ache. It wasn't just creepy. It was familiar—to her.

He glanced at Revantra.

Her hands were clenched. Her knuckles glowed faintly, as if her magic didn't like being near this place. Or maybe it did.

They rounded the corner and froze.

A stone chamber opened before them, roughly circular, etched with lines that pulsed red like veins. Figures in black robes swayed in rhythmic motion around a central circle drawn in chalk and ash. Symbols flickered across it like illusions—some Elias didn't recognize. Some Revantra did.

Her name—her true name—was being spoken by twelve mouths in perfect unison.

"Revantra," they whispered. "Return. Remember. Rise."

Elias barely had time to stop her.

"Wait," he hissed, grabbing her wrist.

She didn't shake him off. But she didn't look at him either.

"I have to see who they are," she said, voice tight. "If they're connected to—" Her throat bobbed. "To the old cult. Then I need to know what they want from me."

Before he could argue, a shadow peeled itself from the wall and moved—too smoothly, too fast.

Elias shoved Revantra back just as claws slashed through the air where she'd been standing. The robed figure landed with a snarl, but the hood fell away as it rose, revealing a face that shifted as they stared. Half-human. Half... not.

The jaw had grown too wide. The eyes gleamed like blood rubbed on obsidian. Horns curled faintly from the temples.

"Revantra," it said, but this voice didn't chant. It rasped. "We've waited. You were supposed to lead us."

Revantra's fire flared in her palm. "Yeah, well, I took a detour. Had to learn how to bake cookies and argue about socks. Life's been complicated."

The half-demon lunged.

She didn't flinch.

Fire bloomed—not a wild blast, but a tight arc of flame that cut across the thing's chest and sent it sprawling against a stone pillar. The other cultists scattered, robes flapping as they fled through side passages. Only the half-demon stayed, chest smoking, grinning.

"You haven't forgotten," it rasped. "Good."

Elias stepped forward, but Revantra held out a hand. "Don't."

He hesitated. Her voice was... different. Steady. Commanding.

It was the voice of a queen.

She stepped forward, her body relaxed, her eyes sharp. The fire she conjured didn't crackle like before. It hummed low, like a beast purring at her touch. She weaved a pattern with her fingers—ancient, precise.

"I'm not scared of what I used to be," she said.

The half-demon sneered, lunging again. This time, faster. It twisted midair, expecting a panic spell, a wild burst of flame.

But Revantra didn't react. She waited. Let it get close.

And then—

She dropped low, spun her palm against the ground, and released a pressure spell like a coiled spring. The air exploded upward, slamming the creature into the ceiling with a crunch.

It fell, twitching.

Elias ran to her side. "You—how did you know to do that?"

She blinked at him, as if only now remembering he was there. "Instinct, maybe. Or memory."

The half-demon stirred. Its claw scraped against the floor, trying to pull itself upright.

Revantra stood over it, flame rising again in her hand.

Elias stepped between them.

"Rhea."

She didn't move.

"Rhea," he said again, softly now. "You've already won."

"I should end it," she murmured.

"But you're not who you were."

The silence was long. The fire in her hand dimmed. Her shoulders lowered.

"You think I can just walk away?" she asked.

"I think you already did," Elias replied. "The old you wouldn't have hesitated. Wouldn't have listened. Wouldn't have joked about socks."

A sound escaped her. A breath that was almost—almost—a laugh.

She looked down at the broken creature before her, and for a heartbeat, Elias saw the conflict in her eyes. Not hatred. Not fear.

Pity. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

She extinguished the fire. "I hope you find something else to worship," she told it. "Because I'm not your goddess."

And she turned her back.

As they walked out of the chamber—Elias steady beside her, the cultist groaning behind—they didn't speak right away. But eventually:

"You really think I've changed?" she asked.

"I think you're changing," Elias said. "Present progressive tense."

She groaned. "Ugh. That's what we're doing now? Grammar?"

"You brought up socks."

They were almost to the staircase when she muttered, "Still should've roasted him a little. Just a sizzle."

Elias smiled. "Maybe next time."

She smirked. "Promise?"

"Only if you promise not to burn the bedsheets again."

"I make no such promises."

To be continued...