Chained Hearts: From Slavery to Sovereignty-Chapter 139: The baby demon

The food was gone, the warmth in his belly fading, and yet... no one came.

Cassian had waited. He sat near the window, his eyes trailing the strange shifting sky outside—a canvas of pale crimson and golds, where no sun could be seen but light existed nonetheless. He waited, hoping the maid or someone, anyone, would return to answer the storm of questions in his mind.

But hours passed.

And nothing.

There was no knock, no movement or even shadows under the door.

The silence grew too heavy to ignore.

Cassian stood, the long robe swaying around his legs as he moved toward the door. He hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the curved handle. He wasn’t sure what waited outside—or if anything waited at all—but sitting here, doing nothing, was driving him insane.

I need answers, he told himself. I need to know who brought me here... what happened to the demon in that coffin... and most of all—who was the one who saved me and why hasn’t he shown himself?

He pulled the door open.

The hallway outside was wide and curved gently, flanked by tall, arching pillars with glowing crystals set into the walls. The stones beneath his feet were dark but polished to a mirror-like sheen, and they made no sound under his steps, no matter how heavily he walked.

He turned a corner.

No one.

Another hallway.

Empty.

He passed a grand stairwell with floating lanterns bobbing quietly in the air like fireflies, but there were no footsteps, no voices, no echoes of laughter or life. Just the eerie stillness of a palace untouched by time.

Cassian paused in the middle of the corridor, his chest tight with unease.

Where is everyone?

This couldn’t be right. Even in noble estates back in the human realm, there were always servants bustling about, guards patrolling, nobles speaking in hushed voices behind closed doors. But this place—this demon palace—felt like a beautiful corpse.

Silent.

Elegant.

Dead.

He moved again, pushing through ornate doors that led him into open balconies and long courtyards. And still, not a soul in sight.

What struck him more than the absence of people was the sheer, overwhelming beauty of the place.

The palace was massive—made of deep blue stone veined with silver, its architecture foreign yet flawless. There were gardens growing flowers he’d never seen before—luminous vines and star-shaped petals that glowed faintly in the dim light. Waterfalls spilled from floating platforms above, cascading gently into pools so clear he could see the stones at the bottom shimmering like moonlight.

It was surreal. Ethereal. Almost divine.

But Cassian wasn’t comforted.

Because no matter how breathtaking it looked... it felt hollow.

He reached what appeared to be the central courtyard—a circular open space surrounded by high walls and twisted trees that looked like they had been carved from obsidian. A giant fountain stood in the middle, but the water had long since stopped flowing.

Cassian sat on the edge of the fountain and rubbed his face with both hands.

How many days have I been unconscious?

What happened to my team? Alistair, Keren, the others...

Were they able to get out of the temple? Did they try to find me?

The last image he remembered—before blacking out—was the explosion of dust, that powerful voice that spoke with chilling sarcasm, and then arms holding him close. In a possessive grip.

Then nothing.

He still didn’t even know who had pulled him from that coffin. The demon of lust had nearly devoured him—literally—and then this second presence, colder and more terrifying in his strength, had torn them apart. But why hadn’t that man come back?

Was he a prisoner?

A guest?

Or something else?

But suddenly, Cassian lifted his head, eyes narrowing at a faint sound—a soft thump, then another. Not footsteps. Something lighter, almost playful.

He stood slowly, heart quickening as he scanned the silent courtyard.

Then he saw it.

From behind a spiraling stone column, a small creature emerged.

At first, he tensed, uncertain—ready to bolt if needed. But what waddled into view was nothing like the nightmares he’d encountered before.

It looked like a baby... demon, maybe? No taller than his knee, with chubby limbs, a soft violet-gray skin, and two tiny wings that fluttered uselessly on its back like they hadn’t learned to lift yet. Its large golden eyes sparkled with mischief, and a single curved horn peeked from its forehead, gleaming like polished onyx.

It stumbled clumsily across the courtyard stones, making a sound that almost resembled a giggle.

Cassian blinked.

The little creature tripped on its own foot and fell face-first—but then quickly bounced up again, unbothered, and toddled toward him.

"What in the world..." Cassian whispered, unsure if he was hallucinating. But the little demonling didn’t care. It reached his feet and, to his stunned disbelief, began tugging at the hem of his robe.

Tiny claws snagged the fabric as the creature let out a series of delighted chirps, then plopped itself onto his boot like it had claimed him.

He crouched and reached out a hand. The moment his fingers brushed the creature’s soft, warm forehead, it let out a contented purr—actually purred—and leaned into his palm.

Something shifted in Cassian’s chest.

This place, for all its silent grandeur and terrifying emptiness, had just shown him a glimpse of life.

A strange, beautiful, innocent piece of it.

"You’re not supposed to be here alone, are you?" he murmured, barely recognizing the gentleness in his own voice.

The baby demon blinked up at him and hiccupped.

Then, with surprising speed, it clambered up onto his lap and curled there like a sleepy cat, one wing draping over his wrist.

Cassian didn’t move.

For the first time since waking, the silence around him felt less cruel. Less lonely.

And in that fragile stillness, he began to wonder—if a child like this lived here, who was caring for it?

And how much more of this strange, hidden world had he yet to see?

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