CH 1-10

Summary

Haisley, after hearing about a new dating game, joins it. Only the dating game isn’t what she thinks. Slowly, she’s pulled into a darkness, and finds out, that most of the women, will die. Her only way to survive now? Play the game, do the dares, and hope that one of the monsters hiding in the dark, claims her. Please note: This book is horror/erotic. There are themes of abuse, torture, murder, rape, demonic possession, fighting each other to survive. It’s essentially a game of taking out your opponents or be taken out by the devil.

1 The Game

Haisley

I sit frozen, staring at the screen as I enter my information. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m even doing this, dating feels like a dead end these days. Yet, there’s something about this game. Everyone’s been talking about it, whispering its name like a secret too dark to say aloud. I don’t know where it came from, who’s behind it, or how it really works.

The Devil’s Dare Date.

The name itself feels like a warning, not an invitation. It doesn’t sound like a dating game, but curiosity pulls me in deeper. Now, here I am, typing out every intimate detail of my life like an offering to something unseen.

Today’s the last day to enter. Valentine’s Day. It’s almost mocking to us single people sitting at home alone, with a tub of ice cream.

The questions are invasive and unsettling. They don’t just ask about the surface, they dig deep. My weight, height, number of sexual partners, then it goes darker, asking about acts I’ve done, things I’ve only ever whispered. It doesn’t stop there. It probes into my family, my career, my secrets. The more I type, the more it feels like this game is taking pieces of me, pulling apart every layer.

Still, the hype says this is just a game, a twisted, dangerous one, maybe, but a game nonetheless that is meant to help you find a partner who is like you.

With a shaky breath, I hit Submit.

The screen goes black instantly. My heart skips a beat as white lines flicker across the darkness, dancing like static. I lean closer, squinting. There are words hidden in the static, something whispered just out of reach, but before I can make them out, they vanish.

Then, slowly, the screen comes back to life. Letters appear, one by one, as though someone is typing them just for me.

Welcome to The Devil’s Dare.

You have been accepted. As per the terms and conditions, there is no way back now. Not until the end.

My chest tightens as I read the words, dread creeping in.

Here are the rules of the game:

All Dares Must Be Completed: Every dare must be carried out without question. Failure results in consequences determined by the Game Master.

No Backing Out: Once accepted, you are locked in. The game only ends when it’s time and a winner is found.

Secrecy Is Mandatory: You cannot speak about the true nature of the game. Breaking this rule will lead to severe penalties.

Partnership Challenges: You will be paired with different partners throughout the game. Trust is key. Betraying your partner will come with dire consequences.

Truth or Dare Rounds: Choose “Truth,” and you must answer honestly. Lies are punished. Choose “Dare,” and you must complete the task, no matter how extreme.

No Contact With the Outside World: During certain phases of the game, you will be completely cut off. There is no escape.

Physical and Emotional Limits Will Be Tested: The game is designed to push you beyond your limits, both mentally and physically. You must endure whatever is thrown at you.

The Game Master’s Word Is Final: The Game Master controls all. Every decision is final and beyond challenge.

No Refusal of a Mate: If a match is made, you must comply. Refusal will result in immediate punishment or removal, with unknown consequences.

Completion Reward: If you make it to the end, a reward awaits. What it is remains a mystery, but the stakes are far higher than they seem.

I can feel my heartbeat thudding in my ears as I read each rule, the reality sinking in with every word. This isn’t just a game. There’s something darker here, something that twists the concept of “dating” into something else entirely. A sinister current hums beneath the surface, unseen but undeniably there.

And now, I’m a part of it, and there’s no way out, not anymore. I’m in, whether I want to be or not.

There’s no information about when this begins, no hints about who the guys are, or even what kind of dating this really is. Nothing at all. Maybe it’s more of a blind date type thing? I mean, I’m fine with that… right?

The screen stays eerily still, no further instructions, no countdown, nothing. I sit back, staring at the glow of my laptop, a nagging feeling twisting in the pit of my stomach. Hours pass. The room grows darker as the sun dips below the horizon, leaving only the pale blue light from my screen to bathe the walls in a ghostly hue. The house feels too quiet, the silence suffocating.

I glance at the clock. It’s late, but sleep feels like a distant thought. My mind is still tangled in this strange game, unsure of what I’ve just agreed to.

And then, just as my eyelids start to feel heavy, the screen flickers.

A message.

Now.

The word pulses once, twice, then dissolves, leaving behind another set of instructions.

You must now disconnect from the entire world. Post on all social platforms that you are taking time out and will be unreachable. Ensure no one will attempt to contact you.

My pulse quickens.

I stare at the words, feeling the weight of their demand sink in. A faint hum begins in the back of my mind, a warning, maybe, but my fingers move on their own. I open my social media accounts, each one blurring into the next, and type out the same message:

“Taking some time off. Don’t reach out. I need space.”

It feels final. Permanent. The kind of thing people post when they want to disappear for real.

One by one, the notifications roll in, people asking if I’m okay, concerned friends wanting to reach out. I bite my lip and fight the urge to respond, my hands trembling slightly. My phone lights up with messages, but I turn it off, just like the screen demands.

Next: The screen shifts again.

Disconnect from all internet sources, turn off everything except your laptop. No contact. Just wait.

My heart stutters. Disconnect everything? Just wait? For what?

I hesitate, but the pull of the game is relentless, a silent force pushing me to comply. I unplug the router, feeling my connection to the outside world snap. The silence that follows is deafening. No phone, no internet. Just me, alone in my house, with the darkness pressing in from all sides.

I look back at the laptop, half-expecting more instructions. But the screen remains still and empty. How? There’s going to be no way to get notifications now without internet.

I swallow hard and sit there in the eerie quiet, waiting for… something. Anything. My thoughts spiral. What have I gotten myself into? The Devil’s Dare Date, it doesn’t feel like a dating game anymore. This feels like something much more dangerous.

I shift in my seat, eyes darting to the windows. The world outside seems still, but somehow I can’t shake the feeling that something, or someone, is watching.

Grabbing my jacket, I decide to take a walk. Fresh air should help settle my nerves, right? I’m going crazy. It’s just a dating game, that’s all it is. How could they promote a dangerous game so widely? They can’t. It’s ridiculous.

I walk to the door and reach for the handle, pulling it down. But nothing happens. Frowning, I turn the key, expecting the familiar click of the lock disengaging. Still nothing. The panic starts to rise in my chest as I yank on the door harder, pulling with all my strength. It doesn’t budge.

Moving to the windows, I try to prise them open, but they, too, are locked, sealed tight as if they were never meant to open. My hands tremble, panic now clawing at the back of my mind. How? None of these locks were engaged before. How is this even possible?

I stumble back, breathing heavily, confusion and fear twisting into one suffocating knot in my chest. This doesn’t make any sense. The door was unlocked. The windows were unlocked. So why in the hell can’t I get out?

A soft beep breaks the silence.

I whirl around, my eyes snapping to the laptop screen. It’s glowing again, a new message slowly typing itself across the screen:

No leaving is allowed. Wait until the next instructions are sent. There is no way out.

My stomach drops. How am I getting messages? I’m not connected to the internet.

No way out? I stare at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. How can there be no way out? I turned the key. I tried the handle. Everything is locked down tight, like the room itself is holding me prisoner.

Panic claws at me. The instinct to run is overwhelming, my body screaming to fight, to smash the window, to do anything to escape. But it’s just a game, right? Just a stupid, twisted game.

How can they see me?

I glance around the room, paranoia gripping me. Is there a camera? Are they watching through my laptop? How do they know I tried to leave?

I stand frozen, eyes darting around my apartment, every shadow suddenly sinister, every noise too loud. I feel like I’m being watched, like there’s something lurking just out of sight, waiting for me to break the rules.

The door remains locked, my thoughts racing as I pace the room, trying to shake the growing dread that clings to me. Hours stretch out like an eternity, the silence is suffocating. My mind keeps returning to the game, how it knows I tried to leave, how it has me trapped here. I can’t stop thinking about that message: No way out.

Suddenly, a new beep slices through the quiet, and I turn toward the laptop. The screen is alive again, and this time, another message appears, cold and impersonal.

Watch the video. Now.

A link flashes underneath the text. My fingers hover over the trackpad, trembling as I hesitate. Every instinct screams not to click it, but the screen seems to pulse, drawing me in, like it’s already made the choice for me.

I click. I don’t expect anything to happen, I’m not connected to the internet.

The video player opens, and for a second, nothing happens. Then, like a storm, a rush of chaotic images and words fills the screen, blurry, distorted, constantly shifting. Faces I don’t recognize flicker by in rapid succession, their mouths open in silent screams, while symbols and words flash too quickly for me to read. A slow, steady ticking sound echoes in the background, growing louder, more insistent.

In the middle of the chaos, a pendant appears, swinging back and forth in time with the ticking. It swings hypnotically, its movement slow but impossibly mesmerizing. I try to look away, but my eyes are glued to it, following its path, feeling it tug at something deep inside my mind.

Then, just when I think the video can’t get any worse, the screen flickers again. From the shifting images, a figure starts to take shape, some sort of creature with glowing red eyes and dark, twisted horns, its body shrouded in blackness. The creature leans closer to the screen, its eyes burning into mine. It’s not just a video anymore. It’s watching me.

I want to scream, to get up and run, but my body won’t respond. My limbs are heavy, unmovable. Panic rises as I realize I can’t even blink. My mind races, screaming for my body to move, but I’m trapped, just an observer, helpless, and powerless. I’m no longer in control.

The creature’s face fills the screen now, the shadows twisting around it like smoke. My vision blurs as the pendant continues to swing, lulling me into a dizzying haze. I feel myself slipping, my thoughts dulling, my consciousness fading away.

And then…darkness.

Everything goes black, and I feel myself falling, tumbling into an endless void. The last thing I see are those burning red eyes, searing themselves into my mind as I lose myself completely.

2 Caught

Haisley

The darkness slowly lifts, but as I begin to wake, a deafening sound cuts through my foggy consciousness, a scream. It’s not just one voice, but a cacophony of terrified wails, echoing all around me. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, adrenaline surging, but my body…my body won’t move.

I try to lift my arms, to stand up, but I’m locked in place. Panic floods my veins as I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision. The scream echoes again, louder now, closer. My mind scrambles to understand, but when I look down, I realize why I can’t move. My wrists, my ankles, they’re bound, strapped tight to a cold, wooden chair. I jerk against the restraints, but it’s useless. They won’t budge.

The room around me is dim, the air thick and cold. And as I try to focus, I realize I’m surrounded, not by walls, but by mirrors. Endless, towering mirrors that reflect my terrified face back at me from every angle. The distorted reflections make the space feel endless, like I’m trapped in some hellish maze.

The screaming continues, but now it’s all around me, coming from behind the mirrors. I can’t see anyone, but I can hear them. I’m not alone. There are others.

“Help! Please!” I shout, my voice cracking with desperation. “Someone, help me!”

The screaming behind the mirrors stops abruptly, and a voice that hoarse and broken responds from the shadows beyond the glass.

“Don’t say the words,” the voice warns, trembling with fear. “Whatever you do… don’t say them!”

My breath catches in my throat. The words? What words? My mind spins in confusion, but before I can ask, another voice hisses from a different direction.

“If you say them, it’ll come for you. It’ll take you!”

A chill races down my spine, dread blooming in my chest. I struggle harder against the restraints, my breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. But then, from the corner of my eye, I see something etched into one of the mirrors. A message, scrawled in dark, jagged writing.

“Through the glass, the gate is torn. Speak these words, and you’ll be reborn.”

My stomach drops as I stare at the words, fear tightening around my throat like a noose. It feels… wrong. Sinister. I don’t know what’s waiting on the other side of the glass, but I can feel its presence, lurking just beyond the mirrors.

“I’m not saying them!” I scream back at the unseen voices. “I’m not saying anything!”

Silence stretches out for a moment, thick and heavy, until the mirror directly in front of me begins to change. From the top, a small stream of water trickles down the surface, impossibly slow at first. But then, more comes, cascading down, pooling at my feet. My breath hitches as the water level rises—inch by inch, cold and biting.

Suddenly, a countdown appears, bright red numbers glowing on the mirror.

Five minutes.

Panic seizes me as I struggle violently against the ropes, my eyes darting around, looking for a way out, for anything. But the mirrors only reflect my horror back at me. The water is rising faster now, lapping at my ankles, climbing my legs. Cold and wet. Inescapable.

“Please! The water! It’s coming in!” I scream, my voice raw, my throat burning. “I’m going to drown!”

The voices beyond the mirrors remain quiet now, too quiet, as if they’re waiting. Waiting for me to make a choice. I can feel the cold water creeping higher, soaking my clothes, my body trembling in the icy grip of fear.

Three minutes.

I look back at the mirror, at the words etched into the glass:

“Through the glass, the gate is torn. Speak these words, and you’ll be reborn.”

My heart races. The water’s at my waist now, rising faster and faster. I gasp, pulling at the ropes with all my strength, but it’s useless. My body feels heavy, sinking under the growing weight of fear and water.

Two minutes.

I’m screaming now, pleading, but no one answers. The only sound is the slow, relentless rise of the water and the ticking countdown that feels like a death sentence.

Say it, a small, terrifying voice whispers in the back of my mind. Say the words or die.

“No!” I choke, tears streaming down my face, the water already reaching my chest. “I won’t do it!”

One minute.

The water rises past my shoulders. I tilt my head back, gasping for air, my heart hammering so hard I think it might burst. I can feel the water closing in, my breaths becoming shallow and frantic.

Thirty seconds.

I look into the mirror, the cold reflection of my terrified eyes staring back at me. The words are right there. Right in front of me. All I have to do is speak them. But what will happen if I do? What will come for me?

Twenty seconds.

The water’s rising over my shoulders. I’m running out of time. My whole body trembles with fear. I can’t hold my breath forever.

Ten seconds.

The choice is clear: Say the words or drown. With shaking lips, I look into the mirror, water moving up over my chin as I whisper, barely audible:

“Through the glass, the gate is torn…”

The reflection in the mirror begins to ripple, the glass warping as something stirs behind it. The room grows colder, darker, as if the very air is being sucked away. My voice falters as I say the final words, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Speak these words, and you’ll be reborn.”

The moment the final word leaves my lips, the air in the room shifts, growing impossibly colder. I stare into the mirror, my reflection rippling, distorting, as if the glass itself is breathing, warping under an unseen pressure.

The water rises over my mouth now, frigid and suffocating, but I barely notice anymore. My eyes are locked on the mirror. Something is moving within it, something dark, something waiting.

Suddenly, the ripples still, and from the depths of the reflection,it appears.

The demon.

Its massive form unfurls within the glass like a shadow rising from the abyss. Its skin is as black as the void, twisted and malformed, tendrils of darkness clinging to it like smoke. But its eyes… those eyes are what hold me captive, two burning, crimson orbs that cut through the dim light, piercing straight into my soul.

I can’t move. I can’t breathe. The room disappears, the rising water forgotten, as my entire being is consumed by the demon’s gaze. It doesn’t blink, doesn’t move, just watches, its presence suffocating, as if the very space between us is thick with malevolent intent.

My pulse pounds in my ears, but my body remains paralyzed. The air seems to vibrate around me, heavy with dread and power, as though the entire world is bending under the weight of this creature.

Is it real? My mind races, scrambling for any explanation. A hallucination? A nightmare? I want to believe it’s just the game, that this is some kind of twisted illusion, but the way the air crackles, the way my skin crawls under its gaze, it feels too real.

A low, guttural sound rumbles from the demon, like a growl vibrating deep within the glass, reverberating through my chest. I feel it in my bones, in the pit of my stomach. And then, as though it senses my fear, its mouth curls into a slow, wicked smile.

The screaming behind the mirrors begins again, louder this time, filled with panic and terror. But now, it’s not just the others. It’s coming from within the mirrors. The demon watches, its smile growing wider, almost amused.

I try to speak, to call out, but my throat tightens, the words trapped, frozen with fear. I want to scream. I want to run. But I’m held in place, a prisoner to the thing staring back at me. My heart races wildly, my mind filled with the overwhelming need to escape, but there is no escape.

Suddenly, the demon moves. Its clawed hand presses against the glass, slowly and deliberately. The surface of the mirror shimmers and bends under its touch, warping like liquid, as if the barrier between us is dissolving.

“No…” I whisper, the word barely audible, lost in the cacophony of screams. Water slips into my mouth and I slam my mouth closed.

The demon’s eyes burn brighter, glowing with an unnatural fire as it leans closer, its mouth opening to speak. The sound that follows is low, a growling whisper that seems to come from everywhere at once.

“You called me… Now you are mine.”

The water around me surges suddenly, rising past my eyes, creeping up to my forehead. It’s freezing, biting at my skin, but all I can do is watch as the demon’s form pushes against the glass, its clawed hand pressing harder, almost breaking through.

I feel it now. The panic. The reality sinking in that I can’t stop this. That there’s no escape from whatever I’ve unleashed. I start thrashing in the chair, pulling desperately against the ropes, but it’s too late. The demon is coming, and I’m drowning.

The water rises. I tilt my head back, trying to breath through my nose to get air, but it’s no use. The countdown on the mirror flickers, but it doesn’t matter. Time is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is the demon’s red eyes, fixed on me with an unwavering hunger.

The water slips past my head now now, rising up over my body, and I hold my breath, panic clawing at my throat. In the last moment before the water consumes me completely, I see the demon lean closer, its burning gaze the last thing I’ll ever see.

And then… nothing.

Darkness swallows me whole, the icy grip of the water pulling me under. The last thing I feel is the demon’s eyes, watching from beyond the glass, as everything fades to black.

3 A Gift

Haisley

I wake to the suffocating chill wrapping around me like a vice. My skin prickles, a cold sweat clinging to me, and I don’t dare open my eyes. Something’s wrong, terribly wrong. The low hum of whispered voices creeps into my awareness, an unsettling chorus of fear.

I force my eyes open.

The room is massive and oppressive, its walls nothing more than rough brick and cement, looming like the walls of a prison. Every small movement I make echoes, bouncing off the cold, unforgiving surfaces. The air itself feels thick, heavy with dread.

My gaze shifts to the others, women, huddled together in the corner, their faces streaked with tears and terror. They’re shaking, but it’s not just the cold that’s making their bodies tremble. My stomach tightens in a knot, unease clawing at my insides.

Then I see it.

A trail of blood, smeared across the floor, leading out of the room… but there’s no door. The sight sends a cold rush of nausea through me, twisting my gut into knots.

“What’s your name?” A woman’s voice breaks through the suffocating silence. She’s staring at me with wide, hollow eyes.

“Haisley,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper, throat tight with fear. “Do we know what this is yet?”

“No…” she says, her voice trembling. “We’ve just been told to sit and wait for instructions.”

My gaze darts back to the trail of blood. How can they be calm? There’s blood. Something happened. She sees me staring, her expression hardening.

“A woman… she…she couldn’t take it,” the woman explains, her voice cracking. “She was screaming, desperate to find a way out. We were all warned to sit and wait, or face the consequences. She didn’t listen.”

“What… happened?” I force myself to ask, my voice thin and brittle. I already know it’s something horrific.

The woman swallows hard, her eyes darkening. “A demon. Or… or something like one. It appeared, right in front of her. She screamed that it was the thing from the mirror… the one she saw after the chant. It… it grabbed her.”

My blood runs cold.

“And then?” My voice is barely a whisper now.

“We—” her voice trembles. “We looked away, we couldn’t watch. There was maybe fifteen minutes of her screaming, begging for help, grunting. But when I glanced back… her body, it wasn’t human anymore. Twisted, mangled, like something tore her apart. It dragged what was left of her out.”

I swallow the bile rising in my throat, glancing back at the blood trail. “Dragged her… out? Out where? There’s no door.”

The woman’s eyes flicker with terror. “It makes one. A portal, or something. When it comes for you, it opens and makes a way out.”

Another woman speaks, her voice low and trembling. “This isn’t a game. It’s something… something twisted, something demonic. We’re not getting out of this, not alive.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. The cold seeps deeper into my bones, my heart pounding in my chest, a deep, gnawing dread consuming me. This isn’t a game, it’s a nightmare. And there’s no waking up.

Suddenly, the screens flicker to life, bathing the room in an eerie, flickering light. Words appear, slowly, but there’s something off about them, twisted and sinister. Names. Are they names? I squint, my breath catching as I realize they’re paired with something far darker.

---

Zyraxial – Samantha, Haisley, Laurie, Blaze, Sasha

Malgorath – Anna, Rose, Bella, Luna, Cassandra

Ashurith – Claire, Juliet, Megan, Susan, Louise

Belzharon – Willow, Eva, Rachel, Alexa, Sophia

Xarnathor – Michelle, Trixie, Nicola, Brenda, Gina

Vraxul – Paola, Deb, Annalise, Dahlia, Greta

Tzalyx – Cora, Julia, Paula, Ava, Star

Vorathiel – Maya, Fleur, Emily, Daisy, Lisa

Sargoroth – Brea, Olivia, Irene, Skye, Lucy

Kaelgrym – Kelly, Ashleigh, June, Vivien, Zoe

---

I stare at the list. Ten demons. Fifty women.

But my mind stalls on one horrifying fact, there are only nine of us here. My stomach twists as I scan the room, the women huddled in the corner, all wide-eyed and trembling, just like me. Where are the other 41?

Then my eyes fall on the name “Cassandra.” A thick red line cuts through it, slashed across the screen like a death mark.

No… 40. A shiver crawls down my spine. What does this all mean?

Before I can begin to comprehend, the screen changes again, new text appearing in bold, unforgiving letters.

---

You belong to your demon, but that doesn’t mean you are safe. Each demon will only claim one woman. The others will die.

You must fight to be chosen. If you fail, you die. If you refuse… you die.

---

My heart slams against my chest, the words burning into my mind. It feels like a trap snapping shut around us. There’s no escape, and no mercy.

The room falls into a suffocating silence as we all stare at the message, our minds trying to process the horror of it all. The air feels heavy and thick with fear, as if the demons themselves are already circling, watching from the shadows, waiting to make their claim.

I can hear the faint sounds of breathing, of stifled sobs. One woman mutters a prayer under her breath.

But the screens offer no comfort. No answers. Only a chilling reminder.

We are not safe. We are not guaranteed survival. We must fight.

And then, just as quickly as they came, the screens flicker off, leaving us trapped in the dark with nothing but the knowledge of the brutal choice before us:

Fight to be claimed… or die.

“Based on our names,” one of the women whispers, her voice shaky. “We each belong to a different demon, so maybe we’re split into five teams? One team wins?”

“We’re a person down, Megan,” someone snaps from the shadows, her voice sharp with panic.

“I know that, but it doesn’t mean we can’t win, does it?” Megan argues, her words a mix of desperation and forced logic. “If we couldn’t win, surely they would have killed us all already, Deb?”

But they’ve got it wrong. I can feel it deep in my bones, an understanding creeping in that chills me to the core. It’s not a team effort. It never was.

“It’s not a team win,” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the oppressive silence. All eyes turn to me. “We’re in teams to keep us separated, to keep us apart from those we’re really fighting against. But we don’t win as a team. Cassandra is already dead, and if us nine survive… then someone from Cassandra’s group and another team will win. Only one.”

A sob breaks through the tension, the sound raw and broken. “I’m going to die…” the voice trembles, full of hopelessness, and I want to comfort them, to say that it’s not true. But I can’t. The words die on my tongue. I can’t lie to them. Not now.

Because this isn’t a game, it’s real, and someone has already died. Maybe more. My mind flashes back to that moment in the glass room, the water rising, the desperation choking me. If I hadn’t said those words, I would have drowned. And Zyraxial, or whatever demon I summoned, had been watching, waiting for me to speak.

How many others didn’t make it? How many drowned in those rooms? My head throbs, the horror of it all sinking in, pressing down on me like a weight I can’t shake. I’ve no idea how we’re supposed to survive this. We aren’t fighting against other people. We’re up against demons, and nothing we do can win this on our own terms. This isn’t a battle we know how to fight.

“I don’t know much about demons,” I say, my voice trembling, “but I do know one thing… just because we can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see us. They’re watching. They’re always watching.”

Silence settles over the room like a shroud, the weight of my words sinking into the others. The fear is palpable now, seeping into the very air we breathe. We’re trapped in something dark, something far beyond our control, and every instinct screams that we’re not getting out of this alive.

Not unless the demons want us to.

Hours crawl by, the oppressive silence broken only by our shallow, anxious breaths. We sit in that cold, desolate room, lost in our own thoughts, until something shifts in the corner.

A tear forms in the air, a distortion of reality. Before any of us can react, a dark hand, black as night with streaks of red pulsing beneath its skin, reaches through the void. It moves deliberately, placing a box on the floor with a hollow thud. The hand retracts just as suddenly, vanishing back into the darkness from which it came, leaving us with only the box and our fear.

No one wants to move. No one even wants to breathe. We all just sit there, eyes locked between each other and the box, our fear paralyzing us.

“I’ll go,” Megan finally whispers, her voice shaky but determined. She stands, each step slow and tentative as she approaches the box. Her hand trembles as she picks it up, glancing around nervously before bringing it back.

She stops in front of me, holding it out.

I stare at her, confused. “I don’t want it.”

Her eyes meet mine, wide with something close to panic. “It’s got your name on it.”

My stomach drops. Shit. My name. Why me?

Reluctantly, I take the box, my hands trembling as I fumble with the latch. The others watch with bated breath as I pull it open, the lid creaking like a coffin. Inside, my confusion only deepens.

A bottle of water. A plate of food.

I tear the box open completely, and the group’s eyes widen, reflecting the same disbelief I feel. Food? Water?

“Anyone hungry or thirsty?” I whisper, holding the plate out, half-expecting this to be some cruel trick. The silence stretches as we all stare at each other, uncertain. But before anyone can answer, the screen flashes on again, casting its harsh glow over the room.

We freeze. Shit. My heart pounds in my chest. What if I’ve just triggered something by opening the box without permission? What if this is it,my punishment?

The message on the screen appears in jagged letters, cold and unfeeling.

Gifts can only be used by those to whom they are given. Sharing is against the rules. Your demon gifts you, not your team.

A chill slithers down my spine. I can’t share? I glance at the others, the weight of the situation settling like a stone in my chest. I hate this. I can’t eat and drink while they go without. It feels wrong.

“I don’t want it,” I say loudly, pushing the box away from me, my voice shaking with defiance. “If I can’t share, I don’t want it.”

The screen flashes again. My heart stops as Megan reads the new message aloud, her voice trembling.

“Not accepting and using a gift is seen as disrespecting your demon. Punishments will be given. Selfishness is the key to winning this game. Not sharing.”

Shit. The weight of it hits me like a punch to the gut. Selfishness. That’s the real game here. They’re twisting us, forcing us to betray every instinct of humanity, making us into something ugly. Something cruel.

I pick up the water, my hand shaking as I unscrew the cap and take a hesitant sip. I glance at the others, my chest tightening with guilt.

“Why me?” I whisper to no one in particular. “Why not everyone?”

But there’s no answer. Only the cold, suffocating silence, and the reality that we’re playing a game that’s designed to destroy us, slowly, cruelly, one twisted rule at a time.

4 Truth

Haisley

I’ve eaten the food and drank the water, but instead of relief, it only made me feel sicker, as if my body is rejecting every part of this twisted reality. A few more gifts have arrived, though not for everyone. No one else has been given food or water, which makes the knot in my stomach tighten further.

Megan got a dress, a strange, flowing thing that shimmered unnaturally under the harsh light. She had no choice but to change into it. Star was handed a key, cold and ancient-looking, but to what? No one knows. Deb received a small pocket watch. Its hands tick away, but whether it keeps the correct time is anyone’s guess. Olivia, Ashleigh, Daisy, Eva, and Gina, so far, they haven’t received anything.

Hours pass, according to Deb’s pocket watch. Some of us drift in and out of restless sleep, but the tension in the room remains thick, unyielding. Every breath we take is filled with dread, every moment a waiting game for the next horror. I hoped the gifts might offer some clue about what’s coming, some pattern, but they’re as random and cryptic as everything else in this nightmare.

Then, the screens flicker to life again, bright and jarring.

Stay in place.

The words are like a command, reverberating in the room. Suddenly, the wall to our left distorts, warping as if reality itself is bending. A creature, blackened and monstrous, steps through, its movements unnervingly fluid. It doesn’t look at us. Instead, it places a single chair in front of the shifting wall, then slips away, disappearing back into whatever dark dimension it came from.

We all exchange uneasy glances, our fear mirrored in each other’s faces. What the hell is this?

More words flash on the screen, glowing and cold.

Olivia, sit on the chair.

Panic ripples through us. Olivia’s face goes pale, her hands trembling as she instinctively shakes her head, backing away. Then, a countdown begins, one minute.

“Do it!” I shout, desperation seeping into my voice. “The only way to survive is to do what it asks! Anything it asks, you have to do!” My eyes lock onto hers, pleading. We’ve seen enough to know there’s no choice in this twisted game.

Olivia’s entire body shakes as she forces herself forward, each step agonizingly slow. She sits on the chair, right in front of the portal, its edges swirling with darkness.

“I—I see another woman,” she whispers, her voice trembling with fear. We all lean forward instinctively, wanting to see, but a red line has appeared on the ground between us and the portal, a clear warning to stay back. Crossing it feels like tempting death.

The portal opens wider, swallowing the chair. Olivia remains visible, but only her back is facing us now, her form slowly fading into the eerie glow of the portal.

“I’m in a circle with four others,” she cries out, her voice shaking, filled with terror.

The screen flashes again.

Truth – The game you play will determine if you survive. You will each be asked a question. You must answer truthfully to stay alive. Want to win faster? Lie. If no one notices, you’re safe. If someone catches your lie, you die.

My stomach twists violently. Lie to win faster? Who the hell would risk that? Surely telling the truth is the safest option, right?

Before we can process it, the screen flickers once more.

Dark – Your truth won’t be easy to share. It will be your deepest, darkest secret, the one you swore never to repeat. Good luck.

The words hang in the air like a curse. My mind reels, spinning with terror at the thought. What will my question be? I don’t want to think about it. I can’t.

I glance back at Olivia. She’s trembling, her voice barely audible now. I can hear the low hum of conversation coming from within the portal, but it’s muffled, indistinct. I can’t make out what’s happening to her, but I know this is far from over.

I try to imagine what secret they’ll drag out of me, what truth I’ll be forced to spill. My heart races, pounding in my chest, but there’s nothing I can do. All I know is, there’s no winning this. Not really.

We’re all just waiting to be broken.

Olivia returns to us, but she’s not the same. Her eyes are hollow, her body trembling as she wraps her arms around her legs, rocking back and forth like she’s trying to keep herself from falling apart. I want to comfort her, to reach out and hug her, but before I can move, the screens flash again.

And there, glowing in harsh, unforgiving letters, is my name.

Shit.

I told her she had to face it, and now it’s my turn. My legs feel like lead as I force myself to stand. My body is screaming at me to stop, to run, but there’s nowhere to go. With every step toward the chair, it feels like the ground is falling away beneath me. I sit down, and before I can react, cold metal clamps snap around my wrists and ankles, locking me in place.

The portal around me swirls, the air distorting, growing thick with an unnatural energy. My breath comes in shallow gasps as the swirling stops, revealing four other women sitting in a twisted circle.

These have to be the women I’m up against. The ones under Zyraxial, like me.

Suddenly, he appears. The demon. The one I saw in the mirrors, in the cursed depths of my laptop screen. His form is massive, shadowy, with burning red eyes that seem to bore straight into my soul. His gaze flickers between us before locking onto one woman.

“Samantha,” the demon rasps, its voice low and grinding, like bones being dragged across stone. “Two years ago, you did something out of selfishness. What was it?”

The air in the room thickens with tension, every pair of eyes turning to Samantha. Tears well up in her eyes, her entire body trembles as her head begins to shake, silently refusing. But it doesn’t matter. The ticking begins, an ominous countdown, and the demon waits.

“Please!” she begs, but the demon doesn’t flinch. It only watches, waiting for her confession, as the countdown ticks away.

Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.

“I left my baby on the doorstep of a stranger!” she finally screams, her words crashing out of her like a dam breaking. My stomach drops, and I can’t believe what I’ve just heard. Left her baby? To a stranger?

I want to ask her questions. Is the baby okay? Where is it now? But there’s no time for that. The demon’s eyes narrow, and a screen flickers to life, showing the moment, Samantha, carrying a crying infant, placing it on a stranger’s doorstep before walking away.

“Watch,” the demon demands, its voice thick with malice. Samantha’s head snaps up, her sobs growing louder as the other screens turn on and begin to play back her darkest moment. It’s not just forcing her to confess, it’s replaying the worst moment of her life. This isn’t a game, this is torture.

And then, those burning eyes turn to me.

“Haisley,” the demon growls, its gaze locking onto me like a predator cornering its prey. “At the age of eight, what happened, and what did you do?”

No. No.

My eyes widen, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to explode. I glance around, desperate for an escape, but there is none. The ticking begins again, and I fight back the rising tide of tears. This is fucking twisted.

“I—” The words die in my throat, choking me. The demon steps forward, and I see the timer hit five seconds.

“I watched my father murder my mother and never spoke of it,” I blurt out, my voice cracking as the confession rips itself from my soul. My head drops in shame, the memory tearing through me.

Screams fill the air, her screams. My mother’s. And there it is, playing out on the screen. The memory I’ve spent my whole life trying to bury, now laid bare for all to see.

Fear had silenced me as a child, and by the time I was ready to speak, it was too late. He was already dead, and it haunts me to this day. Tears blur my vision as I wish I could wipe them away, forcing myself to stay focused, knowing that this is far from over.

Laurie is next, confessing how she accidentally poisoned her sister when she was only four. She barely remembers the event, but the screen doesn’t care. It shows the moment in agonizing detail.

Sasha, living under a stolen identity for years, committing fraud. Another life unraveled before our eyes.

And then, it’s Blaze’s turn. But she doesn’t move. The question hangs in the air, but Blaze remains silent, staring ahead with wide, glassy eyes. She isn’t shaking her head. She isn’t pleading. She’s frozen.

Fear? Shock? I can’t tell, but every second that ticks away is dragging us deeper into this nightmare.

The demon’s anger grows, the countdown slipping closer to zero. The air becomes charged, the room darkening. I feel the presence of something, multiple somethings. Three large, shadowy figures crawl up behind Blaze, but she still doesn’t move.

Then, with the final second, the chair vanishes beneath her, and the creatures pounce.

Blaze screams, thrashing as they drag her to the floor. My stomach turns in horror as her clothes are ripped from her body. She fights, her voice ripping through the air, but the demons are relentless, holding her down. And then one of them mounts her and thrusts into her.

I snap my head away, unable to watch, bile rising in my throat. Her screams fill the air, the sound of flesh being torn, the grunts and growls of the creatures as they violate her. And then, sudden, deafening silence.

I force myself to look, and what I see freezes my blood. Blaze’s body lies in pieces, torn apart, discarded like meat. She hadn’t just died. She had been violated, desecrated in the worst possible way.

Now I understand Olivia’s silence. This is the punishment for defiance.

The portal shifts, and my restraints release. My body is weak, shaking uncontrollably as I try to stand. The images of Blaze and my mother’s murder twist together in my mind, a sickening blur of death and destruction.

I step over the line, barely able to hold myself together as I look at the other women.

“Don’t refuse,” I manage to whisper, my voice shaking. “Whatever you do don’t refuse, your secret isn’t worth the punishment. It’s not worth the slow death for staying silent.”

My legs give out beneath me, and I collapse to the floor, trembling uncontrollably. Whether from shock, fear, or something else, I no longer know. All I know is that the demons are watching. And they aren’t done with us yet.

5 Sickening

Haisley POV

With each woman who sat in that chair, I knew they would return changed, broken in some way. But Deb and Eva never came back. The silence they left behind is suffocating, a constant reminder that they refused… and paid the price.

The rest of us? We’re too afraid to speak of what happened in that cursed portal. Too afraid to acknowledge the horror we witnessed, the way the truth clawed its way out of us and left us shattered. I’m okay with dying. But the rest? The slow, torturous unraveling? I can’t face that.

It’s been hours since I got out of that chair, but my body won’t stop trembling. No matter how much time passes, I can’t shake the cold dread that’s settled in my bones. Everyone else seems to be recovering, at least enough to keep their hands steady. But not me. The shaking won’t stop, like I’m caught in an endless cycle of fear and despair, and I can’t figure out how to break free.

The others have huddled around me, their presence a weak attempt at comfort. But it’s useless. Nothing they do can calm the terror coursing through me. I’m lost in my own mind, unable to make sense of anything anymore.

My eyes flick to the screen.

Each team of five under their demon has lost someone. Some have lost two. The message is clear: many couldn’t bring themselves to confess their darkest secrets. They chose death over the shame and torment of speaking those unspeakable truths.

I wonder, for those teams where two have died, how did the second one fall? Did they hesitate? Did they try to flee, or was their refusal a quiet surrender to fate?

After seeing Blaze… after witnessing the horrific violation that followed her silence, I know I could never refuse again. The thought of dying isn’t what terrifies me, it’s how I’ll die. What will happen to me if I refuse to play their twisted game?

No. I’ll obey. I have no choice. Whatever they ask, whatever they demand, I’ll do it. Because if I don’t… the horrors waiting for me on the other side are worse than anything I could ever imagine.

And the worst part? I can’t even hope for an end. Not while the demons are still watching, waiting for us to crack, to fail.

We’re trapped in this hell, and it feels like it’s only just begun.

We drift in and out of restless sleep for hours, but there’s no real peace. Only the darkness pressing in, suffocating us with the weight of our unspoken fears. The room is thick with dread, each of us knowing it’s not over. We all sense it, something more is coming. But none of us want to face it.

Then, the screens flashes to life, pulling us from whatever fragile moments of rest we managed to steal. We don’t want to read it. We don’t want to acknowledge that this nightmare is still unfolding.

Move to your name on the floor.

The words make my blood run cold. We glance around the room, confused, until slowly, our names appear, etched into the concrete like some twisted brand from hell. We exchange one last look, a fleeting moment of silent understanding, before each of us walks to the spot where our name waits.

My legs feel like they’re made of lead, every step heavier than the last. Is this it? Is this the moment we die?

The screen flashes again.

You do not leave the area where your name is. Each demon has one hour to visit their women. Who they visit, when, and for how long is their choice.

A cold sweat breaks out across my skin. God, no. This can’t be real. It’s like a sick joke, but deep down I know it’s not.

The rules appear, one by one, burning into my mind like a branding iron:

1: You do not need to do anything your demon says. But pleasing them will benefit you.

2: This time is yours to gain what you need to survive the game. Your demon can give you gifts throughout, so make an impression.

3: If you move away from your name, you will be punished.

4: Your demon will not touch you without permission.

5: Not everyone will be visited. If you’re not, you’ve failed to impress your demon.

The words sink in, twisting in my gut like a knife. This is sick. Beyond twisted.

I sink to the floor, curling into myself, my body still trembling uncontrollably. I try to calm the shaking, try to catch my breath, but it’s useless. I’m praying and hoping, that my demon, Zyraxiel, won’t come for me. I don’t want to see him, don’t want to face that monstrous thing again.

But the reality is worse than anything I could’ve imagined. Some of us want our demons to come. To impress them, to survive. And in that desperate need, we’re all slowly losing what little humanity we have left.

I sit there, silent, waiting in the suffocating darkness, knowing that whether or not my demon comes, there’s no escape from this hell. Only the next twisted game, and the next.

Suddenly, there’s a shift in the air, a cold, unnatural energy that prickles at my skin. My breath catches in my throat as I watch the portal open. Without thinking, I scoot back, my spine hitting the cold wall behind me. A demon steps out, dark and towering, its form dripping with malice, and it moves toward Megan.

I glance at the screen, seeing her name under Ashurith. That’s her demon.

Another one follows, this time heading toward Daisy. Then another to Ashleigh. My heart pounds, but for a brief moment, I let out a small, shaky breath of relief. Mine isn’t coming. I’m safe.

But the relief is short-lived. The portal swirls again, and there it is, Zyraxiel. His eyes lock onto me, cold and merciless. My stomach lurches, and I feel the familiar wave of terror wash over me. I want to crawl away, disappear into the shadows, but the fear of punishment for moving, for breaking the rules, keeps me rooted to the spot.

He steps closer, each movement slow and deliberate, his dark form looming over me. I shake, harder than before, my body betraying the fear I can’t control. My eyes dart around, desperate for anything to ground me. That’s when I see Megan. She’s smiling, her voice soft, speaking to her demon like it’s a normal person, like this situation is anything but horrifying.

How? How can she fake being calm? My mind reels with disbelief, so fixated on her that I don’t even notice Zyraxiel until he’s sitting directly in front of me, his red eyes boring into mine.

I freeze.

His presence is overwhelming, suffocating. My heart races as his hand moves, and instinctively, I flinch. But instead of violence, a portal opens beside him, and he reaches inside. The next second, he’s pulling out a blanket. I blink in confusion as he drapes it over my trembling body, the thick fabric wrapping around me like a shroud.

The action is so jarring, so wrong for the nightmare we’re trapped in. This creature, this thing, just stood there and watched Blaze be tortured and murdered, like it was nothing more than entertainment.

I feel nothing but hatred, nothing but fear. And yet, when Zyraxiel’s hand brushes against my cheek, something inside me stirs. My instinct betrays me, and I lean into his touch.

The warmth.

It’s the first real warmth I’ve felt since this began, a stark contrast to the bone-deep cold that has gripped me from the start. My body craves it, needing the heat, the comfort. Against my will, I inch closer to his hand, seeking the warmth that I shouldn’t want.

I hate him. I should hate him. But the warmth… it’s the only thing that feels real in this twisted, freezing hell. And for just a moment, I let myself sink into it, hating every second of how desperately I need it.

Zyraxiel kneels before me, towering, a nightmarish figure pulled straight from the depths of my darkest fears. His skin is black and bracked, like coal, veins pulsing with an eerie red light that seems to glow just beneath the surface, as if his entire being is fueled by something dark and sinister. His chest, broad and powerful, bears twisted, sinewy lines, glowing faintly with the same hellish red that pulses in his eyes.

Those eyes… They lock onto mine, burning like embers, unblinking and cold. There’s a terrifying intelligence behind them, something ancient and cruel. It’s like staring into the abyss and feeling it stare back, a gaze that strips you down, sees everything, every hidden secret, every sin. His horns, curling grotesquely from his head, are almost regal in their horror, dark and jagged, a twisted crown on a demon king.

His face is brutal, sharp lines and hardened edges, lips twisted into something that could almost be a smirk, though there’s nothing remotely human about it. His presence alone radiates power, thick and suffocating, like the room itself bends under his will.

But it’s his body, his muscular, impossibly strong frame, that feels the most disturbing. Every movement he makes is deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey, his muscles shifting beneath that dark, cracked skin. And the worst part? His hand, massive and clawed, moves slowly towards me with a bizarre gentleness, completely at odds with the horrors I’ve witnessed. The warmth of his touch lingers, unsettling in its contrast to everything else about him.

Zyraxiel is more than just a demon. He’s a monster. And yet, the worst part is how a small part of me, buried beneath all the terror, feels drawn to him, an instinct I can’t control, a need for the warmth he offers, even though I know it’s a lie, a trap.

I hate him. I fear him. And still, I can’t look away.

“Come closer, for heat,” Zyraxiel whispers, his voice dark and low, cutting through the silence like a blade. But I stay pressed against the wall, every instinct in my body screaming to stay as far away from him as possible.

Before I can resist, his hands, impossibly large and strong, reach forward, gripping the tops of my arms. His touch is like fire, pulling me closer, dragging me toward him without effort. I’m not even touching him, yet the heat radiating from his body begins to seep into me, melting the icy cold that has gripped me since this nightmare began.

How? I don’t know how this is possible. Nothing about him makes sense, he’s a demon, something out of the darkest corners of hell, yet his warmth wraps around me like a blanket.

I glance around quickly, my heart pounding, and I see it, none of the other demons are this massive, this terrifying. Why do I have him? The biggest and most terrifying one? My body trembles with both fear and exhaustion, but the warmth… it makes me want to inch closer. My mind is screaming to resist, to fight, but my body is desperate for relief, for the comfort he offers.

He reaches out again, and a swirling portal opens before him. For a brief second, a thought flashes through my mind. What if I jumped through? Would I escape? Or would it take me somewhere worse, somewhere I can never come back from?

Before I can dwell on it, his hand reappears, holding a plate of food. He offers it to me, and I stare at it for a moment, torn. I’m starving, I would be lying if I said otherwise. My body aches for sustenance, and though my mind screams at me to reject it, I reach out, taking the plate from his hand. I start eating, small bites, my hands shaking so badly I can barely hold the food.

All around me, the others are talking, but I can’t join in. Words are impossible. My teeth chatter violently, my entire body trembling from a fear I can’t shake.

Suddenly, the plate slips from my trembling hands, but before it can crash to the floor, Zyraxiel moves. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his massive, heated embrace. The warmth floods my body instantly, and I almost stop shaking immediately.

I hate myself for it, but I lean into him, pressing closer to the heat, desperate for the warmth and comfort. For the first time since this began, my body feels normal. I glance around and notice the other demons leaving after only a few minutes. Their portals linger, and the other women watch eagerly, hoping their demons will return. But Zyraxiel doesn’t move. He stays with me, his warmth seeping into my bones like a drug I didn’t know I needed.

He moves again, his arm stretching out as another portal opens. This time, he pulls out a mirror, its surface glinting under the dim light. He places it in my hands, and I stare at it, confused.

“When you need something, look into this mirror,” Zyraxiel says quietly, his voice a whisper against my ear. “Ask, and I will hear you.”

I stare at the mirror, my mind reeling, and before I can respond, he pulls back. He wraps the blanket tighter around me, almost tenderly, before disappearing into the swirling portal. A second later, the portal vanishes, and with it, his presence.

Around me, the other women start to cry, realizing the time is up. Some of the demons never came. Their disappointment is palpable, their tears falling fast as they understand what that means.

But I sit in stunned silence, trying to process what just happened. Zyraxiel stayed with me. He never left. Samantha, Laurie, and Sasha, they weren’t visited. And somehow, that feels even more terrifying than anything that’s happened so far.

6 Fire

Haisley

The others look at me with wide eyes, their expressions a mix of awe and confusion as we shuffle closer together now that our names have disappeared from the floor. I keep the thick blanket wrapped tightly around me, its warmth still lingering, though it feels wrong, like a lingering mark of Zyraxiel’s presence.

“How did you do that?” Olivia whispers, her voice soft but urgent.

“Do what?” I ask, genuinely confused. I’ve done nothing extraordinary, nothing at all.

“Get his attention for the entire time,” she says, the disbelief in her voice clear.

I shrug, feeling the weight of their stares on me. “I don’t know,” I whisper, shaking my head. “I’m no different from you. I hesitated during the Truth game, it got down to five seconds before I spoke, so it’s not for behaving.” I can’t explain why Zyraxiel stayed with me the whole time, why he didn’t move on to the others. There’s no logic to it, no sense. Why would a demon like him focus on me?

I glance over at Megan, her demon seemed much more manageable than mine. “Do you have any ideas? You seemed comfortable with your little friend,” I ask, my voice hushed, trying to make sense of this.

Megan smirks, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “He is little compared to yours,” she says, and I groan in response.

“Yeah, well, I got the biggest and scariest one,” I mutter, feeling the weight of Zyraxiel’s earlier presence pressing on me still.

“That you did,” Megan replies with a shake of her head. “Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve spoken if yours was mine. He looks terrifying.” She pauses for a moment, her expression shifting. “All I can think of is… maybe it’s because I smiled at mine during the Truth game. I was hoping it would make him let me off without playing. Didn’t work though, he still made me confess.” She shrugs lightly, like she’s trying to downplay how unsettling the experience truly was.

The others are shifting restlessly, their anxiety palpable. They all seem to be waiting for something, anything, that might explain why some demons came and others didn’t.

“Maybe there’ll be another chance,” I whisper, trying to inject some hope into the tense atmosphere. “Another chance to get them to notice you.” Although I don’t really know why we’re all so desperate for their attention. These demons aren’t saviors, they’re our captors. Yet, deep down, we know the horrifying truth.

If they don’t notice us, if they don’t claim us, we die. We don’t have a choice, not really. Dying isn’t an option, even if it might seem like a way out. It’s not a choice we get to make. Our only option is to play their game and make one of these demons claim us, no matter how terrifying that thought may be.

I clutch the blanket tighter around me, unsure if it’s really the warmth or the fear of what’s coming next that’s making me shiver.

“Your demon is giving you gifts, ones that actually help. I got a dress,” Megan mutters, looking down at the fabric like it’s some kind of cruel joke.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t gotten anything,” Olivia grumbles, her voice tight with frustration.

“I could really use food. Or even water,” Megan groans, her hunger evident. I glance down at the water and food that I have, but the rules are clear, if I share, I’ll be punished. The thought of that sends a shiver down my spine.

I clutch the mirror Zyraxiel gave me, an idea forming. Maybe I can ask for help. Maybe I can get him to bring food and water for the others. It’s a long shot, but it’s better than watching them suffer. I lift the mirror, staring into it, hoping, praying, that it works. At first, nothing happens, and the women start to look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Then it begins to darken and Zyraxiel appears.

I swallow hard, trying to figure out how to phrase this. “Can the others get some food or water?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “A lot of them are too weak to move… please?” I’m not sure if he’ll listen or if this will even work, but I have to try.

“Are you talking to yourself?” Megan chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

I hold the mirror up for her to see. “Look,” I say, but she just shrugs, unimpressed.

“That’s me?” She chuckles.

I turn the mirror back toward me, and there he is, Zyraxiel. He’s watching me, his red eyes burning through the darkness. She can’t see him, but I can.

Megan chuckles again, but I ignore her, keeping my eyes locked on the mirror. “If not,” I add, my voice trembling, “I’ll give them mine and take the punishment, even if it means dying.”

The mirror goes blank.

“Well?” Olivia asks, her eyes filled with hope.

I bite my lip. “I think… that’s a no.” I hesitate, glancing at them. “But if you don’t get anything soon, I’ll share what I have.” I’m terrified of what will happen if I do, but I can’t just watch them waste away.

The room grows colder, and suddenly, the air distorts. My heart pounds in my chest as I see a figure step through the shadows. Zyraxiel. Oh God, I didn’t actually share anything yet! Panic builds in my throat, but then I see what he’s holding, a box. He places it down in front of the others, his glowing red eyes locking onto me.

“You owe me,” he growls, his voice rumbling like thunder, before disappearing into the darkness once again.

Megan laughs, her relief evident. “Oh my god, can we switch demons?”

The others eagerly grab the food and water from the box, their desperation clear. I turn back to my own portion and finally begin to eat, the tension easing just slightly.

“For now, I think I’ll stick to my own demon, thanks,” I laugh weakly, my nerves still shot. Megan just grins, nodding.

At least for now, Zyraxiel is providing for me, keeping me alive. But why? Why are the others being left to starve? Don’t the demons want them to survive? Don’t they need at least one of us to make it through this? How can they, without food or water?

Olivia watches me carefully, her expression thoughtful. “What do you think you’ll have to give him in return?” she asks, her voice soft.

I pause, the food turning tasteless in my mouth. “I don’t know,” I admit, the weight of the question settling over me like a shadow. I hadn’t even considered what Zyraxiel might want in return for his generosity.

After eating, we drift to sleep.

The night drags on, a thick silence falling over the room as we huddle close together, finally able to rest with full stomachs. I think night, but it could be day now. Exhaustion weighs heavily on all of us, our bodies and minds worn down by the constant fear, the twisted games, and the looming presence of our demons. Despite everything, my eyes grow heavy, and before I know it, I drift off into a restless sleep, clutching the blanket and mirror Zyraxiel gave me as if it’s my last shred of comfort.

But the peace doesn’t last long.

I wake with a start, my heart pounding in my chest, the blanket clinging to me like a shroud. The smell hits me first, thick, acrid smoke burning in my nostrils. I sit up, panic rising in my throat as I realize the room is no longer cold and dark. It’s burning.

The others… they’re gone. My heart lurches in my chest as I scramble to my feet, my head whipping around wildly. I’m not in the room we fell asleep in anymore. I’m alone, surrounded by walls of fire. The flames are everywhere, creeping closer, licking at the air, threatening to consume everything.

“Olivia?” I call out, my voice trembling, but there’s no answer. “Megan? Anyone?”

The heat is unbearable, the fire roaring louder and louder, as if it’s alive, hungering for me. I spin around, looking for a way out, but there’s nothing, just fire in every direction. My breath catches in my throat, panic clawing at my chest. Where am I? How did this happen? I was just sleeping, safe with the others.

My eyes sting from the smoke, and I cough, struggling to breathe. There’s no escape, no way out, and the flames keep closing in, inching toward me like predators toying with their prey. The heat is suffocating, sweat pouring down my face as I stumble backward, feeling the walls pressing in.

And then I hear it, a low, guttural growl that rumbles through the air, cutting through the roar of the flames. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat as I spin toward the sound.

A figure moves in the flames, dark and shadowy, towering over me. It steps closer, and the fire seems to part around it, like it commands the very flames. My throat tightens as I recognize the shape. Zyraxiel.

But something is wrong. He’s different this time, more monstrous, his red eyes glowing even brighter, his form larger, more terrifying than before. His horns curl wickedly, and the lines of fire that crisscross his skin glow with a fierce, unnatural intensity.

He steps through the fire as if it’s nothing, and my body trembles uncontrollably. Why is he here? What does he want now?

I try to back away, but the flames behind me press closer, hemming me in, leaving me nowhere to run. My back is against the wall, literally, and I have no escape.

“Where are the others?” I demand, though my voice is weak, barely audible over the roaring inferno. I can barely think, the heat is so intense, the fire so overwhelming. “What is this?”

Zyraxiel’s lips curl into a twisted grin. “The others? They face their own trials. As you will face yours.”

My blood runs cold. Trials? Is this another game? Another twisted test? I feel the fear creeping into my bones again, stronger this time, more urgent. What kind of trial is this? I want to scream, to beg for mercy, but I know better. Zyraxiel is not a creature of mercy.

The fire closes in, scorching the edges of my skin, and I flinch as the heat bites into me. I can barely breathe, the smoke thickening around me like a suffocating blanket. Zyraxiel steps even closer, his towering form filling my vision, and I feel my knees weaken, trembling under the weight of his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” I choke out, my voice breaking.

His red eyes burn into mine, unreadable, his face a mask of malevolent intent. “To survive, you must give something,” he growls, his voice rumbling like the fire itself. “A piece of your soul, your pain, a part of your body.”

My heart races. A piece of my soul? My pain, body? The words echo in my mind, twisting and dark. What does that even mean? How can I choose between those?

The flames are so close now, licking at my skin, and I cry out, feeling the burn searing into me. I’m trapped. I’m going to die.

“Choose, Haisley,” Zyraxiel commands, his voice like thunder. “What will you offer? Your soul, your suffering, or part of your body?”

I stare up at him, my mind racing, the heat blistering my skin, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I don’t know what to do, don’t know how to survive this. But one thing is clear, I have no choice. I have to give him something, or the fire will consume me whole.

“I…” My voice cracks, barely a whisper, the flames licking at my skin, their heat unbearable, searing my flesh. My gaze flickers between the roaring fire and Zyraxiel, his towering form casting a shadow over me, and the weight of his command presses down like a vice around my throat.

The choice he’s given me… it’s impossible. How can I give away part of my soul? And yet, how can I endure more pain? But if I refuse, if I hesitate too long, the fire will consume me, and I know I don’t want to die, not like this.

Zyraxiel points down to the floor, and for the first time, I notice it. A list. It wasn’t there before, but now, it’s carved into the ground, glowing faintly beneath the smoke and ash. My heart pounds as I read the options, each one worse than the last. Soul. Heart. Happiness. Moments. Eye. Finger… The choices blur before me, but with every passing second, another option is scratched out, fading away, leaving only the most horrifying sacrifices.

I can’t do something simple. Not when it will put the others in pain. My thoughts race, and the flames press closer, the heat unbearable, scorching the air around me.

“Haisley,” Zyraxiel growls, his voice deep and dark, urging me to choose. The flames are creeping nearer, closing in. I step toward him, my body trembling, knowing that no matter what I pick, this will haunt me forever.

“My soul,” I whisper, barely audible, my heart pounding in my chest. It’s all I have left, and yet, after everything, I wonder if it even belongs to me anymore. Maybe it’s already the devil’s, maybe it’s been his since the moment I entered this hellish game. I’m pretty sure part of my soul went to the devil when my father murdered my mother.

Zyraxiel goes still, his towering presence somehow even more imposing in the silence that follows. The fire, once ravenous and ready to devour me, vanishes in an instant, snuffed out as though it never existed. The suffocating heat is replaced by an eerie cold that seeps into my bones. His red eyes, glowing like embers, lock onto mine, piercing through me.

He steps closer, and I can feel the weight of his gaze, the pressure of his will pressing against my very soul.

7 Her Attraction

Zyraxiel POV

I first saw her when the game began. Another fragile human thrust into this pit of torment, like the restfearful, trembling, eyes wide with dread. But she was different. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I could sense something dark simmering beneath the surface. Not the kind of darkness born from this hellish game, but a deeper one, one that came from her life before she ever entered these walls.

Haisley.

I didn’t choose her at first. No, the humans think they’re randomly assigned, but that’s not how it works. We choose. And I chose her because there was something about her that called to me, something far more twisted and compelling than mere survival instinct. It was as though she’d been living in her own personal hell long before she ever came here. The way her eyes hollowed with the weight of unspoken secrets, the way her shoulders sagged as if she carried the weight of a world she never asked for.

There was a darkness in her soul, perhaps the same darkness that I, a demon, thrive on. But this wasn’t a corrupted darkness like the others. It wasn’t born from cruelty or greed. No, it was something different, something pure in its pain. It was as if life had bled her dry, leaving only the shadow of a woman who once held light within her.

And that darkness? It fascinated me.

I became obsessed. I knew I wanted her, but not in the way demons claim their prizes. Not through winning, through surviving this twisted game. No, I wanted her to want me too. I didn’t want to claim her simply because she won, but because she chose me, because she saw that same darkness within herself and understood that it belonged to me now.

That’s why I’ve been giving her gifts. The blanket to soothe her shivering, the food to nourish her weakening body, the mirror to remind her that I’m always watching, always waiting. But it wasn’t just about helping her survive the game. I wanted her to feel my presence, to sense that I wasn’t just another demon among many. I wanted her to know that I see her, truly see her, and that I understand the shadows lurking inside her better than anyone else ever could. I wanted her to feel cared for. In my own way.

I’ve been patient, waiting for the right moment, watching as she navigates the trials. Watching as she battles the other women, the lies, the truths, and her own demons. And each time, she grows closer to the edge, further into the dark, inching closer to me.

But now… now she stands before me, surrounded by fire, trapped in her trial. And I’m shocked by her choice. Of all the sacrifices she could make, she offers me her soul. The worst option. The most irreversible. And she does it without hesitation.

“Haisley,” I growl, stepping closer to her, the flames vanishing as I command them to disappear. “Why would you choose your soul? The others… they sacrifice their pain, their pride, but your soul?”

She stares at me, her face unreadable for a moment, before she speaks, her voice low, filled with an emptiness that shakes me. “I don’t believe I have a soul anymore,” she says, each word like a dagger twisting into me. “And if I do it’s not worth anything in the afterlife. I’ve darkened already, Zyraxiel. My soul is likely the devil’s anyway.”

Her words send a ripple of something through me, something like anger, but not quite. I feel the weight of what she’s saying, the finality in her voice, the way she’s resigned herself to the darkness inside her.

“I don’t believe that,” I snarl, my voice rougher than I intended. Her eyes widen, but I press on. “You think you’re beyond redemption? You think you’re already lost, Haisley? You’re not. Not yet.”

She shakes her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “What’s left of me, Zyraxiel? What’s left to save? I’ve been living in hell long before I came here. What’s a soul worth when there’s nothing left of it but shadows?”

I step even closer, until I’m looming over her, my red eyes burning into hers. “I don’t want your soul because it’s lost, Haisley. I want it because it’s yours. You still have it, even if you think it’s in pieces.”

She flinches slightly, but holds my gaze. I can see the war going on inside her, the battle between what she’s willing to admit and what she’s convinced herself of.

“I gave you gifts not because I wanted you to survive, but because I wanted you to choose to live. To choose me. To see that you are not the broken thing you believe yourself to be.”

Her lips tremble, and I sense the cracks in her armor. She’s struggling to keep herself closed off, to stay detached, but I can feel it, the shift inside her. I move even closer, brushing my hand against her cheek, just like before, feeling her lean into the warmth again.

“I don’t want to take your soul, Haisley,” I whisper, my voice a low growl. “I want you to give it to me. Not out of desperation. Not because you think it’s already damned. But because you know it’s the only thing you have left that’s still yours.”

Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. She’s strong, stronger than she knows. But there’s a softness to her, too. A fragility beneath the pain. And it’s that fragility, that humanity, that I want. Not as a prize, but as something precious.

Her voice trembles when she finally speaks. “What difference does it make? Whether I have a soul or not, I’m already…”

“You’re not lost,” I say firmly, cutting her off. “Not yet. Not if you choose to stay.”

For the first time, I see something flicker in her eyes, something like hope, or maybe curiosity. And I know, in that moment, that this game isn’t about winning or losing anymore. It’s about her choosing me, just as I’ve chosen her.

Haisley is darkness. But in that darkness, there’s still a flicker of light. And I’ll be damned if I let it go.

Haisley’s trembling lips part as she stares at me, her eyes brimming with questions she’s too afraid to ask. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the weight of everything pressing down on her fragile shoulders.

“What happens to the winners?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper, a flicker of fear and curiosity dancing in her gaze.

I study her for a long moment, choosing my words carefully. “The winners,” I begin, my voice low and steady, “are claimed by their demon.”

Her brows knit together in confusion, and I know she’s imagining some twisted reward, maybe freedom, maybe riches, something tangible. But this game isn’t about those things.

“They live with us,” I continue, watching her reaction closely. “Forever. They become ours, bound to us in the shadows and darkness. It’s not a return to the real world. Winning here isn’t about escaping back to the life you once had. It’s about gaining an eternity, a twisted gift, an eternity to live, but not in the light.”

Haisley’s eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat as my words sink in. “Forever?” she echoes, her voice shaky. “With you… in the darkness?”

I nod slowly, taking a step closer. “Yes. It’s not just a matter of surviving this game. It’s about what happens after. Winning doesn’t mean a few more years in the world you know. It means an eternity with me.” My eyes lock onto hers. “It means you become mine.”

She swallows hard, her lips quivering as the weight of my words hangs between us. “How… how do I give you my soul?” she asks, her voice laced with uncertainty. “How do I choose to?”

I take a breath, feeling the power in this moment, knowing she’s standing at the edge of a decision she barely understands. “You give me your soul when you accept that you belong to me,” I explain, my voice like a whisper carried on the wind. “It’s not just about surrendering to the darkness, Haisley. It’s about choosing it. Choosing me. You’ll know you’re ready when you understand that I am the only thing left to claim you. That you want to be mine, not just because you have no other choice, but because it’s the only truth that makes sense.”

Her eyes flicker with a mixture of fear and something else, something far more dangerous. There’s a curiosity in her gaze now, a dark understanding creeping in. She’s teetering on the edge, but she’s not ready to fall. Not yet.

I can see her struggle, the conflict brewing inside her. But I won’t take her soul. Not yet. I want it to be willingly given, not wrestled from her in a moment of desperation.

“I won’t take your soul,” I say softly, stepping closer still, my hand brushing her cheek once again. She leans into it, her body betraying her mind, seeking the comfort of my warmth. “I want you to give it to me willingly. I want you to choose to be mine.”

Her lips tremble, her breath shallow as she gazes up at me. “But if not my soul, then what? What will you take from me?”

I lean in, my voice low and intimate. “I will take your darkest memory. The one that haunts you. The one that defines the shadows in your soul. I’ll take that pain from you, Haisley. And when you’re ready, when you’re willing to give me your soul in exchange, I will trade it back. Your memory for your soul.”

Her eyes widen at my words, the offer hanging in the air like a poisoned promise. The memory that has shaped her, the one she clings to, her pain, it’s what keeps her locked in this world of torment. And I’m offering her a way out. A way to rid herself of the very thing that defines her.

“Your memory,” I repeat, my voice soft but commanding, “for your soul. I will not take it until you are ready. Until you want to be mine.”

She stares at me, her mind racing, her body tense with indecision. But I know she’s close. I can feel it. The shadows in her soul are calling to me, and soon, very soon, she’ll be ready to give me the one thing that truly matters, her soul. But not yet.

I pull back slightly, watching her carefully. “When you’re ready, Haisley, I’ll be waiting. You’ll know where to find me.”

8 Dark Creature

Haisley POV

Zyraxiel holds out his hand, his eyes burning into mine. “I need to take you back,” he says, his voice low, almost gentle. I peer at him, hesitant.

“What about taking what I promised?” I ask. After everything, shouldn’t he take it now?

“That will come later,” he replies, his tone measured. “In another game. For now, you keep it. Don’t speak of the ending with the others. No one should know what transpired.” His voice drops into a near-whisper, and I nod. I don’t fully understand, but I know better than to question him.

Reaching forward, I place my hand in his. The instant my fingers touch his, he pulls me against his solid frame, and then the world shifts. The room around us swirls, distorting and bending like the air itself is unraveling. I squeeze my eyes shut as dizziness sweeps over me.

When the sensation stops, I slowly open my eyes. I’m back in the room with the others. The familiar cold air hits me like a slap, the harsh reality of the game once again wrapping itself around me. Zyraxiel smiles faintly, a strange look in his eyes, before he releases me. Without another word, he disappears back into the portal, vanishing as if he was never there.

“Finally!” Megan rushes over and pulls me into a tight hug. “I thought you refused and… burned to death or something!”

“No,” I mutter, my voice a little hollow. “There are less painful ways to die than burning alive.”

Her grip loosens as she looks at me, concern clouding her features. Olivia peers over, curious and suspicious. “Why did Zyraxiel come back with you? Why was he still with you? We were alone during our game.”

I blink, confused. “Your demons didn’t go with you?” I whisper.

“No,” Olivia answers. “How could they? We all played the same game, had the same test at the same time. But you… you took longer. What happened?”

“What did you give up?” Gina leans in, her eyes wide with anticipation.

I hesitate, unsure of how to explain it. Finally, I whisper, “My soul.” The words feel heavier than I expected, like they carry a weight I still don’t fully understand.

Their eyes widen, shock rippling through the group. “Your soul?” Megan breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe you gave that up. That’s… that’s everything. How could you do it?”

“I saw the choices,” I explain, trying to keep my voice steady. “Only a certain number of people could choose each option. I didn’t want someone else to have to give up their soul. So I chose it.”

Megan shakes her head, disbelief written all over her face. “How painful will it be to lose your soul?”

“I… I hadn’t thought about that,” I admit, my mind spinning. The reality of it is starting to sink in. “From what I remember, there was an announcement that we’ll have whatever we gave up… removed in the next game. But I don’t know what happens when you lose your soul.”

Olivia’s voice cuts in, quieter now, almost afraid. “So… you’re not going to find out?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Zyraxiel… he refused to take it. He told me that he would take my darkest memory instead. And when I’m ready to give him my soul freely, we’ll trade. My memory for my soul.” I still don’t fully understand what that means, why he made such an offer, but the words feel surreal even as I speak them.

Gina chuckles, though there’s no real humor in it. “Why did you get the nice demon?”

“Nice?” Olivia scoffs, her voice filled with disbelief. “Have you seen that monstrosity?”

I don’t know why I feel the need to defend him, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “Hey, he’s not a monstrosity.” My voice is firmer than I expect, and I find myself surprised by my own reaction.

Olivia raises an eyebrow, her expression incredulous. “Are you serious? That thing looks like it crawled out of hell.”

“Maybe,” I admit, “but he’s not like the others. He… he’s different.” The words feel strange on my tongue, but there’s something about Zyraxiel, something beneath the monstrous exterior, that I can’t shake. He sees me in a way that no one else does, like he knows every dark corner of my soul, and doesn’t recoil from it.

For a moment, no one says anything, the weight of my confession settling between us. I don’t know if they understand, or if they even want to, but the truth is there, hanging in the air. Zyraxiel didn’t take my soul because he wants me to give it to him. And somehow, in the depths of this nightmare, that choice feels more terrifying than anything else.

We sit together again, the silence between us heavy and thick. “Does anyone know when it’s happening?” I whisper, my voice barely cutting through the stillness.

“No,” Olivia mutters, shaking her head. The room falls into silence once more, each of us lost in our own thoughts. One by one, I watch as they drift off to sleep, but sleep doesn’t come for me. Something gnaws at me, keeping me wide awake. It’s a restless feeling, an itch under my skin. And then, there it is, the pull. The urge to see him, Zyraxiel.

Quietly, I reach for the mirror, my fingers trembling slightly as I lift it to my face. I peer into the dark surface, waiting, my breathing shallow. After a few tense moments, his image flickers to life. Zyraxiel. He doesn’t speak, and neither do I. I just watch him, studying every sharp line, every glowing ember in his eyes.

I should be terrified. His presence should send me into a spiral of panic. But somehow, seeing him calms me. It’s twisted, I know. But the fear that usually claws at me fades in his gaze, replaced by something I can’t quite understand. I keep watching him, and eventually, the weight of exhaustion pulls me under. I fall asleep with my eyes on him.

I wake suddenly to the sound of loud scratching, a harsh, grating noise that makes my heart slam against my chest. My body jolts upright, the adrenaline hitting hard. The others are startled awake too, and we huddle together, our breaths quick and shallow.

In the corner of the room, something is moving.

My blood runs cold as I focus on the dark shape shifting in the shadows. The scratching continues, louder now, like claws scraping against stone. The air feels thicker, darker, and the room itself seems to warp under the weight of whatever is creeping toward us.

None of us know what to do. Panic surges through me like ice in my veins as the creature crawls closer. It’s nothing like the demons, there’s something far more twisted, more unnatural about it. My heart pounds in my chest as I clutch the mirror in my trembling hands, desperate for Zyraxiel to appear. But I’m terrified to look away from the creature for too long.

What if it jumps at me? My mind races with the thought. If I don’t see it coming, then what? I keep my back pressed against the cold wall, my breath shallow as I flick my gaze between the mirror and the creature, my hands shaking more with every second. The mirror begins to darken, and I instantly start rambling.

“Is this thing supposed to be here with us?” I cry out, my voice shaking. My eyes dart toward the others, my panic spilling over. “It’s making that scratching noise, and it’s getting closer!”

The sound, the harsh, grating scrape of its limbs against the floor, sends chills down my spine. Slowly, I move closer to the other women, my body trembling with fear. The creature moves like smoke, a dark, twisting mass that blurs and shifts, as though it’s barely held together. But beneath the smoke, I can make out its form, barely.

Its eyes…cold, empty pits of blackness, pierce through us, unblinking. Its body is a sickly grey, with limbs that are grotesquely twisted, bent in unnatural angles. It looks like something pulled from a nightmare, a creature that shouldn’t exist. It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve seen so far, and none of us dares to move or speak.

Suddenly, it lunges forward.

Screams erupt around me, and I watch in horror as the creature claws at Olivia’s leg, its jagged fingers digging deep into her flesh. Blood splatters across the floor as Olivia shrieks, stumbling backward, but the thing won’t let go.

The other women run, their screams echoing off the walls as they scramble away in terror. But I can’t leave. I’m frozen, my heart pounding in my chest, my gaze locked on Olivia as she writhes in pain. I rush forward, my hands trembling as I try to pull her free, grabbing at the creature’s twisted limbs, desperately trying to pry it off her.

It turns on me.

The moment its claws scrape against my skin, a searing pain rips through me, and I’m hit with a vision so vivid it feels like I’ve been thrown back in time. I see my father standing over my mother, the knife in his hand glinting in the dim light as he stabs her again and again. Her screams fill my ears, her blood pooling beneath her, and I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I’m trapped in that moment, reliving the nightmare I’ve buried for so long.

The creature’s bite sinks into my arm, and another wave of pain crashes over me. Another vision, my mother’s lifeless eyes staring up at me, her body cold, her blood staining my hands. I scream, but the sound is drowned out by the horror clawing at my mind.

I keep fighting, my body trembling as I try to pull the creature off, but every time it touches me, another vision, another memory of that horrible night floods my mind. I’m losing myself in the pain and in the memories.

Suddenly, a deafening roar shakes the room.

I fall to the floor, my vision swimming as I lose my grip on Olivia. I can’t see anything, there’s darkness all around me, but I know. I know Zyraxiel is here. His presence fills the room, heavy and oppressive, and I hear the sound of fighting, the clash of something monstrous against something far more powerful.

A loud screech pierces the air, the sound sharp enough to make me wince, and then, silence.

Slowly, I force myself to look up, my vision blurred from pain and exhaustion. The creature lies lifeless on the floor, its twisted body crumpled in a heap of grey flesh and smoke. And then, I see him, Zyraxiel, his towering form standing over the dead creature, his red eyes glowing with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

He turns toward me, his eyes softening as he walks over and scoops me into his arms. I feel the warmth of him seeping into my skin, a stark contrast to the cold terror that’s been gripping me for so long. He looks down at me, his gaze shifting to the wounds on my arms where the creature had bitten and clawed at me.

“Why didn’t you call for me sooner?” he growls, his voice low but filled with concern as he examines the gashes on my skin.

I can barely speak, my body trembling from the pain and the memories that still linger. But in that moment, all I can feel is relief. Zyraxiel saved me, again.

I give in, and let the darkness consume me, needing to rest.

9 Sacrifice

Haisley

When I wake, I feel warmth enveloping me, something solid and comforting wrapped around me. For a moment, the confusion is overwhelming, and then I peer up to see Zyraxiel looking down at me. His red eyes are intense but not cold, almost watchful. My heart races, but not with fear.

I glance down at my legs, expecting to see the gashes and wounds from the creature that attacked me, but there’s nothing. No scars, no blood. It’s like I was never hurt.

“I was hurt,” I whisper, my voice thick with confusion.

“You were healed,” he replies, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “I couldn’t let my favorite die.” He smiles, a smile that both unsettles and confuses me. His favorite? I should be pulling away from him, should be scrambling to break free from his hold, but I don’t. Instead, I relax into him, the warmth from his body seeping into me, chasing away the cold that’s clung to me for days.

“Megan!” The thought hits me suddenly, and I try to move, but his arms tighten around me, holding me in place.

“I healed her for you,” he whispers, and the tension drains from my body.

I exhale softly, the relief washing over me. “What was that thing?” I ask quietly, dreading the answer.

“A crawler,” he says, his tone darkening. “Abominations. They are born from the leftover fragments of failed demon creations. Vile creatures, rejected by us. They have no master, no rules. They creep into places they don’t belong, feeding off humans, slowly consuming their entire bodies, piece by piece.”

My stomach twists. The entire body? I can’t help but think of people who vanish without a trace. Could some of them have been taken by those things? I shudder at the thought, the image of the crawler’s black, soulless eyes flashing in my mind.

“You need to sleep now,” Zyraxiel whispers, his voice suddenly soft again, like a dark lullaby. “Good luck.”

I open my mouth to ask what he means, but before I can form the words, darkness sweeps over me, pulling me under.

---

When I open my eyes again, I’m surrounded by nothing but blackness. I can’t see anything, no walls, no floor, just endless void. The silence is suffocating, pressing in on all sides. Then, a voice cuts through the darkness, cold and emotionless.

“The rules are simple. You will each lose that part of yourself. Your demon will take it. If you struggle, you will lose more.”

The voice sends a chill down my spine, but I force myself to focus. Don’t struggle. Simple enough.

“If you end up losing more than one piece, you can scream out one of your secrets and have it end. Or you can call out one of your team’s secrets. You briefly hold their secrets in your mind.”

I blink, confused. Their secrets? How could I have other people’s secrets? But the voice presses on, offering no explanation.

“The screams you hear may not be real, but you can stop them. Call out a secret, either your own or someone else’s, and it will end. Good luck.”

I sit in the darkness, waiting. Silence surrounds me like a thick, suffocating blanket. The air feels heavy with anticipation, like something terrible is just out of reach, waiting to strike. I can hear it. The secrets of others floating through my mind.

Suddenly, the silence is shattered by a blood-curdling scream.

It’s so sharp, so full of raw agony that I instinctively flinch. It cuts through the blackness like a knife, and then, just as suddenly, it stops. The silence returns, even more oppressive than before. But then another scream echoes through the void. This one is longer, more desperate, filled with pain that I can feel in my bones.

“I had an affair!” a voice shouts, trembling and full of shame. The scream stops, the pain silenced by the confession.

Then more screams fill the air, louder, closer now. My heart races, the sound clawing at my insides. And then I hear it, Megan’s voice, sharp and clear, cutting through the chaos.

“Haisley sold herself for sex.”

The words hit me like a slap, and I freeze. Shock floods my body, leaving me cold and hollow. How could she say that? Shame coils around me like a noose, tightening with every passing second. I hear another woman screaming in the distance, but it’s drowned out by the weight of Megan’s confession. My secret.

I’m shaking, barely able to breathe as more screams echo through the darkness, each one growing more frantic, more desperate.

I can’t take it anymore. The sound, the pain, it’s too much. My lips part, and before I can stop myself, I speak. “I’ve worked backstage at a dance club after hours.” The woman’s screams stop abruptly, swallowed by the blackness.

The room falls silent again, but I can feel it, him. Zyraxiel steps forward, his presence heavy, almost suffocating in the void. I brace myself, my body tensing as he approaches. I know what’s coming. He’s here to take it, my darkest memory.

“Don’t fight it,” his voice whispers in the dark, as cold as the void surrounding us. I bite my lip, determined not to scream, determined not to struggle.

He reaches for me, and the second his hand touches my skin, the memory floods back with brutal clarity.

My mother’s scream. My father’s hand gripping the knife. The flash of steel. Blood, so much blood. Her body crumpling to the floor, lifeless, while I stood frozen, too scared to move, too scared to cry out. My father’s cold, dead eyes locking with mine before he turned and disappeared into the night.

The pain rips through me, sharp and all-consuming. It feels like my soul is being torn apart, piece by piece, as Zyraxiel takes the memory from me. But I don’t scream. I won’t. I bite down so hard on my lip I taste blood, but I refuse to give in. I refuse to let the pain win.

It feels like an eternity, the memory playing over and over in my mind as he pulls it from me, every detail sharp and vivid. But I stay silent. I hold on.

Finally, the pain fades, and I collapse to the ground, my body trembling, drenched in sweat. The memory is gone, ripped from me, but the emptiness it leaves behind is almost worse.

Zyraxiel stands over me, his expression unreadable as he watches me, but I can feel his satisfaction.

He kneels beside me, his glowing red eyes locking onto mine, studying me like I’m some intricate puzzle he’s finally starting to understand. “You’re selfless, Haisley,” Zyraxiel murmurs, his voice dark and almost tender. “You save others with your own secrets, while they use yours to save themselves. That darkness within you, it’s… delightful.” His lips curl into a smile, a slow, dangerous grin. “And though you still have fear, it’s not much. You’re not afraid of what you should be.”

Behind his words, the agonized screams continue, filling the air like some twisted symphony. I hear them, but I don’t react. His words hit me harder than the sounds of their pain.

“Stop saving them,” he says, his voice like a velvet blade. “They’ve already proven they wouldn’t do the same for you.”

I know he’s right. Deep down, I’ve known for a while. Something inside me feels hollow, like a void opening up where there used to be a flicker of hope or trust. The need to protect them, to shield them from this nightmare, it’s gone. Faded. I stare into the darkness as the screams echo around us, but I don’t flinch anymore. I just… listen.

Most of the women are calling out someone else’s secrets, shouting their betrayals into the dark, desperate to save themselves. I sit quietly, hearing it all, my heart cold. There’s no friendship here, no bonds, just survival.

Eventually, the screams fade, leaving nothing but a suffocating silence. Darkness descends, wrapping around me like a thick blanket, pulling me under.

---

When I wake, I’m back in the room. The others are still asleep, their faces slack with exhaustion and fear. I sit up, my body stiff and sore, but there’s a coldness inside me now. A sharp clarity.

I grab my few belongings and stand, moving away from them. Fuck them. I was the only one who tried to save Megan, who got clawed and bitten by that creature for her sake, and what did she do? She sold out my secrets, without a second thought.

I’m done. There’s no point in trying to save people who would throw me to the wolves the first chance they get. I’ve been holding onto this misplaced loyalty, this need to protect them, but no more.

I move farther away, letting the distance between me and the others grow. Whatever comes next, I’ll face it alone.

10 Taking Her Kindness

Zyraxiel POV

I learned quickly that Haisley’s kindness, her relentless need to protect and save others, was born from that dark memory she clung to. Her guilt over failing to save her mother had shaped her entire existence, a burden that weighed her down in every choice she made. She would never survive the final round if she still carried that with her.

Taking it from her wasn’t just necessary, it was a gift. The moment I stripped that memory from her, I watched the change unfold. She let go of the need to save others, no longer feeling compelled to act as their shield. She no longer sought redemption through them, no longer tried to make up for a past that haunted her. The hollow desperation to save them, to make amends for her mother’s death, faded. And with it, her weakness.

It’s fascinating, though, despite her darkness, despite the belief she held that she was ruined, broken beyond repair, she still believed that others had light in them. Haisley couldn’t see the truth. The people here, their darkness, their secrets, they weren’t born from survival like hers. No, their sins were choices. Made out of greed. Out of selfishness.

Haisley’s darkness? It’s pure, clean. It’s the darkness of survival. Of doing whatever it takes to live, to make it through another day. That’s why she called to me. Why she looked for me in the mirror. It’s why I went to her, why I’ve been drawn to her. I watched her, standing there, staring into that mirror, and I was afraid. Afraid she wouldn’t say the chant, wouldn’t give herself over to me. But not because she didn’t want to, no, she was ready. The only thing that stopped her was the others. Those same people who warned her, who told her not to say the chant. The ones who, when it was their turn, let her scream about the water rising as they stood silent, watching her drown. They knew she would’ve saved them, and they used that to their advantage.

And when their silence fell after, as she screamed and begged for help, the truth was clear, they had drowned in their own selfishness long before the water ever reached them.

If no one had spoken up to stop her, she would have said the chant instantly. She would’ve given herself to me without hesitation. It was only their words that held her back. They manipulated her trust, her belief that they were worth saving.

That memory, the one of her mother’s murder, had made her weak. But now, with it gone, she’s finally free. She has no idea how much stronger she’s become because of it. I hold the mirror that matches hers now. I can watch her through it, and I love what I see. She moved away from the other women without a second thought, isolating herself, severing ties with those who betrayed her. It means she’s learning, adapting. It means she has a chance.

A chance to survive the final part of this.

And in the end, that’s what I need. I hope she continues down this path, because the only way she will survive is if she learns to sacrifice them for herself. She must embrace the darkness fully, without remorse. She must give up on saving others and understand that her survival is all that matters.

The rules for us are simple, etched in the shadows we control, binding us but also giving us power over these humans. We can assist our chosen ones in any way they ask, gifts, food, even the occasional mercy. But we are bound by the law of the game. We cannot directly interfere with the actions of the other women, nor can we claim our human until the final game is complete. Still, within those boundaries, we demons wield immense power, and I intend to use every advantage I have to ensure Haisley survives.

That’s why I gave the other women food and water when Haisley asked. It wasn’t for their sake, it was for hers. It’s all part of the strategy. These women don’t know it, but they’re being softened up, lulled into a false sense of security. They think they’re still in control, that they can rely on the kindness of others. But in the end, it’s all an illusion. The game doesn’t favor the weak or the selfless. Only the ruthless survive.

Most chosen ones don’t last longer than a month or two. Their fear, their hesitation, their desperation to escape us, kills them. They crumble under the weight of the trials, their minds shattered, their bodies broken. But Haisley… she’s different. The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she was stronger, darker, and more resilient than the others. She has the potential to outlast them all. If I claim her, I know she will survive.

The final game is where everything comes together, where the true nature of the rules reveals itself. The last remaining women are placed in a twisted arena, a shadowy labyrinth of traps, mirrors, and illusions designed to test their limits. The objective? Find your demon before anyone else does.

But here’s the twist, the women are not just fighting to reach us. They are required to sabotage each other, to hinder the other’s attempts to win. It’s no longer about just surviving the challenges, but actively ensuring the others fail. The rules are clear, only one can claim their demon and emerge victorious. And sabotage isn’t just encouraged, it’s necessary. If you don’t try to destroy the competition, you’ll be seen as weak, and the demon won’t claim you.

In this final game, alliances crumble, and trust shatters. Each woman must betray the others, using lies, deceit, and any means necessary to ensure her own success. The labyrinth warps their perceptions, forcing them to confront their darkest fears and most hidden secrets. But the biggest challenge? They are all forced to face their own demons, both figuratively and literally.

As the women struggle through the maze, each step could be their last. The traps are deadly, and the illusions can drive them to madness. Only the strongest, the most ruthless, will make it to the center where we wait. And there, in the heart of the labyrinth, only one woman will stand victorious, having eliminated her competition, her soul irrevocably bound to the demon who claims her.

For Haisley, this game will be her final test. I’ve seen the darkness in her, the ability to sacrifice others for her own survival. But she’s not quite there yet. She still clings to some sliver of hope, some belief that she can outwit the game without fully giving in to its demands. But when the time comes, when she faces the other women in that labyrinth, she’ll have to make a choice.

To survive, she must destroy the others. To win, she must embrace the darkness that’s been inside her all along.

And when she finally does, she will be mine.

I see the other women wake, and decide it’s now time to see if she’s given up on saving others, I hope she has.