InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Heart Within ❯ Chapter Twenty-Eight ( Chapter 30 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, etc., of Inuyasha or Yu Yu Hakusho. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and not for profit.THE HEART WITHINSummary: She has carried vengeance in her shadowed heart for 500 years, sacrificing her self for that dream. Now, Sango just might get her chance… (IY/YYH crossover) A/N: Thank you for staying with this story. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m wrapping it around the Three Kings saga, though twisting it just a tad, smirk. Though don't expect everything to pan out as you think it will. Hiei is not out of the running yet. (MWAHAHAHAA)
WARNING! SPOILERS FOR YYH CHAPTER BLACK, THE THREE KINGS SAGA


Chapter Twenty-Eight

He was gone.

Just like everyone else.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Sango sat with her back against the wall furthest from where she’d awoken, dressed and alone, as if nothing had happened between them. Except for the soreness of her body, the four white belts that lay torn in half scattered around, and the aching sensation in her heart, she might have dreamt it. But this she could not dream.

She was too tired for tears. Laying her head on her knees, she waited.


He was conscious on a deeper level when the spiders finally withdrew. The icy breath of their numerous positions around the defensive barrier he’d erected disappeared, and the cold retreated. Ever cautious, he waited, in case it was a trick. But when nothing occurred, he finally let himself unwind from the curl of hibernation, fluidly rising to his feet with a rose in hand to greet those who had just stepped through the fleshy wall to greet him.

“Hiei?” Kurama asked, startled by the bandaged-wrapped figure who stepped through the opening after the red-eyed apparition. What was the fire demon doing with Lord Mukuro, of all people? He tried to ask that question telepathically, but the apparition’s mind was closed to him.

Eyes narrowing, Kurama kept the rose ready in his hand. Never one to waste words, he waited for them to explain themselves.

“It is unfortunate we must meet under such…difficult…circumstances, Kurama.” The king swept him an ironic bow. The bulging blue eye glittered. “Though I must admit, fox, to underestimating you. As many have, I understand, to their detriment.”

Kurama did not have time to play word-games with the demon king. Staring at Hiei, he demanded, “Where’s Sango?”

“Oh, she is well enough,” Mukuro smoothly interceded. “Hiei has seen to that, haven’t you, Hiei?”

Kurama stiffened at the acidity in the king’s voice, but Hiei did not react beyond a flick of his smoldering red eyes in the king’s direction before calmly crossing his arms. “I suggest you leave us alone so I can explain.”

Mukuro stared at the shorter apparition for a long moment. “Very well,” he finally conceded, “though do not tarry. It would be better to begin your training right away, so as not to waste any more time.”

*Training?* Kurama’s eyes cut to the fire demon, but he remained impassive.

“Oh! There is just one more thing.” Mukuro paused, the bandaged-wrapped head turning back to Kurama. “My men…intercepted…a message for you, Kurama. From Lord Yomi.”

Kurama jerked. “Did you say---Yomi?”

“Why, yes. You must know of him. He has been a thorn in my side for a while now.” The blue eye gleamed with vicious amusement. “Quite the thorny problem, our Yomi.”

The king waved a dismissive hand. “But that is neither here nor there, and our Hiei grows impatient. You really must learn to control your emotions better, Hiei. Passion is good in its place, but it must be tempered by prudence. Is that not true, Kurama?”

Kurama revealed none of his disgust for the king’s deliberate baiting. As formidable as rumor had painted him, the king was also living up to his reputation for petty cruelty. He was like a little bully, the kind who delighted in pulling the wings off flies just to watch them struggle and die.

The king shrugged. Turning to the parted mouth in the fleshy wall, he waved his bound hands back towards Kurama. A small, glowing globe appeared, floating through the air to stop before the kitsune.

“A Spirit of Words,” the king said unnecessarily. “Consider it my parting gift to you, Kurama.” He did not take it. With an ironic bow, the king left. The mouth sealed behind him, leaving the two demons alone.

“It’s not rigged,” Hiei growled, deliberately nicking the floating ball out of the air and holding it out with disdain. “If that’s what you think.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Kurama replied, more sharply than he’d intended. Hiei only looked at him. With a sigh, Kurama dissolved the rose in his hand. “Care to explain, now that we are alone?” Though they both knew they weren’t. The very room they stood in was a spy in itself.

Hiei looked down at the small globe in his hand. His thumb traced over the milky surface. “Hn. Old Bandage Face has invited me to stay and train with him. I’ve decided to take him up on the offer.”

“Train with him,” Kurama repeated with dry disbelief.

Hiei was not one to shrug. His red eyes rose, meeting the fox’s squarely. “Yes.”

Folding his arms, Kurama leaned back against the wall with a deceptively careless pose. “And if I asked why, would you even answer?”

“Hn.” The corner of Hiei’s mouth twitched. “You know me too well, fox.”

“Not well enough, it seems.” Kurama swept his wayward bangs back with a tired gesture.

“Turn about is fair play.” Hiei’s red eyes bored into his.

“Touché,” Kurama conceded. They stared at each other for a long moment, a thousand things left unsaid between them but each silently understanding the other as they always could.

It was Hiei, actually, who turned away. He stared at the wall, though Kurama wondered if he even saw it. “She’s not all right.”

“Who?” Kurama demanded, though he knew. *Sango.*

“Her brother’s dead.” Hiei’s voice was flat, but he still wouldn’t look at Kurama, which said the fire demon wasn‘t as unaffected as he tried to pretend.

Kurama sucked in his breath. “And Naraku?”

“Dead as well.”

“Was it Sango?”

“No.” Hiei’s hand tightened on the small globe.

“Then how…?” Kurama was getting impatient with the fire demon’s monosyllables. Dragging information out of Hiei was always a challenge, but he didn’t have patience right now for the touchy demon’s intransigence.

“The spider-baboon was killed by a flea demon just after he arrived in Makai, or so that strange mummy, Murkuro, said.” Hiei finally turned his head and met Kurama’s troubled gaze. “The boy was already dead.”

“What about the Jewel?”

“Hn. The king doesn’t know, and could care less. The Jewel doesn’t interest him.” Hiei’s gaze slid past his, his expression growing distant as he abruptly said, “She’ll need your help.”

Kurama raised a single brow at the pointed singularity of that flat statement. So, the fire demon meant what he said and would stay here and train, and it had some reason to do with Sango. Not that Hiei would explain why, but Kurama couldn’t resist challenging, “And not yours?”

Hiei’s eyes snapped back to his, anger stiffening his shoulders and adding a hot glower to his scarlet gaze. “I cannot help her.”

“Really.” Kurama’s green eyes narrowed.

“Don’t test me, fox. There are limits, even for you,” Hiei growled, hand creeping to his sword.

Kurama refused to be baited. He refused to let his acute disappointment in the apparition show, accepting that Hiei had reached that limit. Folding his arms, he said indifferently, “Very well. But what of Sango? Does the king wish to keep her as he wishes to keep you?”

“No one keeps me, fox.” Hiei’s eyes bled.

“So I noticed.” Kurama could not help the bitterness in his voice, and struggled to reign in his disappointment. The flash of emotion actually caused Hiei to let go of his sword, the angry glow dying from the scarlet eyes as he turned back to fully face the fox.

“Hn.” His gaze dropped to the globe in his hand, and he held it out. “Here. This is yours. I can take a guess at what it contains.”

Kurama raised a wry brow but gingerly took the small white orb. It felt heavier than it should in his palm. Memories made him frown. They weren’t his memories, but Youko’s---which hardly mattered, since that meant they were his, too. Especially as he would be the one to deal with the consequences of the former thief’s actions.

He felt the weight of Hiei’s sharp regard, and with his typical shrewd discernment, the demon demanded, “And what is Yomi to you, fox?”

Kurama frowned. “One might say an old friend.”

“Hn.”

Kurama was grateful Hiei let it go at that, guiltily aware that he did not want the shorter demon to know the sordid details. Or Mukuro, for that matter. Perhaps Hiei understood that, for Kurama felt him slip inside his mind, as he had not permitted before.

*You’re off to Yomi’s then.*

Kurama started, but slowly nodded. *If you’re right, and this Spirit of Words contains an invitation from the third King to join him---as Raizen has Yusuke and Mukuro has you---than yes, I will take him up on it.*

Hiei sneered. *Who says I have ‘joined’ Mukuro?*

Kurama straightened, his green eyes trying to puzzle out the fire apparition’s unreadable expression. *So, you understand the deeper significance of each King asking for one of us to serve them.*

“Hn.” Hiei’s smile was smug. *How much longer will Raizen live? A year at most? It would take a particular Kuwabara kind of stupidity not to see what will happen then.*

*War.* Kurama stared at the faintly glowing globe in his hand. It brightened, as if it somehow knew he was looking at it. His wandering thoughts bled through the link between them. *One that could not only rip Makai apart, but bleed over into the human world…*

Hiei’s red eyes only flicked to his. He did not bother voicing his challenge that Kurama had people in human world that he cared too much about.

Stung by the demon’s silent criticism, Kurama challenged, *And what about Yukina? She now lives in Human World, too. Are you saying you wouldn’t do anything you could to protect her?*

Hiei looked away. “She no longer needs my protection, fox. She has---others.”

Yes, she had others. Not only the powerful priestess, Genkai, but the stalwart Kuwabara, who loved her with that self-sacrificing type of love that would do anything to make the other happy, even leave them. Such unselfishness was both rare and precious, and completely baffling to the fox. To sacrifice one’s own desires, even one’s own self, for another---Kurama did not know if that was something he was even capable of. Or ever wanted; for that put too much control in another’s hands who might not feel the same or have your best interests at heart. That was a loss of personal control he could not contemplate. He had once considered making that ultimate sacrifice---ending his own life to save his mother’s---but he wondered if he was even capable of that now, with Youko’s heightened influence. Ever since the battle with Sensui, he had become guiltily aware that the fox’s spirit was wrapped even more tightly to his.

Still, the fact that Hiei was willing to let his sister go, and in the wake of the terrible news of how Sango had lost her brother----that spoke of a widening schism within the fire apparition between himself and others. There were few Hiei had ever cared (or let himself care) about, and the fact that the most important one---his sister---was now not a concern was deeply troubling.

Knowing instinctively that the apparition would not welcome his intrusion on that front, Kurama abruptly said aloud, “You could certainly benefit from the training Mukuro has offered.”

“Oh, I intend to.” The glitter in Hiei’s eyes and the smug twist of his lips made Kurama shiver, for it was reminiscent of the cruel, power-hungry demon he had first met. He wondered, suddenly, who he had to fear more---Hiei, or Mukuro.

“Remember there are others to consider,” he reminded sharply, and a thin brow lifted.

“When I have ever troubled myself about others, fox? You really don’t know me that well, do you?”

“Heh.” Kurama suddenly smiled. That act had never fooled anyone.

Hiei shot him an angry look. So be it.

“As you will, then,” he said aloud, adding silently, *Just remember there is far more at stake than just us in all this, Hiei.*

“Hn.” The demon sneered. *As if you don’t have your own selfish reasons, Kurama, for joining that scheming upstart, Yomi. You would do well to remember your own advice, when the time comes.*

Chilled by the demon’s insight, Kurama wondered warily how much he might have guessed of the real reasons he would go to Yomi. The history that lay between him and the king---and how strange was that, that the brash demon and close friend Youko had once put a hit on was now strong enough to challenge powerful demons like Raizen and Mukuro---might help him decide, for once and for all, who would win---himself, or Youko.

But that was not Hiei’s concern. The fire apparition wasn’t the only one who could feel the schism widening between himself and others. Even Yusuke had his own selfish reasons for training under Raizen---he wanted to get strong enough to kick his pseudo-father’s ass. The irony of their self-interest was not lost on Kurama, and he smiled thinly, nodding once to acknowledge how Hiei had once again hit the nail on the head.

Kurama abruptly straightened, resuming his cool demeanor as he said with distant courtesy, “It would be best if we leave right away. The king seems anxious to begin your training, and as he so adroitly pointed out, time is wasting.”

“Hn.” Hiei’s lip curled. His eyes raked over Kurama, but he did not bother to comment.

“Perhaps you could summon one of Mukuro’s minions to escort me to the taiji-ya?” Kurama politely inquired, knowing that they would be allowed to depart the castle, and kingdom, without contention. The king had already publicly proclaimed him a guest, and Mukuro was, if nothing else, a rabid traditionalist. The sanctity of a guest in one’s home, even among the most bitter of enemies, was sacred.

“Hn.” Hiei raised one hand in farewell or perhaps, to signal the living fortress that he was ready to go. A mouth obligingly formed along the fleshy wall. Hiei paused just before leaving, his back to the red-haired fox. The smallest crack appeared in the apparition’s armor when he growled low, “Take care of her, fox.”

Kurama solemnly nodded, using the gesture as both agreement and farewell. He wondered at the aching feeling inside his chest as the apparition abruptly vanished, but deliberately pushed it aside when a tall demon in plated armor bowed to him.

“Youko Kurama? I am Commander Kirin. The king has done me the honor of escorting you and the changeling to the edge of our territory with a small band of our finest men. For your own safety, of course.”

“Of course,” Kurama replied dryly. The “honor guard” was not unexpected, but it was rather inconvenient. It couldn’t be helped, though, and he was now anxious to be on his way. “Please tell your King I am flattered by his thoughtfulness, and as I am anxious to get going, would you please show me to the taiji-ya?”

“The King perceived your desire, Kurama-san, and my men are waiting outside the front gates for us. If you will follow me.” The Commander bowed with ironic diffidence, and Kurama nodded once in return. The courtesies must always be observed.

Kurama followed the armored demon through shadowed corridors possibly kept dim to keep the terrible clash of colors favored by Mukuro’s court from hurting one’s eyes. The commander’s light grey-green armor was complimented by ragged ankle-length skirts of eye-popping scarlet and yellow. Even with the bad choice in fashion, Mukuro’s second-in-command presented a formidable sight, to both the kitsune’s natural and astral senses. Definitely an S-class demon, and by training his body the hard, slow way---through strenuous, physical means, and not the chemical or biological enhancement of simply dining on ningen.Ironic that the flesh-eating subjects of the human-sympathizing Raizen did not adhere to the same philosophy as this Demonic Arts Guru, when it was Kirin’s king who did not care if youkai ate humans or not.

Kirin abruptly stopped, and the wall parted before him without any signal that Kurama could detect. The iron-colored demon gestured him to precede, and Kurama ducked inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the huddled figure sitting against the far wall. Her head rose, and his breath caught at the haunted brown eyes that slowly focused on him.

“Sango,” was all he said, going and kneeling beside her. He lightly cupped her cheek, pity darkening his green eyes as she held herself stiff for a moment, and then crumpled into his waiting arms. She sobbed, once, against his shoulder, and then stopped, refusing to shed any more. Kurama’s nostrils expanded, taking in the mingled scent of sex and tears and a certain fire demon that lingered across her skin, and his eyes closed. *Damn.*

Tenderly gathering the slayer’s slight body into his arms, he stood back up. She did not resist, just turned her head into the red curtain of his hair as one hand lay flat against his chest, just over his thudding heart. Silky black tresses spilled over his arm, and he tightened his hold in tacit understanding as she went limp, perhaps still too much in shock to recover her normal barriers. Frowning, Kurama looked over the girl’s dark head at the waiting demon.

“Let’s go, Commander.”

“Of course.” The youkai paused, and showing surprising compassion, asked delicately, “Does your companion need a few minutes?”

“She’ll do,” Kurama replied, and the commander, taking him at his word, nodded sharply. Following the demon’s long stride, Kurama was more than ready to shake the dirt from this place off his shoes.


Perhaps it was the shock of having her whole life turned inside out, but Sango could not react to anything past a certain numb sense of unreality. Nothing could touch her, not really, and it felt like she was just going through the motions because there was nothing else she could do. Nothing affected her, not Kurama’s silent worry, or the other demon’s---the commander’s---polite concern. She answered them distantly, saying she was fine, or pointedly changing the subject. They had to be content with that, for she refused to offer more.

The trip from Mukuro’s fortress was even more surreal than the initial, week-long journey she’d shared with Hiei and Kurama. Following no road that she could discern, they made a relatively straight line for the border the king shared with the third ruler of Makai, who was nothing past a name to Sango. She couldn’t summon the energy to ask why they were going there instead of returning to Raizen’s territory. For once in her life, she was content to let someone else make decisions, too lost inside her numb world to truly care. What was the point? One place was much like another, when all was said and done. With both Naraku and her brother dead, nothing really mattered anymore.

Their escort was made up of four of Mukuro’s Elite Guards. Being in such close proximity to S-class demons would normally have her on edge, but Sango was too numb to care about that, either. Her sword and knives had been destroyed in that last blast, when she’d summoned all of her energy to destroy the fortress and what she’d thought was Naraku into oblivion, as had her clothing. The king’s---Sango could not call her a “queen,” even if she had been at liberty to do so---charity ill-fit her, but it was all she had. Kurama, at least, had returned her cloak, and the demon-commander, Kirin, had stopped in a small village and bought sandals for her, realizing she now had none of her own.

They were well provisioned, and spent most nights at an inn, though those grew sparse once they reached the contested wilderness between Yomi and Mukuro’s lands. Sango did not protest when Kurama shared her room, kindly ordering a second pallet be made on the floor at the foot of her futon.He must have won some money off Mukuro’s guards, or perhaps, Kirin had given him some, for he returned one day after they stopped for a midday meal at the last army outpost with clothing to replace their ragged garments. Clad in white slacks, a buttoned-down navy shirt and brown leather jacket, he looked even more handsome than he had in his light green robe.

Sadly, there had been nothing small enough to properly fit her, for the kitsune had had to trade with the men stationed at the garrison. Sango had to make do with a pair of rolled-up jeans and a men’s T-shirt that at least fit her better than Mukuro’s blouse, though she switched between the two, grateful to have more than one shirt to wear. Better, anyway, was the small dagger Kurama brought her. It wasn’t much, too small and decorative to be practical, but it felt good to have the familiar weight of a weapon at her hip.

That was the first time she had smiled since learning the truth about Naraku and her brother, and it felt odd. Kurama had returned it, his green eyes warming as his hand gently cupped her upturned cheek, his thumb lightly grazing along her jaw. The look in his dark eyes had made Sango’s heart twist. Wary of too much emotion---which threatened the brittle shield she had built over the pain---Sango had quickly retreated with a hasty excuse.

Ashamed by her reaction to what had only been generosity on his part, Sango awkwardly tried to apologize, but Kurama only changed the subject, as he was so good at doing. He was courteous, and kind, as they all were, even those guards of Mukuro’s who had sneered before in typical demon fashion at the two “half-breeds” but had slowly started aping their commander’s respectful courtesy. It bothered her, that they felt the need to treat her so…delicately, as if she were something that might shatter. True, her whole world was now in ruins, but she…well, she didn’t know what she was, she just knew (and was ashamed of that, too) that she was stronger than that. She was just too---numb---right now to deal with it. She would, though. Eventually.

But for now it was enough to put one foot in front of the other as she listened to the men murmur around her, Kirin and Kurama having struck up an odd acquaintance. While not exactly friendly, they treated each other with a mutual respect and grave regard. The nearly seven-foot demon did not go out of his way to speak to Sango specifically, but was always polite, inquiring if she needed anything and if she were well. She deflected his questions, though they were just general courtesy, and he let it go at that.

She saw him once with his helm off. Expecting some hideous deformity or scar, she was surprised by the handsome, if definitely shark-like, features. Doubled-rows of jagged teeth looked uncomfortable to brush, but he somehow managed the task with brisk efficiency. Combing his hands through his short, blue-grey hair, he looked up and met her gaze with a polite nod. She turned away with a blush, feeling intrusive, but he was as courteous the next time he spoke to her as before.

It took them five days to cross the lands between Mukuro’s fortress and the border, which changed from year to year as Yomi’s armies sporadically clashed with Mukuro’s. The engagements were small but bloody, yet diplomatically ignored as both kings continually tested the other for any weakness along their disputed line. There was nothing to mark the border as such, no guard towers or outposts, as it was too costly to keep building what one enemy or the other would just destroy.

Few demons lived in the bloody plains and forests, which stretched across flat land broken by odd mesas of stark brown rock rising like square buildings here and there. The sky stretched from one horizon to the other, continually wracked by restless lightning from swollen purple clouds that would burst into hard rain for a few minutes and then stop as suddenly as they came. The humid heat was stifling, and Sango was grateful when they finally wandered into the forests, which at least were cooler than the open grasslands.

It was on the fifth day, near sunset, and they were close enough to the border that the guards were alert and wary, searching with both physical senses---sight, sound, scent---and astral---a build-up of jyaki, a ripple in the energy fields---for the ambush they all half-expected. Five S-class demons and two hanyou making straight for the border was not something Yomi’s carefully trained troops would miss. They had felt eyes on them, but Kurama had reassured Kirin that there was nothing to worry about. Yomi would not attack, because he was expecting the fox. Sango’s head had come up that, her drawn up hood slipping back a few inches, and she would have asked how that was possible, but just at that moment, they were attacked.

But not by the ones they expected, but by one of the clans semi-loyal to Mukuro who made the borderlands their home. They were a rough crew, and strong---they had to be, to make their home here---and their leader was the last person Sango had ever thought to see again.

Her heart froze in her mouth as he thudded to the ground right in the middle of them, his men emerging from the surrounding trees with shouts and snarls as their four-legged brothers howled and yipped in the excitement. Rolling their lips back to show their sharp teeth and glistening jaws, they growled menacingly.

Hands on his hips, the pack leader stood with a triumphant smirk as Kirin and his men reacted by pulling their weapons. The black-haired leader was not fazed in the least by the ominous aura the S-class demons exuded.

“Ha! You might as well give up. We have you completely surrounded.” The wolf youkai’s fangs flashed as his light blue eyes glittered.

“Kouga?” she whispered in disbelief. Sango would have stood there paralyzed in shock if Kurama hadn’t grabbed her up under one arm. His thorn whip swung in a spiraling arc, clearing the area of snapping wolves as his mighty leap backwards landed them both in the nearest tree able to hold their weight. Taken by surprise, Sango could only sag against him. She tried to push her hood up, which had slipped down over her eyes and chin in the force of the kitsune’s leap.

“Kurama---” she said, and then paused, hand to her hood.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” the fox distractedly murmured, his eyes narrowed on the circling wolves as Kirin growled at the black-haired leader.

The words were hauntingly familiar---she had heard them often enough between a certain dog demon and the miko he loved. Two people she knew were alive, and yet could never see, for her promise to Shigure prevented her from ever letting them know. And the price, as terrible as it had seemed at the time, was even more so now. For not only had she lost the one thing that had sustained her all those lonely years, but she abruptly realized she had made that horrible promise for a reason that had never truly existed. For Naraku and Kohaku had been dead even before the surgeon had agreed to do the heart transplant.

And now, the very pointlessness of all her pain and heartache, bitterness and agony and stubborn determination was suddenly standing down there in the clearing wearing the same cocky smirk he’d always worn. Kouga of the Wolf Demon Tribe, still the same and yet now a symbol for everything she had lost and sacrificed. And more than that, a symbol of what she could never have---her friends, her family, everything she had striven for these last five hundred years, and all completely in vain.

Her honor, cold companion as it was, was all she had left. She could not sacrifice that, too.

Kirin must have revealed who he was, for Kouga called to his men. “Hey, you mutts, leave off! They’re allies, damn it. Though I almost got you, Commander. Thought I was going to get the chance to kick some so-called civilized Gandaeran ass, Commander!”

Gods, his brash boasts hurt. They were so achingly familiar.

“Kurama.” Her whisper was hoarse, she could not keep the pain from roughening it, and hated herself for the betrayal even as the tears started gathering in her eyes. “Kurama, I need to leave. I need to get out of here. Now.”

“Sango?” Kurama’s arm tightened around her, but she looked away, trying to hide her face from both him and Kouga below.

“Kurama, please.” She felt him stiffen at the word she used to seldom, and wanted to laugh and cringe at the neediness of it even as the tears started spilling down her cheeks. “I-I can’t stay here. Kouga---he knows me. He can’t see me. My promise, Kurama, I promised---”

Whatever it was about her urgent plea that made the fox react, Sango could only be grateful that he did. Dissolving his Rose Whip, the kitsune gathered her up like he had before, at the fortress. Holding her tight in his arms, he paused only to stare down at the commander, perhaps telling him telepathically that they were leaving and going on ahead alone.

“Hey!” Kouga demanded from below. “Where are you going?”

A sob broke from her pressed lips, and Sango buried her head into the fox’s shoulder as she hung on. Kurama leapt free without a backwards glance, and they soon left the demons behind with the ashes of her broken heart.


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