THE DEMON KING WHO WAITED FOR HER
by C.G.
The decision was made beneath the water and sealed by the ancestors.
Two months.
That was the time given before the grand wedding—two moons to prepare a union that would bind bloodlines, waters, forests, and worlds. Mako's uncles from his mother's side approved it with pride, while Linah's maternal kin nodded in agreement, already speaking of songs that had not been sung in generations.
Yet Linah's heart was restless.
She stood before the council, her hands clasped tightly, her voice trembling not with fear but with love.
"I cannot be married," she said softly, "without first standing before my parents."
The water spirits stirred.
"They think I am dead," Linah continued. "They buried grief while I walked between worlds. They raised me with nothing but faith and sacrifice. I must go home. I must tell them the truth."
Silence followed.
Then an elder spoke gently, "You honor your roots, child of Rute."
Mako stepped forward, placing his hand over Linah's.
"She is right," he said. "Before she becomes queen to the waters and forests, she must first be daughter to her parents."
The ancestors agreed.
It was decided.
Mako would go to the human world—not as a demon king, not as a ruler—but as a man coming to pay bride price, to kneel before those who gave Linah life.
Two weddings would follow.
One on land, among humans. One beneath water, among spirits.
And both would be sacred.
THE ROAD BACK TO THE LIVING WORLD
The waters parted quietly as Linah and Mako crossed from the hidden realm into the human world. Unlike their first escape, there was no chaos this time, only a deep stillness, as though the spirits themselves were holding their breath. Linah stood close to Mako, her fingers wrapped around his arm, feeling the weight of what lay ahead.
Behind them, the water spirits watched in silence. They had not stopped Linah. They had not tried to bind her to her true origin. Instead, they had allowed her to go — not as a fugitive, but as a daughter who still had unfinished ties to the living world.
Linah's heart was heavy.
She had survived death, rebirth, and revelation, yet the thought of facing her parents again terrified her more than any demon. For a year, she had vanished. For a year, they had mourned her, believing the earth had swallowed their only child.
Mako sensed her unease.
"We will do this the right way," he said gently. "As your people expect. As mine expect."
Linah nodded. That was why she loved him. Even with his power and authority, he did not rush sacred things.
They did not go to Linah's village first.
Instead, they returned to Mako's residence, the grand mansion that once represented nothing more than employment and hierarchy to Linah. Now, as the gates opened and the familiar walls came into view, her chest tightened with memories — of long working hours, quiet glances, unspoken feelings, and the day she disappeared from this very world.
The vehicle had barely stopped when the front doors burst open.
Aunt Rose stood frozen at the entrance.
For a moment, she did not move. Her eyes widened, her hand flew to her mouth, and her knees almost buckled as she stared at the two figures walking toward her. The color drained from her face, then rushed back in a flood of emotion.
"Linah…?" her voice trembled, as though she were speaking to a ghost.
Linah took two steps forward, and that was all it took.
Aunt Rose let out a broken cry and ran, wrapping Linah in a fierce embrace. She touched Linah's face again and again, as if afraid she might disappear.
"My child… my child," she sobbed. "We buried you in our hearts. Do you know how many nights I cried for you?"
Tears streamed freely down Linah's cheeks. "I'm sorry, Aunt Rose. I'm so sorry."
Only then did Aunt Rose turn her tear-filled eyes toward Mako. Her expression shifted — shock, confusion, and finally deep respect. She bowed her head slightly, something she had never done before.
"Boss… you brought her back."
Mako nodded solemnly. "She was never gone by choice."
The mansion buzzed quietly with whispers as staff members peered from corners, disbelief written on every face.
Linah was alive. And she had returned not as an employee — but as the woman standing beside Mako.
For the next three days, Linah stayed at the mansion as a guest, not as a wife, not as a possession. Mako ensured boundaries were respected, honoring both her parents and her culture.
They spent time talking, walking in the gardens, and sharing meals, but always with restraint.
At night, Linah lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to her parents' small village home. She imagined her mother's quiet strength, her father's tired hands, and the empty chair that had remained untouched since her disappearance.
"I can't marry you without seeing them," she finally said on the third morning. "Not after everything they sacrificed for me."
Mako had already made his decision long before she spoke.
"We will go to them," he replied. "But not alone."
He summoned John, his trusted assistant — a man known for wisdom, respect, and understanding of tradition.
"You will accompany me," Mako told him. "You will speak for us. We will ask properly."
John bowed his head. "I am honored."
Preparations began immediately.
Traditional gifts were carefully selected. Elders were consulted quietly. Every step was deliberate, respectful, and slow — as marriage was meant to be.
Linah watched as everything unfolded, her heart pounding. Soon, she would stand before her parents again — not as a missing daughter, but as a woman being asked for.
As they prepared to leave, Linah stood at the gate of the mansion, gripping her small bag. She turned to Aunt Rose, who held her hands tightly, eyes filled with both pride and worry.
"Go," Aunt Rose said softly. "Let them see that you are alive. Let them see that you are loved."
Linah nodded, unable to speak.
The vehicle began to move.
As the mansion disappeared behind them, Linah looked ahead at the long road stretching toward her village. Somewhere at the end of it were two aging parents who had cried themselves to sleep for a year, never knowing their daughter would return like this.
Her chest tightened with fear.
Hope followed closely behind.
Neither of them noticed the shadow that lingered briefly at the far edge of the property — watching, waiting — before vanishing into the trees.
The journey had begun.
THE PARENTS WHO NEVER STOPPED WAITING
In the human world, Linah's parents had learned to live with an ache that never healed.
A year had passed since their daughter vanished.
Some said she ran away. Some said she was taken. Some said she was dead.
But her mother refused to accept any of it.
Every morning, she swept the yard as if Linah might return and find it clean. Every evening, her father sat quietly at the doorway, watching the road that led nowhere.
Then one afternoon, the air shifted.
Linah's mother stopped mid-step.
"My child is near," she whispered.
END OF CHAPTER EIGHTEEN