21 Her Fight

Zyraxiel POV

Haisley is unlike any human I’ve encountered in this game, and it’s sent ripples through the underworld. The tension surrounding her is palpable, electric, as if the very essence of the game has shifted because of her presence. Everyone, every demon, can feel it. They’ve all heard her name, whispered like a forbidden chant in the darkest corners. Her name drips from their lips with awe, envy, and desire. It’s no longer just about the game; it’s about her.

She’s made it exciting. Dangerous. The kind of dangerous I crave.

The final battle is drawing near, and every second counts. But Haisley… she’s drawn the attention of more than just the demons assigned to this wretched trial. Others, darker, more powerful beings, have begun watching her. It’s rare that a human garners this much attention, and it infuriates me.

Haisley is mine. She was mine the moment she entered this maze. But now, the others want her too. Some of them have already whispered their intentions, plans to slip in and take her before the final game even begins. They think I won’t notice, or that I’m too focused on the battle ahead. Fools. They have no idea who they’re dealing with.

That’s why I stayed with her, cradling her in the moments of stillness when her body ached from the cold and exhaustion. I held her, keeping her close, ensuring that no other demon dared approach. Even with the twenty-four-hour window open for us to visit our chosen ones, I never left her side. I couldn’t risk it.

The others wouldn’t survive if they tried to claim her alone, no demon would be that foolish, but together? They might think they stand a chance. I laughed at the thought. A worthy battle, perhaps, but they’ll never get the satisfaction. Not with her. Not with my Haisley.

I’ve helped her along this brutal journey, gifting her what she needs to survive. But the other demons, they’ve tried their hand at winning her favor too. One of them, Xarnathor, that twisted manipulator, dropped the chain that helped her escape the fire. It was a test of her fear, a way to see if she would break, if she would let panic consume her. I had hoped she would realize that the flames were tied to her fear, that if she surrendered the terror, the fire would fade.

But she didn’t scream. She didn’t beg. She endured, her body stiff with the cold from that cursed chain, and I couldn’t help but admire her.

She’s fought her way through this hellscape with more resilience than any of the others. She’s killed women, slashed through monsters, and faced demons head-on. And yet… she’s still human, for now. I’ve watched her hesitate at times, but only briefly. Her moments of weakness are fleeting. Unlike the others, who cower, hide, and betray one another for the smallest chance of survival, Haisley has grown darker with each passing hour. She’s learning the truth of this world, of my world.

I smiled when she placed those cursed berries into Megan’s box. The decision wasn’t made out of cruelty but necessity. She’s adapting. Only, Megan’s arrogance cost her a different death than I had envisioned. She fed the berries to another woman, brushing off the gift as if she were above it. The poor girl who ate them died in agony, her body twisted and bloated from the poison, while Megan watched on, amused.

But Megan’s end was fitting. The lake of death took her, the pit of blood bubbling as she screamed and fought, only to be swallowed whole. I wished her suffering had lasted longer, hours of torment would’ve been preferable, but in the end, the maze claimed her, as it will claim the others. Only four remain, including Haisley. The others? They’re shadows, flickering candles in the wind. They won’t survive the next round. Their demons might not even bother to try and save them.

But Haisley… she’s something else.

Despite her exhaustion, her wounds, and the darkness creeping into her soul, she’s still here. I can see the change in her, though, her eyes have grown darker, more distant. She’s embracing this world. The fire in her, the humanity that kept her tethered to hope, is flickering, dimming with every breath she takes. The cold has become her constant companion, the mark of something shifting inside her.

She’s on the edge now. So close to crossing the line, to giving herself to me. I can feel it. The thought stirs something in me that I haven’t felt in an eternity. She could choose to give up, to let the game consume her. Or she could choose me.

And that’s what I want…need. I’ve never cared before, never wanted a human to willingly give themselves to me. But Haisley is different. She’s not like the others, and I don’t want her because I can have her. I want her because she belongs in my world. She is darkness, wrapped in fragile skin. She just hasn’t realized it yet.

So I stayed with her, refusing to let anyone else claim what’s mine. The other demons think they can take her from me, that they can turn her, break her before I can. But they’re wrong. She’s already slipping, falling into the abyss where I can catch her.

I’ve given her everything she needs to survive this far, and now, she’ll face the final test. Her body is broken, her spirit teetering on the edge, and her soul… it’s ready to be claimed. But I won’t take it from her, not yet. She has to want it. She has to choose me.

And when the moment comes, she will. She’ll give in, because deep down, she knows, this world, this darkness, it’s where she truly belongs.

She should be back in the room with the others, the few who managed to survive. It would have been safer for her, or at least fair in the eyes of the other demons. But I couldn’t risk it—not with them circling like vultures, waiting for their chance to claim her. The danger of someone slipping in and taking what’s mine is too great.

That’s why she’s here, in my bed, her small, fragile body wrapped around mine. Her skin presses against my hardened, demonic form, and it stirs something deep within me every time I feel her breathe. I peer down at her, watching how she clings to me, seeking warmth in her sleep. She doesn’t know yet, but soon enough, she’ll never feel cold again. Once I claim her, once our souls are linked, she will never need warmth from anything but me.

I remember that night with perfect clarity, the way she stroked my horns, so bold, so unaware of what that did to me. And then the kiss… her kiss, trembling with desire, with the need for me to take her right then and there. She was willing, ready to surrender, to let me possess her fully. But I waited. If I take her now, I claim her entirely. And I want her to choose me, to crave the darkness I offer. So, it can wait.

But every glance at her naked body pressed against mine tests my control. Yes, she’s naked, because I stripped her of her clothes. I wanted to feel the contrast of her soft, warm flesh against the rough, hardened surface of my skin. It’s intoxicating, and the temptation to take more is maddening.

Her small form clings to me as if I’m her lifeline, her warmth, and in truth, I am. My fingers trace down her bare skin, my touch light, barely a whisper across her curves. She shifts in her sleep, her body reacting to my touch, and it ignites that insatiable desire within me. The memory of her writhing beneath me, the way her lips parted when I pleasured her, the sound of my name on her lips as she climaxed… I crave it again. I need it again.

But claiming her is more than just taking her body. When I finally take her, when I claim her, our connection will be complete. I’ll have power over her in ways she can’t even imagine. I can manipulate her mind, bend her pleasure and pain to my will. If I experience pleasure, I can make her feel it too, make her body mirror mine, magnifying every sensation until we are one.

That’s the magnificence of claiming a human.

My fingers glide down her back, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. Her skin shivers beneath my touch, and it takes every ounce of my willpower to keep myself from taking her now. I want to see her face twisted in pleasure again, hear her cries, watch her body tremble as she submits entirely to me. I want her to scream my name, just as she did that night when she woke with my head between her legs, my tongue bringing her to the edge over and over.

I want it so badly, I can almost taste it.

But not yet. Soon. She has to want it too. She has to choose me, to beg for me to claim her. And when she does… she’ll be mine forever.

22 Pleasure

Haisley POV

I don’t remember much after the mirrors shattered, just the biting cold that had seeped deep into my skin, wrapping around the burns and bruises, followed by the warmth that tried to push it away. The warmth was something else, something I knew wasn’t mine. It fought for control, trying to pull me out of that icy void.

But the dreams that followed… those were another nightmare entirely.

In the darkness of my sleep, I saw things, horrors that seemed so real, so visceral, I couldn’t tell if they were twisted memories of the game or figments of my tortured mind. There were moments where I was running, endlessly, through a maze of fire and shadow. Demons, faceless and ravenous, crawled out of the ground, their black claws dragging me down. The faces of the other women haunted me, their screams echoing in my ears, accusing me, blaming me for everything. Their twisted, broken bodies lunged at me from the shadows, eyes hollow and mouths gaping in silent agony.

But just when I thought the nightmares were over, something darker crept in. The landscape of the dream shifted, and the terror changed. Suddenly, it was no longer about fear, it was about him.

Zyraxiel.

The nightmares turned into something else entirely, dreams of him, of his power, of him claiming me. In the dreams, I could feel the darkness wrapping around me, suffocating me, yet it didn’t frighten me. Instead, I welcomed it. I welcomed him. My life became something oppressive, twisted, but in that darkness, I smiled. I felt free. Free from the weight of the world I’d been running from, free from the lies and the pain that had haunted me for so long.

In these dreams, I surrendered to Zyraxiel completely, and the longer they lasted, the more I craved it. I wanted it. I wanted him to claim me. It’s not just the dream anymore. It’s sinking into my mind, whispering to me even now as I wake. I’m actually considering it, considering asking him to claim me, to finally take what I know deep down I’ve already given him.

My body trembles, but it’s not from the cold. No, the cold is gone, replaced by something else. Something hotter, more powerful. A moan slips through my lips before I even realize it, and that’s when it hits me, I’m not dreaming anymore.

I feel the pleasure build inside me, raw and intense, my body arching involuntarily. My eyes snap open, and the first thing I see is Zyraxiel, his red eyes locked onto mine, dark and hungry. Another moan escapes me as I feel his fingers inside me, moving in slow, deliberate strokes.

I’m naked. Completely exposed beneath him, and the realization sends a shock through me. Why the hell am I naked? But the thought doesn’t last long, not with the wave of orgasm crashing through me, too fast, too strong for me to stop it. My body shakes uncontrollably as the pleasure tears through me, and Zyraxiel’s hand tightens on my hip, holding me in place as I ride the high.

When it’s over, I’m left breathless, my limbs trembling. My chest heaves as I try to calm my racing heart, staring up at him, unsure of what just happened. The room is silent, and the heat of him against me is overwhelming, but it’s the hunger in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine.

“What happened?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“The mirror reflections,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “That was your last task. You won.”

“So… it’s over?” I want to believe him, want to let myself relax, but something in his tone tells me otherwise. My body aches, my mind heavy with exhaustion, and I need a moment to recharge, to breathe.

He smiles, that dark, predatory smile that both thrills and terrifies me. “In a way, yes. But there’s still the final game.”

I should’ve known. My body tenses beneath him. “What is it?” I ask, already dreading the answer.

“The final game is different,” Zyraxiel says, his fingers trailing down my thigh, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “It’s no longer about tests or mazes. It’s about me getting to you. Protecting you.”

I frown, trying to piece it together. “Protecting me from what?”

“From other demons,” he says simply. “Now that you’ve survived this far, they want you. All of them. And they won’t wait for a battle, they’ll try to take you before I get to you. I’ll have to fight them off. A lot of them.”

I swallow hard. The thought of other demons wanting to claim me, to take what Zyraxiel believes is his, sends a cold shiver down my spine. “So, I have to fight?”

He nods, his eyes narrowing. “Yes, but not in the way you’ve fought before. You won’t be able to win against them, not alone. You need to avoid them, stay hidden until I find you. Don’t trust any of them. No matter what they promise, no matter how they try to deceive you.”

I bite my lip, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. “What happens if one of them gets to me before you?”

Zyraxiel’s gaze darkens, his grip tightening on my hip. “If they get to you, if they fuck you and take your soul, they win. I’ll lose you, Haisley. I won’t be able to take you back. You’ll be theirs, and I’ll lose my power over you.”

The thought of another demon claiming me, of taking my soul, sends a sickening dread through me. “So, I just have to run? Avoid them?”

He nods, his voice low and serious. “You need to be smart. They’ll offer you help. They’ll try to lure you in, pretending they can protect you. But the moment they get close enough to touch you, it’s over. Don’t go toward any demon except me.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the panic rising in my chest. “And if they find me?”

“Then I’ll kill them,” Zyraxiel growls, his eyes flashing with a fierce possessiveness. “I’ll fight every last one of them if I have to. But don’t make it easy for them, Haisley. Don’t let them take what’s mine.”

His words send a thrill through me, dark and twisted. Part of me should be scared, should be terrified of what’s about to come. But the longer I’m here with him, the more the fear fades, replaced by something else. Something darker. Something that wants to be claimed, to belong to him.

I nod slowly, my fingers brushing against his hard chest. “I won’t let them take me. I’ll wait for you.”

Zyraxiel’s eyes burn into mine, his grip on me tightening as if he’s already staking his claim. “Good,” he whispers, his voice a dangerous promise. “Because when I find you, Haisley, there will be no more waiting.”

I nod at his words, my hands raise to touch his horns.

Zyraxiel’s grip tightens around my wrists, and his eyes flash with a dark warning as he growls, “Stop.”

I let out a sigh, my body tense beneath his as I nod. “Why can’t I touch them?” I ask, confusion swirling in my mind. I know the effect it has when I touch his horns, the way it pushes him to the edge, but his resistance has me wondering why he’s so against it.

“I’m not claiming you yet,” he says quietly, his voice softer than before, but still filled with that same edge of restraint.

“Claiming me? Why do we need to wait for that? Why can’t we do anything until then?” It makes no sense to me. Every other time he’s touched me, it’s felt so intense, so primal. The idea of waiting feels like torture.

“It’s the way,” he explains, his voice low and matter-of-fact. “I don’t take someone before I claim them.”

I blink, struggling to wrap my mind around it. “So, you only have sex when you claim someone?” I ask, trying to understand. “You’ve never had sex without taking someone’s soul?”

He shakes his head, his expression serious, as if this is some ancient rule he’s bound by. “Never. It’s been that way since the beginning.”

His words hit me like a weight. “Wait,” I say, trying to piece it together. “So when you claim me, what then? Do we just stop? Do we never have sex again because you’ve already taken my soul?”

A shadow of a smirk plays at his lips, but his eyes remain intense. “No, once I claim you, it’s different. After that, we can continue. But not before. Not until I take your soul.”

I stare at him, my mind reeling. This is some twisted, demonic version of “no sex before marriage,” except here it’s “no sex before soul claiming.” The thought feels absurd, but at the same time, I can’t deny the dark pull I feel toward him, the craving for more.

“So, it’s like some weird, religious thing for demons?” I ask, half-joking, half-serious. “No sex before soul-binding?”

Zyraxiel’s lips twitch into a dark smile. “In a way. It’s not religious, it’s just the way it’s always been. For me, for all demons like me. Sex is part of the claiming. It’s how we merge souls, how we take you into us.”

I frown, feeling a strange mix of frustration and curiosity. “But, would you ever consider trying it differently? With me, I mean?”

His eyes darken, and for a moment, I see something flicker in them, hesitation, maybe even temptation. “Differently?” he repeats, his voice rough.

“Yeah,” I continue, my pulse quickening. “What if we tried it? Without the soul-taking part. Just you and me, without the claiming. Is that even possible?”

For the first time, Zyraxiel looks unsure. His grip on my wrists loosens slightly as he leans back, his eyes searching mine. “No demon has ever done that,” he says slowly. “Sex is tied to claiming, it’s how it works. It’s how it’s always worked. Without the soul, it’s incomplete.”

“But have you ever tried?” I challenge, my voice soft but steady. “Have you ever just been with someone? Without the claiming?”

His gaze sharpens, his eyes locking onto mine with a kind of intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. “No,” he admits, his voice a low growl. “I haven’t.”

I swallow, the air between us thick with tension. “Then why not try it? With me. No soul-taking, no claiming, just us.”

The room feels charged, every breath between us heavy with possibility. For a long moment, he’s silent, his eyes flickering with a mix of desire and something deeper, something darker. His hands rest on my hips, the heat of his touch burning through my skin as if he’s weighing the idea.

“I could lose control,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous. “If I take you now, it will be difficult to stop.”

I bite my lip, my pulse racing. “I trust you,” I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest. “Let’s try it.”

Zyraxiel’s breath hitches, his hands tightening on me as he pulls me closer. The darkness in his gaze deepens, and I can feel the raw need radiating from him, barely held in check.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says, his voice a rumble that vibrates through my entire body.

“Then let’s find out what happens,” I whisper back, my fingers brushing against his skin, feeling the heat of him. “No claiming, no soul-taking just us.”

For a moment, he hesitates, as if battling some internal war. Then, with a deep growl, his lips crash down on mine, the intensity of the kiss sending a jolt of electricity through me. His touch is rough, demanding, but underneath it, I can feel the restraint, the way he’s holding back.

As his hands move over my body, exploring, caressing, I can feel the raw power he’s trying to contain. But for the first time, he’s not claiming me. He’s just with me.

And it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

23 Taking Her

Zyraxiel POV

The taste of her lingers on my tongue, a mix of her sweat, her essence, and something sweeter, something dark that pulls me deeper into my own desire. Her body, warm and trembling beneath me, arches in surrender as I devour her. My tongue traces her folds with precision, each flick against her clit sending her spiraling closer to the edge. Her moans fill the air, rising higher with every stroke of my tongue until, finally, she shatters. Her body convulses, spasms of pleasure tearing through her, and I revel in the sound of her cries, the taste of her release.

I move slowly up her body, savoring every inch of her skin beneath my lips. My horns graze the sheets, sharp against the softness of the bed, and her hands, god, her hands, reach up eagerly, grasping them, tugging as if she knows how it affects me. Her fingers dig into the ridged surface, and I groan, a low, guttural sound, as I position myself above her. The heat between us is undeniable, a flame that roars higher with every breath we take.

When I thrust into her, it’s like sinking into fire. Her tightness, her warmth, wraps around me, and for a moment, I lose myself in the sensation. Our bodies move together, perfectly synchronized, a rhythm that feels both primal and intimate. Every thrust, every pull of her hands on my horns, sends jolts of pleasure through me. My mind swirls with thoughts of claiming her, of taking her soul and merging it with mine in an eternal bond. If I did, this would be more, so much more. I would feel everything she feels, our pleasure shared in a way that transcends the physical.

But there’s something about this, about not claiming her yet, that’s just as intoxicating. My focus is entirely on her, on the way her body moves, the way she cries out my name. It’s different. It’s raw. It’s… human.

Each thrust grows more desperate, more intense, as I push deeper, harder. Her screams echo off the walls, driving me mad with lust. The thought of losing her in the final battle, of another demon claiming her, fuels my frenzy. I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her. She’s mine.

My hips slam into hers, and the fire between us ignites into an inferno. Her moans, once soft and breathless, grow louder, more desperate, until they’re nothing but pure, primal need. Her body clamps down around me, her pussy gripping me with each powerful wave of her climax, and I feel her unravel beneath me.

My horns press harder into her hands, leaving indentations in her skin as I mark her as mine, and mine alone. Each thrust is possessive, driving me closer to the edge, and I know, I know, that soon, she will beg me to claim her. How could she not? This connection, this fire between us, is undeniable.

With a brutal thrust, I bury myself deep inside her, my nails digging into her skin, and I feel the sharp sting of her blood on my fingertips. The scent of it, the warmth, drives me wild. I raise my hand to my lips, tasting the coppery sweetness of her blood as it coats my fingers, and a primal growl escapes me.

Her body trembles beneath mine, her own climax building again, and as her pleasure peaks, I lose control. My release floods through me, raw and powerful, surging into her. Our mouths crash together in a desperate kiss, her taste and the taste of her blood mingling on my tongue. I kiss her hard, claiming her lips with the same intensity as my thrusts, needing to feel her, needing to taste her, needing to own her.

But even now, with her body trembling in my arms, with her moans filling the air, I hold back. I haven’t taken her soul yet. This is different, this is me showing her what it means to be mine without fully claiming her. And as I pull back, staring down into her half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling in the aftermath of our passion, I know it’s only a matter of time.

She will beg me. She will ask me to claim her.

And when she does… she will be mine forever.

I pull back, breathless and consumed by the sight of her beneath me, Haisley, panting, her body still trembling from the pleasure I’ve given her. Her eyes, half-lidded, meet mine with a dazed intensity, and for a moment, I’m lost in the deep connection we share. She hasn’t asked yet, hasn’t begged for me to claim her, but I can feel it building within her, the need, the desire to give herself to me completely.

I’ve never felt this way about a human before. The power I hold over her, the way her body responds to mine, it’s intoxicating. But it’s more than just physical. There’s something in her, something dark and beautiful, that calls to me in ways I haven’t experienced before. She’s different from the others who’ve come through the game, different from anyone I’ve ever wanted to claim.

I watch her closely, her chest rising and falling, her lips parted as she catches her breath. My fingers trace the lines of her body, moving slowly, reverently, like I’m memorizing every inch of her. The hunger I feel for her isn’t sated; it’s deepened, grown more intense with every moment I spend with her.

“You want to ask me,” I whisper, my voice a low growl as I lean closer, my breath hot against her ear. “You want me to claim you.”

She shivers beneath me, her eyes widening slightly at my words. Her lips part, but no words come out, just a soft, breathless moan that sends a surge of desire through me.

Her silence is telling. She’s on the edge, so close to surrendering. But she’s still holding back, still wrestling with herself, with the idea of fully giving herself to me. I lean in further, pressing my lips to the curve of her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my mouth.

“Let me take you,” I murmur, my voice dark and commanding. “Let me claim you, Haisley. You’ve already given yourself to me in so many ways. Finish it. Make it real.”

She arches her back, her body responding to every word I say, but she still hesitates. I can feel the conflict inside her, the fear, the uncertainty. But also the desire. It pulses between us, a living, breathing thing, growing stronger with every touch.

I run my hands along her body, my fingers lingering on the soft curve of her hip before moving up to her breasts, feeling the way her body reacts to my touch. She’s shaking, torn between wanting to give in and holding onto what little control she has left. Her nails dig into my shoulders, and I revel in the sensation of her clinging to me.

“Why do you resist?” I ask, my voice low and dangerous, teasing her as I hover just above her lips. “You already know you’re mine. You’ve known it from the moment I touched you.”

Haisley’s eyes close for a brief second, as if she’s trying to center herself, trying to fight the pull. But when she opens them again, there’s no mistaking the desire that burns within her. It’s there, raw and unfiltered, as she gazes up at me.

“I—” she starts, her voice trembling, but I don’t let her finish. I kiss her, hard and deep, pulling her back into the heat of our connection. My hands roam her body, rough and demanding, and she moans into the kiss, her resolve crumbling beneath the intensity of it.

When I pull away, her lips are swollen, her breath ragged, and she looks at me with a mixture of fear and longing. “If I let you claim me,” she whispers, her voice shaky but resolute, “what happens to me?”

I smile, my lips curling into something dark and dangerous. “You become mine,” I say simply, my hand tracing up her throat. “Your soul becomes a part of me. Your pain, your pleasure, they become mine as well. You will feel everything I feel. You will never be alone, Haisley. You will be bound to me, forever.”

Her breath catches at the word forever, and I see the flicker of fear in her eyes. But there’s something else there too, something darker, something more enticing. She’s tempted by the idea of it, by the thought of losing herself to me, of becoming something more than human.

“I won’t force you,” I add, leaning in so my lips brush against her ear. “But I won’t wait forever either. You’ll beg me to claim you soon enough.”

Her body trembles beneath me, her breaths coming faster as she processes my words. I press my forehead against hers, my horns grazing her skin. Her hand reaches up again, tentative, and brushes against one of my horns, sending a shock of electricity through me.

“Zyraxiel…” she whispers, and I can hear the hesitation in her voice, the fear warring with the desire. She’s teetering on the edge, so close to surrendering.

“You can’t resist forever,” I murmur against her lips. “You will be mine. Whether you choose to give yourself willingly… or I take you.”

She looks up at me, her eyes full of uncertainty, and I know the decision is coming. But not yet. There’s still time.

For now, I’ll wait. Because when she finally gives in, when she begs me to claim her, that will be the moment I’ve been waiting for. And in that moment, she will be mine, completely and utterly, forever.

24 The Other Women

Haisley POV

Zyraxiel is convinced that I’ll ask him to claim me, and maybe I was close to it, but something inside me is still holding back. It feels… unreal. As if this is all some twisted dream that I’ll wake up from, and making that choice might bind my soul in ways I can’t undo. A part of me wonders if this is just a game of the mind, some illusion. Could this be hell? Or could I actually be safe, and claiming my soul would be giving it to the devil without realizing?

Despite the hesitation, there’s still a pull, a temptation that’s hard to resist. Every moment I spend with him, the choice becomes less a matter of fear and more of inevitability.

Zyraxiel moves beside me, breaking my thoughts as he hands me some clothes. “I should take you back to the women,” he says softly.

I hesitate. “Is it safe?” I’m unsure if I can trust anyone but him.

“For now,” he replies, his voice calm but edged with something darker. “I’ll be watching you, so yes, it’s safe.”

I nod at his words, pulling on the clothes. Even with the layers, the memory of his touch lingers on my skin, warming me in ways the fabric can’t. A moment later, he lifts me effortlessly, and I feel the air shift as the portal opens. The temperature plummets, and we step through, back into the cold reality of the room with the other survivors.

Three women. Only three others made it. They aren’t the same ones I remember, none of the faces belong to women I had known from the beginning, but their eyes are full of disdain, their glares sharp enough to cut through flesh. I can feel the tension the second we appear, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Zyraxiel carries me across the room, over to the pile of items. My blanket, the mirror, everything I had before, still here. He places me down gently beside the pile, and I can feel his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he turns his attention to the room. I try to smile at him, but the weight of their stares burns into me. I know they’re planning something. I can feel it.

“They’re going to attack,” I whisper to him, unable to shake the feeling of danger crawling up my spine.

Zyraxiel’s eyes shift toward the women, his expression darkening. His presence seems to expand, filling the room with an oppressive, terrifying energy. He glares at them, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. “Touch her,” he snarls, “and I will personally rip you apart. One limb at a time. Slowly.”

My breath catches in my throat, and I glance at the women. Their eyes widen in fear, but the tension doesn’t fully dissipate. Zyraxiel’s warning is enough to make them hesitate, but not enough to erase their hatred. He turns his gaze back to me, the fire in his eyes still burning.

“I’ll be watching you,” he says quietly, leaning down to brush his fingers against my cheek. “You’re not alone, Haisley.”

I nod, my heart racing at the weight of his words, at the promise in his tone. His presence is both my shield and my prison, but for now, it’s the only safety I have.

With one last, lingering look, Zyraxiel stands and steps toward the portal, his form dissolving into the shadows as he leaves. The room feels colder without him, the atmosphere charged with the hostility of the other women.

The moment he’s gone, I can hear their hushed whispers, soft but filled with venom. “She’s the one he favors,” one of them mutters.

“It won’t matter in the end,” another hisses. “We just need to survive long enough to finish her off.”

I glance at them from the corner of my eye, trying not to let the fear show on my face. I wish I still had my dagger, the one I used to defend myself last time. The weight of it in my hand had given me some sense of control, some sense of power. Now, all I have is this blanket and the coldness that creeps back in as the minutes pass.

I pull the blanket tighter around myself, my mind racing. Zyraxiel may be watching, but I know better than to rely on that entirely. These women, they hate me. They’ve seen me survive things they didn’t, and now I’m a threat to them. And I know… they won’t hesitate to take me down the moment they think they can get away with it.

I sit quietly, my back against the wall, my eyes flickering between the women as they huddle and whisper. Each word they share feels like a plan forming, like a noose tightening around my throat. I need to be ready for whatever comes next, but without my dagger, without any weapon, I’m vulnerable.

Zyraxiel said he’d protect me, but how long can I count on that? The final game is looming, and I know that no matter how much he watches over me, there will come a time when I’ll have to fight for myself. Relying solely on him feels foolish.

Surely though, the final game will be between us and our demons, right? Won’t each of us have our own battle to face, with our own demon guiding us through it? I’m not sure, and maybe I should’ve asked Zyraxiel while I had the chance. At least then, I’d know if I needed to be prepared to face the last women as well. But now, it’s too late, and the uncertainty gnaws at me.

“If we kill her, Zyraxiel will claim one of us,” one of the women mutters, her voice dripping with malice.

The comment grates at me, like nails dragging across my skin. They’ve been whispering ever since I returned, thinking I can’t hear them, or worse, that I won’t do anything about it. But each word makes my blood boil, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second.

“She thinks she’s safe because of him,” another voice hisses, followed by a mocking laugh. “But what happens when he’s not around?”

I clench my fists beneath the blanket, my patience wearing thin. They don’t get it. They think I’m weak, that I’m only here because of Zyraxiel’s protection. But I’ve fought to survive just as much as they have, if not more. Their words cut deeper than they know, but it’s not fear that stirs within me. It’s rage.

“She’s just pretending,” one of the women sneers, her voice louder this time, directed right at me. “She won’t fight us. She’s scared. She’s only brave because her demon is watching.”

That’s it. I’ve had enough.

Without another thought, I shove the blanket off me and stand up. The cold air hits my skin, but I barely feel it. I walk straight toward them, my eyes fixed on their sneering faces. Their smug expressions falter as I approach, but I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of them, my heart pounding with a mixture of anger and adrenaline.

“Do it,” I say, my voice cold and steady. “Touch me. Right now.”

The room falls into a tense silence, and I can see the surprise flicker in their eyes. They exchange glances, as if they’re not sure whether to take me seriously.

“You’re only saying that because Zyraxiel will protect you,” one of them says, trying to sound confident but failing. “You think he’s going to swoop in and save you, don’t you?”

I take a step closer, my gaze unwavering. “I don’t need Zyraxiel,” I snap, my voice firm. “I don’t need him to protect me from the likes of you.”

They laugh, but it’s a nervous laugh now, uncertainty creeping into their smugness. They don’t know what to make of me. They’ve seen me survive, they’ve seen me fight, but they’ve never seen me like this, ready to confront them head-on.

“I’ll tell him to stay back,” I continue, my voice rising. “You want to fight me? You want to kill me? Do it. Right here. Right now.” I glance around at each of them, my eyes narrowing. “But let me tell you something, I’m done with your whispers, your plotting. If you come at me, I will fight back, and I will be the one left standing while your bodies lie broken and dead on the floor.”

They fall silent, the weight of my words sinking in. The tension in the air thickens, and for a moment, none of them move. I can see the doubt in their eyes now, the fear that they’ve pushed me too far. One of them shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the others as if she’s waiting for someone else to make the first move.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Weren’t you all so sure of yourselves just a moment ago? What happened to killing me and taking my place? Go on, do it. Fight me.”

They stare at me, their bravado crumbling in the face of my challenge. The silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating, until finally, one of them speaks, her voice shaking.

“She’s bluffing,” she mutters, but the lack of confidence in her voice is clear.

“Try me,” I reply, stepping even closer, until I’m almost nose to nose with her. “I dare you.”

Her eyes flicker with hesitation, and in that moment, I know I’ve won. None of them will touch me, not now. They may have thought I was weak, but they don’t understand that I’ve already faced horrors far worse than anything they could throw at me. I’ve faced demons, I’ve faced death itself, all before this game and I’m still standing.

“You don’t scare me,” I say softly, but the menace in my voice is unmistakable. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

I turn and walk away, leaving them standing in stunned silence, the threat of violence still hanging in the air. They won’t challenge me again, not after this.

And if they do, they’ll regret it. I sit back down, wrapping the blanket around me and no one talks. No one even moves, for ages they don’t make a noise, then they begin whispering again.

Slowly, my head drops, and tiredness sweeps me away.

25 Attacked

Haisley

I wake with a scream, the sharp, burning pain of someone yanking my hair jolting me into full consciousness. My body instinctively thrashes against the grip, and I hear a low, mocking laugh from above me. They waited until I was asleep. Cowards.

Twisting sharply, I grab at her ankles, my fingers digging in as I yank hard. The woman, whoever she is, loses her balance, and with a dull thud, she crashes to the floor, groaning as her hold on my hair loosens. But she’s quick, too quick. Before I can react, she’s on top of me again, her fists flying as she lands punches against my arms and face.

Fuck. This isn’t just a fight. This is survival.

“After this,” I grunt, raising my arms to shield my face from the blows, “I’m finding out why everyone is so obsessed with Zyraxiel claiming them. You all have your own demons!”

Her laugh is bitter, dark. She doesn’t care about the demons. She just wants me dead. I can see it in her eyes, the madness that grips her as her fists connect with my body, the wild, unrelenting need to destroy me. I grit my teeth and swing my knee up, hitting her side hard enough to throw her off balance. The impact knocks the wind out of her, but she barely flinches.

I manage to push her off me, scrambling to my feet, but she lunges again, tackling me to the ground with a brutal force. The two of us roll, clawing, hitting, biting, each of us fighting for control, for survival. My heart pounds in my chest, each breath coming faster as the room narrows into a blur of chaos.

Her hands grab my throat, squeezing, her face twisted with rage. Panic surges through me, but I refuse to go down like this. I grip her wrists, my fingers digging into her flesh, and push her off, rolling us until I’m on top. I slam her head into the floor with a vicious crack. Bone against stone.

The sound is sickening, like glass shattering, and it echoes through the room, but she still doesn’t stop. I stumble back, panting, sweat mixing with blood, both hers and mine. I’m ready to quit, my body aching, my vision blurred. But she doesn’t give me the chance. Despite her injuries, despite the broken bones and blood pouring down her face, she lunges for me again, her eyes wild with hatred.

I scream in frustration, grabbing her by the hair and slamming her head into the floor again. And again. And again.

Her body jerks with every impact, but she keeps coming, her movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. The sound of her skull hitting the stone is brutal, unforgiving. But I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop, I die.

So I keep slamming her head into the floor, the sound of bone cracking and splitting becoming louder, more visceral. Blood splatters across my hands, warm and sticky, but I don’t stop. Not until her body finally stills beneath me, her limbs twitching before going completely limp.

Her chest rises once, twice, then nothing.

The silence is deafening.

I sit there, panting, my hands shaking, covered in blood, her lifeless body beneath me. The madness of the fight still thrums in my veins, but the relief, the realization that it’s over, hits me like a wave. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and for a moment, I feel like I might collapse.

“Leave me!” I scream hoarsely, my voice barely a whisper now, knowing Zyraxiel is nearby. I don’t need him saving me, not now. This was my fight, my kill.

But even as I sit there, staring at the bloody, broken mess of the woman beneath me, I feel the weight of the exhaustion. The finality of it. The blood drips from my fingertips, pooling on the stone floor. I feel the numbness creeping in, the cold realization that I just killed someone with my bare hands.

I stand, shaky, my legs weak beneath me, and step back from the lifeless body, my mind racing but my heart… quiet. There’s no remorse. No regret.

Just survival.

I look at the women, my voice sharp and edged with frustration. “Well? Who’s next? Or are you going to wait until I’m asleep as well?” I shout, daring them to make a move. Their heads shake quickly in unison, a sudden fear flickering in their eyes as if they’ve finally realized the danger in pushing me too far.

Suddenly, I feel Zyraxiel’s arms wrap around me, pulling me back into his chest. The warmth of him envelopes me, and my body collapses into his strength, too drained to stand on my own any longer. His presence behind me is like a shield, his power pulsing through the air, keeping the others at bay.

“Why me?” I whisper, looking at the women. I’m genuinely confused. “Why do you all want Zyraxiel to claim you?” To me, it makes no sense. Wouldn’t it be easier to let their own demons claim them, rather than obsess over mine?

“It’s clear that Zyraxiel will protect the woman he claims,” one of them snaps, her voice filled with desperation. “He’ll keep her alive. The others they aren’t going to do that! They’ll just play with us, then kill us when they’re done!”

Zyraxiel’s laugh rumbles from behind me, low and menacing. “I wouldn’t keep you alive,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re just like all the others. Weak. Pathetic. Greedy. Selfish.” His words cut through the room like a blade. “None of you would still be alive if you hadn’t relied on help from others. So go ahead, kill her if you must. But it won’t change a thing. I’ll still kill whoever I claim in the end.”

I roll my eyes at his blunt honesty, but it doesn’t surprise me. Zyraxiel is many things, merciful isn’t one of them.

“Why her!” one of the women snaps, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and jealousy. “All our demons have spoken about her. Why her?”

I feel Zyraxiel’s gaze on me, heavy and possessive, as he considers his reply. His grip on me tightens, one hand sliding up to my neck, holding me securely against him. His voice is softer now, but still dark and commanding. “She carries a unique darkness within her. One that doesn’t come from selfishness or greed. It’s real. It’s pure. It’s the most powerful darkness there is.”

His words hang in the air, thick with meaning. I can feel the truth in them, the weight of his belief in that darkness within me, the part of me that I’ve tried to bury for so long. His hand on my neck sends a shiver down my spine, not from fear, but from something deeper, something I don’t want to name.

Zyraxiel’s head lowers beside mine, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, “Sleep. I won’t leave, so they can’t attack you. You need rest. Then you need to eat.” His voice is soothing, almost tender, and I find myself nodding without protest.

He’s right. I’m too tired, too worn down to keep fighting right now. I could push myself, fight them now if I had to, but what would be the point? I’d only be exhausting myself more, making it harder when the real battle comes, when Zyraxiel has to face the other demons to claim me.

As I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the safety of his embrace, I can only hope that the women finally understand. My being dead or alive won’t change their chances. No matter what they do, it won’t improve their odds of survival. I’m no longer their enemy.

Their fight isn’t with me. It’s with the darkness they’ve been running from all along. And soon, they’ll see just how hopeless their struggle truly is.

26 Calm Before Storm

Haisley

I wake to the gentle rocking of movement, my body held securely in Zyraxiel’s arms. It takes me a moment to realize what’s happening, and I instinctively try to break free from his hold. My muscles are weak, too tired to resist, and he pulls me tighter against his chest, his strength overwhelming any attempts I make.

“You need to shower and a change of clothes,” he says, his voice low and matter-of-fact.

He’s right, I do. The layers of grime, blood, and sweat have been clinging to me for days, and I feel like a walking corpse. Resigned, I give up trying to escape and let my head rest against him. His warmth surrounds me, making me feel small and fragile in a way I haven’t allowed myself to in a long time.

As he steps through the familiar doorway into his space, I can’t help but look up at him in confusion. “Why didn’t you just do that magic portal thing straight here?” I ask, my voice hoarse from exhaustion.

“There’s a risk one of the women would try to jump through with us. This is my personal space, no one is allowed in here,” he shrugs, his tone nonchalant as if it were obvious. He pushes open a large door, leading us into a room I haven’t seen before.

The bathroom is massive, far grander than anything I could have imagined. The walls are made of coal-black stone, rough and uneven, with veins of red running through the brick like blood trapped beneath the surface. The floor beneath us is dark and slick, the heat of the room causing a low, almost imperceptible mist to hang in the air. Steam rises from an oversized shower at the far end, the water cascading down in a constant rush, the sound filling the space like a distant storm.

Zyraxiel sets me down gently and begins to strip me without hesitation, his hands moving deftly as he peels the filthy clothes from my body. I shiver as the cool air hits my skin, but before I can react, he’s already guiding me toward the shower. I stand there, naked and exposed, as he follows me inside, his own body towering over mine.

The water hits me first, a scalding torrent that quickly washes away the filth of weeks spent fighting, running, surviving. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat sinking deep into my bones, loosening muscles that have been tense for what feels like forever. The blood, dirt, and grime slide off my skin in dark rivulets, swirling around the drain like something cursed being washed away.

Zyraxiel stands close behind me, his body just inches from mine. His hands move over me, guiding the water over my skin, his fingers brushing against my flesh as he helps cleanse me. There’s something primal about it, something almost ritualistic, as if this moment isn’t just about washing away the dirt, but about purging me of everything I’ve carried with me through this game. Every wound, every scar, every memory of the battles I’ve fought.

The water runs down my body, pooling around my feet as I stand there, letting it all go. For the first time in days, I feel the weight of exhaustion hit me fully, but it’s different now, cleansing, like the water itself is stripping away more than just the grime. It’s taking the fear, the anger, the pain, and leaving me raw and vulnerable.

Zyraxiel steps closer, the heat of his body pressing against my back, and I can feel the roughness of his skin as his hands move over me, scrubbing away the last remnants of the weeks spent in hell. His touch is firm but gentle, almost reverent as he cleans me. The water cascades between us, sliding over my breasts, down my stomach, and along my legs, until I am left standing clean for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

His fingers trail down my spine, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver through me despite the heat. I tilt my head back, letting the water hit my face, washing away the last traces of blood from my hair. When I open my eyes, I see his reflection in the coal walls, dark, imposing, and utterly unrelenting. He watches me, his eyes glowing with something ancient, something dangerous.

The water continues to rush over me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel something close to peace. But there’s no denying the undercurrent between us, the tension that pulses just beneath the surface.

Zyraxiel’s hand slips around my waist, pulling me gently back against him. His lips brush against my ear, and his voice, low and gravelly, sends a shiver down my spine despite the heat of the water.

“Let it all go, Haisley,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck. “You’ve earned this.”

I close my eyes, feeling his presence all around me as the water continues to wash away the past. For now, in this moment, I let myself fall into the illusion of safety he offers, even though I know what lies ahead.

After washing, Zyraxiel dries me, his hands careful but firm, as if trying to ground me back to reality after everything I’ve just endured. He hands me clothes, and when I see what he’s chosen, exercise leggings and a vest top, I can’t help but laugh bitterly. “Am I expected to run?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. It feels like a cruel joke, dressing me for something I’m not ready to face.

But his eyes tell me I’m missing the point entirely. They’re dark, intense, like there’s something looming just out of my reach that I haven’t yet grasped.

“What’s going to happen during this?” I ask, my voice sharper than intended. “You keep saying you need to get to me, fight other demons.” But none of it really makes sense, not enough for me to feel remotely prepared for what’s coming.

Zyraxiel doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he hands me a plate of food. The smell hits me first, making my stomach rumble in response, but I can’t even think about eating right now. I sit there, staring at the food, waiting for him to speak, for some clarity.

Finally, his voice cuts through the silence. “Demons will try to claim you. Some demons, however, won’t, not because they don’t want you, but because they want something else from you. Once they get it, they’ll leave you for the others.”

A chill runs through me, and my throat tightens as I process what he’s saying. “Leave me to the others?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The implications are horrifying, but I need to hear him say it.

“A body to use for pleasure,” he answers plainly, as if it’s just another fact. “But no one will get to do that.”

I snap my gaze to him, my fury rising. “You can’t be sure,” I say, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. He’s talking about something far worse than death. What he’s saying is that some demons might want to claim me, but others… others might just want to use me. How am I supposed to survive that?

“I am sure,” he replies, his voice steady, unshaken.

His confidence infuriates me. It feels misplaced, like he’s dismissing the very real danger I’ll be in. “Where will I be, and where will you be, Zyraxiel?” I demand, my voice rising in panic. “Because it sounds like I’ll be completely alone in this.”

“On opposite ends of the map,” he says, as if that’s supposed to reassure me.

I stare at him, feeling the weight of those words sink in. Opposite ends. So, I’ll be alone. Completely alone. The thought makes my chest tighten, panic bubbling up inside me. “So I’ll be left alone with… with demons hunting me down,” I whisper, the reality hitting harder than I expected.

“It’s not how you think,” Zyraxiel says, stepping closer. His eyes soften, but his tone remains firm. “The demons won’t appear until I’m closing in on their spots. They won’t know exactly where you are, and they won’t start hunting you from the beginning. If I hurt them enough, they won’t get close to you.”

“But they could,” I snap, my voice breaking. “There’s always that risk, isn’t there? That they could get to me before you do.”

Zyraxiel sighs, his frustration showing. “Yes, there’s a risk. But the closer I get to you, the more I can control the situation. The demons will be focused on stopping me, not hunting you.”

I shake my head, my hands trembling as I set the plate of food down. “You’re asking me to trust you completely, but if one of them finds me first—” I can’t even finish the thought, the terror of what could happen if a demon decides to claim me, or worse, use me, is too much.

Zyraxiel steps closer, his hands gripping my shoulders, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Haisley, listen to me,” he says, his voice low and intense. “I will reach you. I won’t let any of them get to you first. You have to trust me. I didn’t bring you this far just to lose you now.”

His words carry a weight that settles heavily in my chest, but I still feel the fear gnawing at the edges of my mind. I’ve seen too much. “I don’t know if I can trust anyone anymore,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

He leans in, his eyes locked on mine. “You have no choice. You trust me, or you don’t survive this.”

I swallow hard, the truth of his words hitting me like a blow. I don’t have a choice. If I let the fear take over, if I doubt him now, I’m dead, or worse.

But that doesn’t make this any easier.

Zyraxiel’s grip on my shoulders tightens just enough to ground me. “I’ve never wanted a human the way I want you,” he says, his voice softer now. “Do you really think I would let anyone else take you from me?”

I bite my lip, searching his eyes for any hint of weakness, any sign that he’s as unsure as I am. But all I see is determination. A kind of possessiveness that borders on obsession.

Slowly, I nod. “Okay,” I whisper. “But if I see anything… if I feel like something’s coming, I’m not waiting for you. I’m running. I won’t just stand there and hope you get to me in time.”

Zyraxiel smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He steps back, releasing me, and gestures to the food. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”

I glance down at the plate again, my appetite returning with the realization that I might need every ounce of strength I can muster for what’s coming. As I pick up the fork and start eating, Zyraxiel watches me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

I have to trust him.

Because if I don’t, the consequences could be far worse than anything I’ve faced so far.

27 Their Craving

Haisley

I fell asleep again, Zyraxiel having once more applied something to my wounds to help them heal faster. It’s a good thing too, I need all the strength I can get for whatever comes next. But sleep hasn’t been restful. My dreams are filled with visions of me asking Zyraxiel to claim me, though the reality is, I’m still not ready.

He’s promised to give me the time I need to decide for myself, and maybe that’s exactly what I need, a few more days to work up the courage. In my dreams, it feels incredible to be claimed by him, but waking up is always a jolt back to uncertainty. What does this really mean? What will my life be like once I’m claimed? Zyraxiel hasn’t exactly been clear about what comes next. Do I live with him forever? Will I see anyone else? Will I even be allowed to leave?

All these thoughts swirl around in my mind as I drift through sleep. But then I feel a sudden shaking, jarring me awake. My eyes snap open to find two of the women standing over me.

I scramble back, instinctively trying to put distance between us, my heart racing with the thought that they’ve come to attack me. But then I notice something strange. We’re not in that room anymore.

We’re somewhere else.

The ground beneath us is dark and cracked, like scorched earth. Massive stone pillars rise up around us, twisted and jagged, with thick black vines creeping along their surfaces. Shadows writhe at the edges of the space, and everywhere I look, I see swirling portals, some glowing with faint light, others pitch black. There’s a heavy, oppressive feeling in the air, like something dark is watching, and waiting.

It feels like we’ve been dropped into a nightmare.

“We’re not sure when this is starting, but you should be awake,” one of the women says, her voice low and tense.

“So far, it’s been quiet,” the other adds, but there’s a tremor in her voice that tells me she’s anything but calm.

I sit up, still shaken from the sudden change in location. “We’re together?” I ask, my voice filled with suspicion. “Why are we put together?”

“Yeah, so we can help each other,” one of them whispers.

I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter. “Are you fucking joking? After how you all treated me, why would I help any of you?”

Before either of them can respond, a sudden, deafening noise rips through the air. It’s like a deep, guttural roar, followed by the sound of something massive crashing into the ground. The earth beneath us trembles, and all three of us freeze.

The distant growls and howls start to build, growing louder with each passing moment. It sounds like an army of beasts, demons, and nightmares all clashing, and it’s getting closer.

We stay in place for what feels like hours, every muscle in my body coiled tight as I listen to the chaos unfold around us. The sounds of fighting grow louder, the screeching of metal against stone, the monstrous roars filling the air until it feels like the walls themselves are shaking. The tension is unbearable, the weight of whatever’s coming pressing down on us like a storm waiting to break.

Suddenly, two massive forms emerge from the darkness, their eyes glowing with malevolent light. The demons. One of them towers over the other, its horns twisted and black, its skin rippling with shadows. The other has long, sharp claws, dragging them across the ground as it steps forward. They’re not here to hunt, they’re here to take.

Fear floods my system, and I bolt without a second thought, ducking behind one of the large stone pillars. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I crouch low, my heart pounding in my chest. One of the women follows me, her footsteps hurried as she hides beside me.

But the third woman… she’s too slow.

I peer out from behind the pillar, watching in horror as the demons corner her. She tries to run, but one of them grabs her, its claws sinking into her flesh. Her screams pierce the air, raw and desperate, as they drag her to the ground. The second demon is on her in an instant, its hands tearing at her clothes, its twisted laughter echoing through the stone halls.

My eyes can’t pull away from the horror in front of me, even as one of the demons thrusts into her, using her body like she’s nothing more than a vessel for its own twisted pleasure. Her screams rip through the air, raw and desperate, as she cries out for Fleur. I glance at the woman beside me, her face pale, her lips trembling.

“Fleur?” I ask, my voice low and cutting.

She nods, her wide eyes full of panic, her body shaking. She’s too terrified to move, too weak to act.

“If you expect her to help you, then maybe you should go help her,” I snap, my voice laced with disdain.

Fleur stifles a sob, covering her mouth with trembling hands. It’s pathetic. They’re all pathetic. They expect someone else to fight for them, to save them, but when the time comes to act, they crumble.

“You’re all weak,” I growl, shoving her away from me. “You expect others to fight for you, but you won’t fight for anyone else.”

My gaze flickers back to the woman being brutalized by the demons. The first one releases her, letting her crawl pathetically across the ground, only for another to grab her and mount her again. Her cries are drowned out by their sick laughter. I turn away, pushing myself against the wall, inching as far from them as I can. I can’t stay here. I can’t be next.

Fleur presses herself against me, her trembling body clinging to mine.

“No!” I hiss, pushing her off.

“Please, don’t leave me!” she begs, her voice thick with fear.

I sneer at her desperation. “I’m not saving you, Fleur. Not after everything. You would’ve killed me if you had the chance, and we both know it.”

I move forward again, trying to ignore her pleading, trying to push down the anger that simmers inside me. She’s a liability. She’s dragging me down. I should leave her here for them, throw her to the demons like the useless, pathetic woman she is.

I dart across the open space, finding another place to hide, but of course, Fleur follows, her footsteps quick and frantic behind me. She’s like a leech, clinging to whatever shred of hope she can find, even if it’s me.

Just as I consider leaving her to her fate, a figure appears in the shadows behind us, Vorathiel. I recognize him instantly. He was one of the demons who came to me, one of those who had shown interest in claiming me. Fleur’s face lights up when she sees him, a pitiful smile of hope crossing her lips. She’s convinced he’s here for her, that he’ll save her.

I know better.

I run.

Fleur calls his name, her voice full of desperate hope, but I keep moving, my heart pounding in my chest. I glance back just in time to see her screaming for him, but Vorathiel barely spares her a glance. He walks after me, his focus fixed solely on me. Fleur’s voice rises in panic as the demons pounce on her, tearing at her body, but Vorathiel keeps coming, undeterred. She screams louder, calling his name, but he doesn’t turn back. He’s abandoned her, left her to the other monsters so he can pursue me.

Shit.

I bolt, fear surging through my veins as I realize I have no idea where Zyraxiel is. He promised me no demons would get close, but here I am, being hunted, and he’s nowhere to be found. Vorathiel’s footsteps echo behind me, deliberate and steady, like he knows I have nowhere to go.

I keep running, the maze twisting and turning, but no matter how fast I move, I can feel him getting closer.

28 Too Many

Zyraxiel POV

The air in the pits is thick with tension, the kind of electric charge that signals the calm before a brutal storm. I stand at the entrance, my body coiled, ready to unleash the fury of centuries of violence. This battle will be harder than any before, but I can’t fail. Haisley is waiting, and she’s mine.

The signal blasts through the air, a deep, resonating horn that shakes the ground beneath my feet. Without hesitation, I surge forward, muscles straining as I sprint into the chaos. But I’m not even three steps in when something collides with me, knocking me back. A demon, its eyes glowing red with hunger and malice, claws scraping against my skin.

I snarl and throw it off me, slamming it into the ground with a sickening crack. Before it can recover, I’m on top of it, driving my fist through its skull, feeling the bone shatter beneath the force of my blow. But there’s no time to savor the kill. Another demon is already lunging at me from behind, its jagged teeth bared, claws aiming for my throat.

I twist at the last second, dodging its attack, and bring my knee up into its ribs with enough force to send it flying back. It lands hard, but before I can move, two more demons descend on me, their grotesque forms writhing with darkness. One latches onto my arm, its claws digging into my flesh, the other goes for my leg, trying to drag me down.

With a roar of fury, I rip the first one off and hurl it into the second. They crash into each other, their snarls and growls blending into a chaotic symphony of rage. I leap forward, slashing at one with my claws, tearing through its throat, black blood spraying across the ground. The second demon tries to scramble away, but I stomp down on its back, crushing its spine with a sickening crunch.

The air is filled with the sounds of battle, snarls, roars, the clash of metal, and the wet sound of flesh being torn apart. I fight through it all, cutting down demon after demon, but they just keep coming. Every time I kill one, two more take its place, their twisted bodies surging toward me like an endless wave.

It’s taking far longer than it should.

Every time I think I’ve cleared a path, another swarm of demons surrounds me, each one more desperate, more vicious than the last. They want her. They all want Haisley, and the thought of any of them even touching her sends a blinding rage through me.

One demon with jagged horns and scales like iron lunges at me from the side. I spin and drive my claws deep into its chest, ripping out its heart in one brutal motion. It stumbles back, black blood gushing from the wound, but even as it falls, another demon appears, slamming into my side with the force of a boulder.

I crash to the ground, the demon on top of me, its serrated claws aiming for my neck. I manage to grab its wrists just before it plunges them into my throat, and with a snarl, I twist its arms back, snapping them like twigs. Its scream is cut off as I shove my knee into its chest, launching it off me, but as soon as I stand, three more demons are already closing in.

It’s like an endless tide. No matter how many I kill, more keep coming, their grotesque forms shifting and writhing in the shadows. The scent of blood and death fills the air, a heavy, metallic tang that clings to everything. My body is covered in cuts and gashes, but I push through the pain, driven by the single thought of getting to her.

After what feels like an eternity of battling through hordes, I finally reach the center, but what I see makes my blood run cold.

There are far more demons here than there should be. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, their eyes glowing with hunger and lust. They’ve all come for her. For my Haisley.

I snarl, cutting through the nearest demon, my claws slashing through its neck, but before its body even hits the ground, two more take its place. I rip them apart, but for every one I kill, another two appear, their twisted faces grinning with sick delight.

It’s impossible. There shouldn’t be this many.

I slam my fist into another demon’s face, feeling its skull cave under the force, but as its body crumples, I realize that this isn’t just a battle anymore. This is a war. An endless wave of demons, all converging on me, all desperate to get to Haisley.

And no matter how many I kill, they just keep coming.

Every time I glance toward the horizon, I can see the portal, the place where she waits. But it’s so far. Too far. And the demons between me and her are unrelenting, their attacks growing more vicious with every step I take.

I snarl, the rage boiling inside me, my claws drenched in blood. “None of you will have her,” I growl, driving my fist into another demon’s chest, ripping it apart from the inside.

But as more demons swarm around me, their snarls filling the air, I realize that this fight isn’t just about getting to her anymore.

This is about making sure none of them live to see another day.

A scream pierces the battlefield, sharp and unmistakable. Haisley. My blood runs cold as her voice rises again, calling out in terror. Panic surges through me, my body reacting on instinct as I shove through the thick crowd of demons, each step a desperate attempt to reach her.

There, through the chaos, I see her. She’s running toward me, blood staining her skin, fresh cuts marking her body. Her eyes are wide, frantic. But before she can close the distance, a long, crimson arm lashes out from the darkness. Vorathiel.

I roar, rage boiling in my chest as I fight harder, plowing through the demons that block my path. Haisley kicks and thrashes against his grip, trying to free herself. Her body wrenches free for a moment, but she stumbles into the heart of the battlefield, straight into the chaos.

Panic claws at me as I see her running deeper into danger. I have to get to her. I can’t lose her.

I charge forward, shoving demons aside, my muscles burning with the effort. Her scream cuts through the air again, driving me on. I finally reach her, my hands grabbing her trembling form and pulling her close. She screams again, struggling in my arms as I lift her and wrap her body around mine.

“We need to go!” I growl, my voice thick with urgency. But every path I take is blocked, more demons closing in, their eyes hungry. There’s only one way to end this, to claim her fully, to take what’s mine before they can. I know she won’t agree, not like this, not in the middle of the battle. But if I don’t act now, they’ll take her, claim her without hesitation, and I can’t let that happen.

I push forward, tearing her clothes from her body in one swift motion. She screams, fighting against me with every ounce of strength she has left, her hands beating against my chest, her body trying to twist free. But I can’t wait anymore.

“Forgive me,” I whisper, though she can’t hear me over her cries.

Vorathiel’s shadow looms closer, and just as he leaps at me, his hand seizing my leg.

Amid the chaos, the scent of blood and smoke fills the air, and the battlefield churns around us as I grip Haisley tighter against me. Her screams tear through the roar of battle, her body writhing in desperation, but I hold on, pushing forward. Every breath I take is laced with the acrid tang of sulfur, the weight of Vorathiel’s demons crushing in on every side.

Her skin feels cold under my touch, marred with fresh cuts from her frantic escape. My heart pounds as I feel Vorathiel’s grip on my leg getting stronger, his nails like daggers digging deep. I stumble, but there’s no more time. Haisley’s resistance only spurs the demons on, their hissing voices filling the air as they press closer, sensing the weakness, the vulnerability.

She lets out a wail of defiance, thrashing against me as I force her closer. Her cries tear at me, but this is the only way. The demons are circling, their jagged claws scraping at my skin, tearing at my focus. I can’t let them have her. I can’t let them take her soul.

In one brutal motion, I thrust into her, feeling her body tense and resist as she tries to pull away. Her screams mingle with the snarling growls of the demons surrounding us. Each cry echoes in my chest, but I know, I know I can’t stop. The bond must be sealed, the claim must be made, or she will be lost to them forever. My grip tightens as I push through her resistance, pushing deeper, feeling the very essence of her soul start to tremble within.

The demons claw at us, trying to pry her from my grasp, their foul breath hot against my neck. Vorathiel’s hand squeezes my leg, sending shocks of pain through me, but I don’t falter. My body shakes as I drive forward, my voice ragged as I fight to claim what’s mine.

I can feel it, her soul, fragile, flickering like a flame about to be snuffed out. But I latch onto it, pulling it towards me, drawing it into myself, feeling the warmth of her life force beginning to fuse with mine. The agony on her face, the struggle in her eyes, twists inside me, but I push forward. Her soul fights me, her body recoils, but I keep pulling, dragging every part of her into the claim.

A surge of power explodes through me as I take the final piece of her. The sensation is electric, her essence mixing with mine in a torrent of energy that drowns out everything around us. The demons claw and hiss, but they’re too late. She’s mine. Every last part of her belongs to me now.

I throw my head back and roar, the sound primal, echoing through the battlefield.

“Mine!”

The demons freeze, their claws faltering as they slink back, recoiling from the power radiating from the claim. Vorathiel releases his grip, his eyes narrowing as he realizes he’s lost. The battlefield stills for a brief moment as the demons pull away, their snarls turning into whispers as they retreat, knowing they cannot challenge a soul claimed so fully.

Haisley’s body lies limp in my arms, her breath ragged, her fight gone. Her soul is mine now, bound to me for eternity. The battlefield fades into the background, leaving only the two of us, the bond between us searing into existence, unbreakable.

29 Resting

Zyraxiel

I carry Haisley’s nearly lifeless body back to my room, the weight of her slumped against my chest. She forced my hand, but I know it was the only option. It was either I claim her without her consent, or they would have torn her apart, fighting over her, claiming her in ways far worse than anything I’ve done. She’ll understand, eventually. She’ll forgive me. She has to.

As I step into my chamber, the door closes behind me with a low groan, sealing us away from the chaos. The sound of the battle still echoes in the back of my mind, but now it’s distant. Now, there’s only her, my Haisley.

The connection between us hums with a new intensity. Our souls are intertwined, bound together in a way that I’ve never experienced before. Her emotions, her thoughts, they ripple through me. I can feel the exhaustion, the pain from her wounds, deep gashes and bruises that haven’t yet begun to heal. It’s as if the physical damage she’s endured now mirrors within me, but only faintly.

She’s hurting, and I feel it all.

My own pain is there too, clawing at the edges of our connection, threatening to spill over into her consciousness. But I lock it down, keeping the floodgates shut. I can’t allow her to feel my agony, not yet. It would be too much for her, a torture she doesn’t deserve.

Her pain alone is already more than enough.

I lay her down gently on the bed, her body limp, her breaths shallow. Every instinct within me screams to heal her, to pull her pain into myself, but I can’t. Not yet. She needs rest before anything else.

As I kneel beside her, I place my hand over her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath my palm. The bond between us pulses, stronger now, an unbreakable tie that binds us for eternity. I can feel the depth of her soul, the darkness within her that drew me to her from the start. But now, it’s mixed with confusion, fear, and a raw ache that twists in her gut.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to block out the worst of it. If I open myself too much, if I allow her to sense me, the endless pain, the centuries of torment that have shaped me, it would destroy her. No human could endure what I’ve been through.

She shifts slightly in her sleep, a low whimper escaping her lips, and the surge of her distress washes over me again. I soothe it as best I can, sending a wave of calm through the bond. It’s still new, fragile, but it responds to my will. Slowly, her breathing steadies, the tension easing from her body as she sinks deeper into sleep.

But I know when she wakes, there will be questions. There will be anger.

I’ve claimed her now. Our souls are forever linked. She will feel my presence with her at all times, and I will always know her thoughts, her desires, her fears. The intimacy of it is unlike anything I’ve ever known, but it comes with a cost.

I can feel her wounds, her exhaustion. Her emotions bleed into me like a slow poison, seeping through the cracks in my defenses. But she doesn’t feel mine. I make sure of that. She won’t suffer from the centuries of torment that weigh on my soul, the endless war inside me.

That would be a cruelty she doesn’t deserve.

For now, I’ll let her rest. I’ll keep her safe. And when she wakes, I’ll be there to explain everything.

Even if she hates me for it.

Silence wraps around the room, broken only by the faint sound of Haisley’s breathing as she stirs slightly, her body healing itself. That’s one of the few advantages now that our souls are linked. My ability to heal has passed to her. The wounds she sustained will mend faster, the pain easing without effort. Yet, she needs more time, more rest, and I’m not ready for the questions or hate she’ll unleash once she wakes.

I focus on her mind, sending a ripple of sleep through her consciousness, pulling her back into the depths of slumber. She can’t wake yet, not until I’m ready. I need to prepare for the inevitable, her fury at what I’ve done.

The battle had been worse than I anticipated. Yes, I control the game, but I couldn’t change the rules just for my own victory. That would have sparked an all-out war. But what I hadn’t expected was the sheer number of demons. Vorathiel had sent his minions to distract me, to wear me down while he got to her. And it had nearly worked.

I curse silently, knowing that if she hadn’t run, if she’d hesitated even a second longer, he would have claimed her. The thought fills me with a rage so potent I can taste it. Part of me wants to scold her, to tell her she should have stayed still, but another part knows the truth, if she hadn’t run, Vorathiel would have her soul now, and I… I wouldn’t have given up. I would’ve killed him for it, even knowing that killing him would have severed her soul too.

The idea of watching her belong to another demon, seeing her claimed and tormented by someone else, is unbearable. I would rather see her dead than in the hands of Vorathiel.

I pull her body closer to mine, wrapping the sheet over her to shield her from the cold. Now that our souls are bound, she’ll adjust to the temperature in time, but for now, the sheets are necessary. I’ve never needed them before, never cared for warmth or comfort, but for her, I made an exception. I’ve heard whispers of how Ashurith built an entire palace for his chosen human, which was Haisley, filling it with luxuries to tempt her into choosing him. Vorathiel’s army had prevented him from claiming her too, but Ashurith’s desperation was clear. They all wanted her, but I had her now.

My fingers trace her skin gently, and I close my eyes, letting myself slip into her mind. I want to see what she’s dreaming, to feel the depths of her emotions while she sleeps. I’ve never had the urge to do this before, not with anyone else I’ve claimed. But with Haisley… I want to test every part of our connection.

As I drift deeper into her subconscious, the world around me shifts, and I find myself in her dream.

She’s standing in a room, dark and vast, the walls lined with mirrors. Each reflection shows a different version of her, one crying, one laughing, another standing with bloodstained hands. The air is thick with tension, a weight pressing down on everything. Haisley moves cautiously, her eyes darting from mirror to mirror as the reflections flicker, changing before she can fully process them.

Suddenly, one mirror cracks. The sound echoes through the room, sharp and shattering. She turns to face it, and in the broken glass, she sees herselfnot the scared, trembling version from before, but the darker side. Her reflection smiles, cruel and knowing, and steps forward, as if trying to pull her in.

Haisley backs away, panic flashing in her eyes. The darkness in the room deepens, the shadows creeping closer, swallowing the light. Her breathing quickens, fear gripping her tightly, but she doesn’t scream. She doesn’t run. She stands her ground, staring into the fractured reflection of herself as the world around her distorts.

I watch silently, fascinated by the raw power of her fear and the strength she finds in facing it. There’s something twisted yet beautiful in the way she confronts her demons, both literal and metaphorical. But then, her mind begins to stir. The dream flickers, fading at the edges, and I feel her consciousness rising.

She’s waking.

With a final glance at the shattered mirror, I pull myself back from her mind, returning to my own body as she begins to move beside me.

30 Claimed

Haisley POV

I wake slowly, my body feeling numb but not sore, not in pain. The last thing I remember was Zyraxiel tearing my clothes away as he ran through the battlefield, then the way he thrust into me, claiming me with an urgency that felt both terrifying and raw. After that, everything became a blur of coldness, something unnatural and dark sinking into me, as if the very essence of evil had wrapped itself around my soul.

The moment he claimed me… I still feel it.

It was like my insides were being ripped apart, torn open as he took something from deep within me and fused it with his own. My soul was no longer just mine. There was this overwhelming flood of darkness, a wave of power crashing over me, suffocating and burning at the same time. It wasn’t like a physical pain, but something deeper, soul pain, as if my very essence was being branded.

There was an emptiness that came with it too, a hollow pit that seemed to devour everything I was, everything I thought I knew about myself. And then, just as quickly, it was filled again, not with me, but with him. Zyraxiel. His presence wrapped itself around the hollow space, filling it with his darkness, his strength, his power.

I feel… different now. Still me, but also… stronger.

There’s this dark pulse that hums beneath my skin, a constant thrum of energy that wasn’t there before. My senses feel sharper, my mind clearer, like I’ve been woken up from a fog that’s hung over me my entire life. There’s a weightlessness to my body, as if the fear, the weakness I once felt, has melted away. Replaced by something deeper. Something darker.

I sigh softly, opening my eyes, knowing without even looking that I’m pressed tightly against Zyraxiel’s body. His warmth is comforting, but my mind is a whirlwind of anger and confusion.

Part of me wants to scream at him, to push him away, to shout because he claimed me without waiting for my approval. I told him I wasn’t ready. I wanted more time. But he took that choice from me when he felt the threat closing in.

And yet… another part of me blames myself.

I was foolish, wasn’t I? If I had just asked him to claim me sooner, could he have done it before the final battle? Before it became this desperate scramble to save me from the other demons? I remember hearing him whisper something, forgive me or sorry, I’m not sure anymore. It was all a blur. But now, I understand that he did what he had to do. He saved me.

Still, that doesn’t stop the anger from boiling inside me. I had assumed that once he reached me, once he found me in that final maze, it would be over. I thought the battle ended with his arrival. But no, they could keep fighting, keep coming for me until he fully claimed me. Until my soul belonged to him.

And now it does.

I hate that I was so naïve.

I’m angry at him for not waiting, but more than that, I’m angry at myself for thinking I could delay the inevitable. For thinking that I could avoid being claimed and still survive.

I shift slightly against him, the warmth of his body anchoring me, but I know we need to talk. The final game may be over, but there’s still so much left unsaid.

“You didn’t tell me,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly. Zyraxiel doesn’t respond, not right away. The silence between us is thick, heavy, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant.

“I didn’t want you to fear it. Fear would have crippled you. You would have fought everything from the start. I needed you to want to find me, not be running from me.”

I pull back slightly and stare at him, trying to understand. Why would I have run from him? He was the only thing I had to hold onto in that chaos. But now, in this strange moment of reflection, his words echo in my mind, twisting my thoughts.

“Just shh… get used to how you feel,” he whispers, pulling me closer. His warmth surrounds me, but it feels different now, more intimate, more powerful. “Actually, reflect back on moments of your life,” he adds, almost as if he’s commanding my mind to shift.

And it does.

As if on cue, memories resurface, moments I wouldn’t normally revisit. My mind drifts back to the first time I stripped in that dingy club. The lights were blinding, and I could feel every pair of eyes burning into my skin, judging, consuming. I remember the way I swallowed my pride, pushing down the disgust I felt for myself, all for the sake of survival. The shame, the numbness, it settled into my bones, like a sickness I couldn’t shake.

Then, my mind shifts to the street corners where I sold my body from a young age, doing whatever it took to make ends meet. I can still feel the cold air biting at my skin, the harsh stares of passing strangers, the way my own self-loathing grew with every transaction. Each time I gave a part of myself away, I could feel something inside me shrivel up, dying a little more. The pleasure I denied myself was a twisted form of punishment, as if I didn’t deserve to feel anything but disgust.

I used to punish myself in other ways too. If I messed up, if I failed at something, I’d deny myself food. I wouldn’t take a day off work for weeks, convincing myself that I needed to suffer, that I had to keep moving, keep struggling, or I’d drown in the weight of my own failures. That part of me never really went away. It lingered, always punishing, always reminding me that I wasn’t enough.

My mind races through more memories, the nights out with the few close friends I had. Those rare moments of escape when I allowed myself to feel a little joy, only to be consumed by the constant feeling that I wasn’t enough. That no matter how much I laughed or smiled, there was always a darkness in the back of my mind telling me I didn’t belong. I wasn’t worthy of real happiness.

There were moments of fleeting connections with people, shallow and hollow. Nights when I’d lie awake, wondering why I felt so empty, so unseen. I punished myself then, too, mentally berating myself for every wrong step, every missed opportunity, every failure to be what others expected of me.

Even now, with Zyraxiel holding me, those feelings linger. The idea that I’m still not enough, that I don’t deserve this power, this connection.

My mind continues to spin, dragging me through the darker parts of my life, the abusive relationships, the people who used me and discarded me like I was nothing. The way I let them, because deep down, I believed it was what I deserved.

“Why are you making me remember this?” I ask quietly, my voice cracking.

“Because you need to understand,” Zyraxiel says, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve been fighting yourself for so long, punishing yourself for things that were never your fault. You believed you were worthless, but that darkness inside you, it’s powerful. It’s what drew me to you, what makes you different from the others.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. All those moments of weakness, of shame, of self-hatred… he’s telling me they make me stronger? That the darkness I’ve been running from is actually my power?

“You’re not weak, Haisley,” he continues. “You never were. You just never understood what you were capable of.”

I close my eyes, letting his words sink in, but it’s hard. It’s hard to believe after everything I’ve been through, after everything I’ve done. But there’s a small part of me, a tiny spark that starts to believe him. That maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

And that terrifies me more than anything.

“Also, I wanted to see some of your life,” Zyraxiel murmurs, his voice soft but resonating with intensity. “The things that shaped you. It’s refreshing, to see someone who battles so fiercely, who fights despite everything.” His eyes lock with mine, and I feel a strange pull, something beyond curiosity, an urge to truly know him, like he knows me.

“Can I see some of your memories?” I ask quietly.

His expression shifts. He stills, a shadow crossing his face. “No.”

I laugh, though it’s strained. “No? You just saw and felt my deepest, darkest moments, and you won’t share any of yours with me?”

“They aren’t pleasant,” he says, his voice rougher now, as if dredging up old scars.

I scoff, not backing down. “Right? I don’t care. I want to see it. Even if it’s bad, even if it’s monstrous, I want to see it.”

His eyes bore into mine, a silent battle waging in his mind. Finally, he sighs, a sound heavy with resignation. “You won’t like what you see.”

“I want to know,” I insist. “Show me.”

He leans back slightly, the tension palpable.

“Do you remember anything before this life? Were you human before you became a demon?”

His lips twitch, almost like a grim smile, but there’s no humor there. “I wouldn’t say I was human.”

My brow furrows. “Then what were you?” My voice is softer now, more curious. If he wasn’t human, what was he before becoming this demon?

“A monster,” he says quietly, the weight of his words pressing down on both of us.

A chill runs down my spine. So, he was something terrible even before his transformation into a demon. My mind races, trying to piece it together. Was he human, once? A man who did something so unforgivable that it turned him into this?

“You did something bad, didn’t you?” I ask, more to myself than to him, but he doesn’t answer. “I want to see that too,” I say, meeting his eyes again. “Show me.”

His eyes widen, as if he didn’t expect my determination. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for, Haisley.”

“I do,” I reply, my voice unwavering. “I need to see it. Tell me, how do I do it?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching mine for any sign of doubt. When he finds none, he sighs again. “Focus on me,” he instructs, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “On the bond between us. On your soul. That connection will link our minds.”

With a slow nod, I close my eyes, letting my focus drift inward. I can feel it, the connection between us, a thread that ties us together, invisible but strong. I reach out with my mind, searching for him, for his memories, for his darkness.

And then, like being pulled underwater, I’m dragged into his past.

---

The scene forms slowly. I’m standing on the edge of a battlefield, though the landscape looks like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s scorched, blackened, with twisted trees that look like they’ve been clawing their way out of hell. The air is thick with smoke and the stench of death. My chest tightens, and I know instinctively that this is where Zyraxiel lived before he became what he is now.

There, in the center, I see him, or rather, the man he used to be. He’s tall, powerfully built, and covered in the blood of both men and women. His eyes are dark, soulless, even then. There’s no mercy in his gaze, no hesitation in his movements. He moves through the battlefield like a god of death, slaughtering anyone who gets in his way. I watch as he cuts down a young boy, no older than fourteen, with the same ease as if he were swatting away a fly.

There’s no remorse. No flicker of hesitation.

I try to turn away, but I can’t. I’m forced to watch as he moves through the village, no, it’s more than that. He’s enjoying it. Every scream, every drop of blood spilled, seems to fuel him. He revels in the chaos, the violence, the destruction. I feel a cold dread settle in my stomach. This was him? This was the man who would one day become the demon who claimed my soul?

The memory shifts, and I see him standing before a burning village. He’s holding a woman, her throat slashed open, her body limp in his arms. But he isn’t killing her out of necessity or in battle. This is deliberate. Slow. Painful. His lips curl into a twisted smile as he watches the life drain from her eyes, savoring every second of it.

I want to scream, to stop him, but I can’t. I’m just an observer. Trapped in his nightmare.

The ground beneath me begins to shake, and the memory shifts again. This time, I see Zyraxiel standing before something dark, something ancient. A towering black figure looms over him, with horns like jagged spikes and eyes burning with an unholy light. The figure reaches out, touching Zyraxiel’s chest, and I feel the heat, the agony that must have coursed through his veins.

This was his turning point. This was when the monster inside him became something more, something darker than human evil. The man he used to be died in that moment, and something else, something demonic, took his place.

The memories shift again, and now I see his years as a demon. He’s in the underworld, surrounded by other demons, each of them twisted, monstrous, and powerful in their own right. Zyraxiel stands among them like a king, commanding them with the same ruthless authority he had as a human. But his eyes, those once soulless human eyes, are now burning red, filled with an insatiable hunger for more power.

I watch as he tortures souls in hell. This isn’t the battlefield anymore. This is worse. He revels in the torment, in their screams. It’s not just about pain, it’s about control. He wants to own them, to break them, to bend them to his will. I see him dragging souls from the pits of hell, twisting them into something dark and evil, laughing as they beg for mercy.

But there’s no mercy here. There’s no compassion. Only dominance. Only power.

The memory shifts again, and I see him standing before a council of demons. They speak of the games, of claiming souls like mine. Zyraxiel is at the center of it all, ruthless in his pursuit of the strongest, darkest souls. He’s a legend among them, feared and respected in equal measure. The more souls he claims, the more powerful he becomes, but there’s something deeper behind it, a void he’s trying to fill.

Even in his darkest moments, there’s something missing. Something he can’t quite grasp.

---

I’m jolted back to the present, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I blink, trying to process what I’ve just seen, what I’ve just felt. Zyraxiel’s past… it’s darker than anything I could have imagined. But now, lying here with him, feeling the weight of his gaze on me, I can’t help but wonder… is there more to him? Was there ever a glimmer of humanity left in him, or has he always been this monster?

“Now you know,” he says quietly, his voice breaking through the silence. “This is what I am. This is what I’ve always been.”

I look at him, my mind reeling from the horror I’ve witnessed, but I don’t flinch. I don’t turn away.

“I wanted to know,” I whisper. “I had to see it.”

“And now that you have, do you still want to stay?” His voice is low, almost vulnerable, like he’s waiting for me to walk away. To run.

But I don’t.

Instead, I reach for him, my fingers brushing against his skin, feeling the darkness pulsing beneath it. Because now, after everything, I understand. We’re not so different after all.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, my voice steady, my resolve firm. “I’m yours.”