As we drew closer to the chained warlock, the pungent smell of metallic hit my nose.

"Edgar," Grimm called.

He groaned as I heard the movement of the chains shifting. "Who are you? Nicolás' supporters? Rebellion supporters?"

I wanted to ask Grimm and the supposed warlock named Edgar questions but I was curious as to what Edgar would reveal about my father.

But Grimm didn't answer his question, instead, he said. "You tried to burn Hans."

Edgar responded seethingly. "He is not dead but he will be. You'll both be—"

He says again. "You tried to burn Hans." Suddenly I feel a snake-like sensation around the ankles of my boots, I glance down at my boots but I can't see anything, only feel the slithering. He is moving the shadows.

Grimm moves forward, stretching my hand out from behind. "I do not appreciate it when someone tries to hurt my best torturer. But I can understand stupidity as demons cannot be burned."

The shadows weren't hurting me. They were moving silkily around my body forming a cocoon and cradling me as a full violent wind passed through the floor. The building shook in distraught as I imagined what could've caused such commotion. It must've been Hans displaying his full black wings and red ember eyes as I heard the movement of chains rattled in an urgent panic.

Edgar thrashed his body around and tirelessly as he uttered words from a language that hadn't spoken for so long. Latin. But it did nothing.

"Enough," Grimm said coolly. "These chains were forged in Hell for supernatural creatures like yourself to remain powerless. Now, you keep wasting your breath on useless spells or you can make yourself useful."

Edgar let out a ragged Latin word but nothing happened.

I heard him inhale sharply. "Not even Nicolás De Luna is this cruel. You should've left me for dead as he planned."

"You're still going to die but you should make use of what little time you've left," Grimm replied.

I then felt a tug at my hand and knew it was time to let myself be seen. I stepped away from Grimm's back leaving the shadows and slipped under the pale moonlight. I took Edgar's appearance, he wore a gray coat covered in dirt and blood. His hair stuck on his forehead from his own sweat as his chest rose up and down heavily.

And Hans stood behind Edgar in his true form, as a loyal winged demon.

Edgar lifted his gaze until he met mine. His head tilted to the side as his eyes drifted down to my cheekbone, to the three-dotted birthmarks. His eyes widened but his lips curved upwards. I had the same lunares as my father, or so they say. I guess it was what gave me away as the daughter of Nicolás De Luna.

"I'll be damned. I came looking for Nicolás De Luna but I found his child instead." He pushed himself closer to see me but the chains restrained him. "I heard Nicolás' had a son, fifteen years ago, but you don't look fifteen. Maybe you could be one of his brother's daughters." Edgar shook his head as he spoke to himself. "No, no. You look like him. You look like him when he was younger but prettier."

His gaze turned to Grimm. "Let me go. Let me go and let me kill her. Nicolás owes me a life." 

I kept a poker face but my hand gripped Grimm's hand and although I wore lace gloves I sunk my nails into his cool skin. If I was hurting him, Grimm didn't make a sound or face. He kept himself collected while he let me be.

Edgar rattled the chains again. "I knew your mother as well. I remember her viper eyes. You could look like her." He sneered. "Dead." I almost dropped Grimm's hand ready to grab any piece of material laying on the floor that was sharp enough to cut his tongue or gouge his eyes out.

But Grimm squeezed my hand.

"Everyone believes Nicolás' life goal was revenge for his family, his wife, and his child. But I always knew he was hiding something. How can someone be on a rampage for fifteen years? It's too long for it to be revenge. He is killing because he is afraid." His eyes widened at his own words, his revelation. "He is distracting us, making us all live in fear. The whole council, the witches, and the warlocks in this country are all afraid of Nicolás De Luna. But he has a fear, a weakness."

No. My father, he doesn't care—

"A daughter." Edgar hissed.

I'm not—

"Hans," Grimm called his name but there was an underlying command, an unspoken order Hans seemed to understand. He followed it as he swiftly gripped Edgar's shoulders and pushed him down forcefully, you could hear his bones shatter as the shin of his knees hit the cemented ground.

Edgar shouted in agony. Grimm gently moved his hand from mine, I didn't want him to let go but my hand fell back to my side. He walked up to Edgar and grasped him by the throat, lifting his face to him.

"You've insulted me twice. You tried to burn my demon. You tried to hurt my banshee." He said icily. "And you're not proving yourself useful."

Edgar gasped out. "What—What do—you want?"

"How many of you know Nicolas has a daughter? How many of you are after him?" Grimm asked.

I waited for an answer.

Edgar wheezed out. "Rumor—It's a rumor." Grimm lessened his hold. "Anyone whose life has been destroyed by Nicolas self-volunteers to kill him. He killed over a hundred witches and warlocks. How many do you think are after him? Sons and daughters. Mothers and fathers. Families."

"But you took his family first," I said as I moved to him, blank and unfazed by his opinions about my father.

And as I walk towards him, I can see his anger switching to panic. His eyes are moving rapidly between my face and—

"So, you can speak." He says out of breath.

My hands. He is cautiously checking my hands and flinching over the movement of my mouth as if he is trying to catch the words that might come out of my lips. He's scared of me. I haven't done anything and yet, he's scared of me.

Edgar spitted out. "You don't feel bad for the devil, do you?" I paid no attention to his words anymore.

Out of curiosity, I raised my right hand slowly and slightly opened my mouth as if I would say something. He quickly turns his head and squeezes his eyes shut like he is waiting for something to happen. But he confirms my curiosity—He is afraid of me.

This was useful.

I look over to Grimm as I feel my mouth twitching. I pressed my lips together, suppressing the smile. For someone who spoke so boldly about wanting to kill me, I thought, I liked how he cowered over my mere hand. I almost wanted to laugh.

Grimm looked at Edgar. "No, you don't feel sorry for the devil." His crimson lips curled. "But you beg him for mercy."

With that, in one swift motion, Hans pulled Edgar from the ground yanking the chains from his wrists. He yelped as Hans flew them out the slashed arched window, shattering it in the process as the wind poured in with ferocity making the hood of my coat fall from my head.

We walked toward the non-existent window as the heels of our shoes crushed the glass in tune. Grimm moved his hand upwards forming a grasp and the darkness he controlled, filled it with his scythe.

We came to halt at the edge of the building. In the open endless night, where nothing should be seen we faced a pair of glowing red eyes. Hans showed no mercy to the man who squirmed his arms in the night sky; he kept a steady hold until Grimm said otherwise. His wings seamlessly blended with the night, barely able to see the contour but his feathers spiked up like razor blades.

"I told—I told you what you wanted." Edgar cried out. "They'll all come—come for you. You're going to die. All—All of you."

"But tonight, you're going to die." I let the words ring out.

I feel no pity or guilt for what's about to happen because I knew if this man was set free, he would kill me. I intend to keep the promise I made to myself, if they don't succeed in killing me then I'll be the prettiest bitter bitch they'll have ever met. I don't plan to die for someone I don't know. I don't plan to die at the hands of someone I don't know.

Grimm slammed the bottom of his scythe against the concrete ground and the building trembled in response, I almost lost balance but Grimm's shadows swirled around me like protective armor. Then the sound of something splitting and tearing—

My eyes widened. 

It wasn't the building shaking, it was the ground from outside. I look down at the splitting and tearing on the Earth's ground. Grimm pounded the scythe once more to the concrete as if he called for something—ordering—demanding until something rose from the Earth and something did. It ruptured.

A tsunami of a blazing fire roared into the sky, raging like a hungry beast, crying as if it had been starved. I turned to Grimm, his knuckles bared white as he gripped his scythe as if his power would slip away if he let go.

But apart from that, there was a change in the atmosphere. Grimm's whole demeanor shifted as his face rotted away, he claimed this regal wickedness from his clothes to his posture, to his power, and to the way he looked at Edgar.

All the names and titles Grimm held were unveiled tonight and yet, the names and titles he carried dimly described what this being truly took.

He spoke above Edgar's shortened breaths. "I promise to make your death memorable. Tonight, Hell's fire will feast upon your soul. But first, it will melt the flesh of your skin then it will boil your organs until they burst and once that's done, it will chew and spit out the ashes of your worthless existence." Malice spilled from his mouth. "You like to watch people burn, I offer you the same end."

Edgar pleaded. "No—you can't—"

"This is my punishment for you." And the moment Grimm finished declaring his execution, Hans flew over Hell's fire and dropped a begging warlock named Edgar as the fire silenced his shouts and pleas. Grimm said he would burn them, he kept his promise.

But I wait for the guilt to play with my heart and as I wait, I feel as if I'm trying to force it out. The pressure wrings out of my shoulders, my hands, and my jaw, and I realize it's been a while since I last felt guilty.

I turn away, dispersing the shadows as I march out of the building leaving Grimm and Hans to enjoy watching the greedy fire, wailing for more.

That's what unsettled me—the pressure. The feeling of not feeling guilty, it's finally setting me free.

Or so I thought.