Lastor fell quiet.
His complexion didn't pale, but it took on a faint greenish hue, as if the memory crawling up his spine turned his very blood cold. His eyes unfocused for a moment, trapped in something he clearly didn't want to relive. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it clung to him, like a haunting ghost.
He wrung his hands, his jaw tightening as though the act of speaking would tear something loose inside him.
Then, in a low, brittle voice, he whispered, "Did you know there was once a demon who grew bored of everything, absolutely everything, around him?"
Arabella blinked, uncertain. Demons were foreign to her, creatures spoken of in books and tales, with rules she didn't understand and desires even less. So when Lastor spoke of boredom, she tilted her head slightly, confusion flickering in her green eyes.
She shook her head.
