Ivanka opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Demian straightened.
"If death was always meant to be part of the story you sold me," he said coldly, "then that threat should mean nothing."
He looked at her once more this time without anger, without emotion, without even a trace of mercy.
"But the way you cling to me," he went on, "the way you beg while invoking bonds and death… that is not the voice of someone ready to die."
Ivanka trembled.
"That," Demian finished quietly, "is the voice of someone afraid of losing control."
Silence fell between them.
Demian turned and resumed his steps.
"I am returning to my castle," he said without looking back. "And I will search for the person who has been taken from me."
He paused briefly, then added soft, but lethal,
"Pray that your fear does not prove to be a lie."
Ivanka stood frozen on the steps.
Demian left without looking back.
