Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 140

**KACIA**

Eventually Oz stirs awake beside me. He moves like someone twice his age, every motion stiff, his breath coming in a slow, heavy drag. He looks about how I feel, wrecked.

“Hey.” I greet him softly, my voice still rough from sleep.

“Hey.” He answers. There’s a slight pause in his tone, that faint hitch that tells me he’s testing the air, trying to gauge what kind of mood he’s waking up into. Concern flickers across his eyes before he hides it away. I reach out anyway, my fingers finding his hair. I smooth a hand through it slowly, then brush a few stray strands off his face, my thumb ghosting across his temple. His eyes flutter shut for a second under my touch, a tiny, involuntary shiver, before they flick open again.

“How long have you been awake?” He asks, voice low and thick with sleep.

“A while… I’ve been thinking.” I tell him. His mouth quirks faintly. 

“Dangerous. Thinking about what, Princess?” The endearment slips out naturally, soft but instinctive, like breathing. I take a slow breath, steadying myself. 

“I’m thinking that it’s time for us to stop waiting for my grandfather to succeed at killing me and to bring the fight to him.” I announce quietly. Oz tenses slightly at that, the muscles under my hand going rigid. His expression shifts as he searches mine, reading me carefully. He knows exactly how dangerous an idea that is, hell, I know it too. But the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Clearly, waiting, laying low and hoping my grandfather will lose interest, isn’t working. For a heartbeat we just look at each other, the air heavy between us, full of all the things we’ve survived and all the things waiting just ahead. As much as I know Oz wants to support me, I can still see it, that flicker of fear in his eyes, the way his shoulders stay too rigid beside me, like he’s holding himself braced for a blow. The sight makes something ache deep in my chest, and I sigh softly.

“I know I said us… But you don’t have to. I can deal with this on my own.” The words slip out in a rush, too fragile, too small, and even to my own ears they sound unconvincing. Oz turns his head sharply, eyes locking on mine with a look that is pure disbelief. If looks could talk, his would be saying ‘you really think I’d let you go through this alone?’

“Even if I didn’t have a life debt hovering over me, you know I could never abandon you to deal with this yourself.” He says, the firmness in his tone grounding me. I press my lips together, guilt gnawing at me. That damn bargain, the one I never asked for, never meant to make, it’s still there between us. Still binding him to me in a way that feels unfair, like a chain I never wanted him to wear. I swallow hard, feeling like I’ve forced him into this, like every promise he makes is less about choice and more about compulsion. The silence stretches. My chest tightens. And then Oz sighs, long and tired, but not unkind. He rolls his eyes at me like I’m being impossibly thick headed.

“Princess, being nervous is not the same as not wanting to support you. I’m scared because I know what we’re up against, not because I don’t want to stand with you.” He says softly. His voice drops lower, quieter, but there’s no mistaking the conviction in it. 

“If anything, the thought of you going in there alone terrifies me more than anything your grandfather could do to me. You get that, right? That I’d rather face him and whatever comes with it, than face a world where you’re gone?” His voice is sincere, full of conviction and absolutely heart breaking. My breath catches. Oz reaches over, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. 

“I don’t stay because of a bargain. I stay because I want to. Because you matter to me more than any law or deal ever could. So stop talking like I don’t have a choice. I’ve made my choice, Kacia. It’s you.” He promises. 

His words settle into me. Somehow that was both the best and worst thing he could possibly have said to me. 

“But… You’re not planning to stay.” I whisper, the words barely making it past the lump in my throat. 

“After we deal with him… You’re going to leave me.” I point out. It’s not an accusation, not really. More like the sound of a crack forming somewhere inside me that I’m trying to keep from splitting wide open. The room feels too quiet, the air too heavy. Oz winces, like I’ve just brushed against a wound. His eyes close briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s nothing flippant or guarded left in them at all.  

“Yeah… But Kaci, you know that’s not what I really want.” He admits softly, voice raw. He shifts a little, sitting up enough that he can look down at me properly. His fingers find mine automatically, thumb brushing slow, steady circles against my knuckles. 

“I need to keep you safe from me.” He murmurs. There’s so much in his expression I almost can’t stand it. Regret. Longing. Self loathing. It’s like watching a storm behind his eyes, all that power and guilt churning at once.

“I know what I am. And as much as I… As much as I want to stay, there’s a line I can’t cross. I won’t be the reason you’re looking over your shoulder in your own home. I won’t be another danger in your life. Another thing to keep you worried.” He says, and the words are heavy, final. His voice cracks a little on that last part. He swallows hard and keeps talking, like he’s afraid if he stops, he won’t be able to finish. 

“Because I’m like this… Because the nightmare magic’s just under the surface… I see it on people’s faces. Even when they try to hide it. Fear. Dread. I couldn’t stand to see that on you. Not again.” He explains. The thumb rubbing my knuckles stops, his fingers curling lightly around my hand as though he’s anchoring himself to it. 

“So yeah. After this is done, I’ll go. Not because I want to. Because I won’t risk hurting you.” He says firmly. It hits me harder than I expected, he’s trying to make this clear, it’s not rejection. It’s not coldness. It’s fear. He’s afraid of himself. Afraid of what being near me could do to me. And somehow, that hurts worse than if he’d just said he didn’t care at all. Because it isn’t just fear for me, it’s fear of himself. And worse, through every flicker of his expression, I can see it, disgust. Not for me, not for what we’ve gone through, but for himself. For what he is. For what he can’t change. It’s entirely unfair. I don’t want Oz to hate or resent a part of who he is just because it’s inconvenient in this moment. He’s more than that magic, more than the nightmare etched into his blood. But right now, he looks like he can’t separate himself from it. Like he thinks the nightmare part is the whole of him, instead of just one weapon he never asked for. There has to be a way around this. There has to be. I press my forehead into his shoulder, staring hard at nothing, forcing my thoughts to turn over and over. I can’t just accept that the answer is ‘live in fear’ or ‘say goodbye.”’That can’t be the ending. His nightmare magic… It isn’t cruelty. It isn’t malice. It’s a defense mechanism, a survival instinct built into his species to protect themselves. And what does it really do? Based on what we researched before everything went to hell, it’s basically just… Overloading a person’s system. Drowning them in magic and fear until their body can’t process anything else. It burns through them so completely that their mind panics, convinced they’re facing death. And they know exactly where it comes from. So the question isn’t what it is. I know what it is. The real question is, what can I do about it? And I refuse to believe the answer is nothing.