Gaius.
They said he died.
But no body was ever found. No trace of the demon who took him. No remains. No farewell.
Just blood on the floor, smoke in the wind, and a silence that would not lift.
Was it truly death?
Or something worse—
Something still breathing.
Still watching.
Still waiting in the shadows.
Tell me, if you dare...
Do you really believe it was just a coincidence?
----------------
Aurelia was pushed into the waiting carriage.
Her wrists still stung from the ropes they'd only just cut away—red, raw, aching. A reminder of how easily a girl could be broken, dressed up, and sent away like meat on a silver plate.
She no longer wore rags. Instead, they'd wrapped her in a gown of deep blue silk, soft enough to make her skin crawl. It whispered with every breath she took, pooling around her like fog, veiling her from throat to toe.
The kind of gown worn by noblewomen who thought themselves gods.
But Aurelia felt like a corpse already laid in state.
An offering.
Wrapped in pain, delivered, and sacrificed to a devil's prince.
There was no door to run through. No alley to vanish into. No one left to beg for mercy.
The life she knew had already been taken—and the one ahead was no life at all.
This was her fate now. And whether death came quickly or slowly... so be it.
She prayed it would come like a blade to the throat. Maybe that would be the last freedom.
Or the only one left.
---
Tenebrarum Mortifer.
The name struck her like a spell each time it echoed through her mind. It meant darkness.
It meant death.
It meant the end of all things.
And he had paid for her with ancient gold and older promises.
The mask on his face.
The way the other demons whispered his name like a curse—as if saying it too loudly might summon something from the pit.
They feared him. Every one of them.
And that fear, thick as smoke, now pressed into her lungs.
What kind of life will I be living?
Is he an abuser? Or something worse?
The carriage rocked forward.
The wheels churned over ancient gravel paths as trees closed in like soldiers in formation.
She didn't look out the window. There was nothing out there worth seeing.
Everything was already gone.
Only trees, silence, and the sound of her breath.
The dress itched—not from coarseness, but from softness. The silk was too smooth, too perfect—too much like a lie.
That was what made her skin crawl. It wanted her to believe this was beautiful.
But she knew better.
They wanted her to look like a bride.
Not like someone who had been bought.
Even if they swaddled her in velvet and silver and pretended this was sacred—she knew what she was:
A possession. A purchased thing.
---
The silence in the carriage thickened as they neared the estate. But outside—the forest stirred.
Shadows flitted between trees. Some too fast to be human. Some too quiet to be beasts.
Guards?
Or something else?
Then—
The gates came into view.
Two towering doors of black iron, twisted with silver patterns that moved when she blinked—patterns that refused to stay still. The gates opened silently. No chain. No creak.
Just air, parting like breath under a blade.
Aurelia's stomach twisted.
Before her rose a mansion carved from pale marble and polished obsidian. Its columns were taller than any cathedral she'd seen. Silver veins ran through the stone, pulsing faintly—with light… or blood.
The path was lined with impossible flowers. Blooms that shimmered silver under moonlight.
Thorns like serpents.
Blossoms that looked like bruises in bloom—violets, lilies, jasmine.
The scent hit her like a memory.
These were the same flowers she once sold in the market. Before she was taken.
Before everything was rewritten.
Demons lined the marble steps like statues—still, expressionless. Their eyes followed her, but their bodies did not stir.
Then she saw him.
Tenebrarum Mortifer.
Standing atop the balcony. Masked. Silent.
Still.
His coat was black—the kind of black that swallowed light. Stitched with gold thread that flickered like fire behind glass.
He didn't speak.
Didn't extend a hand.
Didn't descend the stairs.
He only watched.
His eyes—bare and uncovered—pierced her with a quiet that felt like violence. Not cruel. Not kind.
Just measuring.
---
The carriage door opened.
Aurelia stepped out. Her knees trembled. But she did not fall.
The silk dragged behind her like mist. Her feet touched the marble.
Too cold.
She walked.
One step.
Then another.
Each one louder than it should've been.
Or maybe it was just her heartbeat.
Tenebrarum didn't move.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked through the tall black doors of the mansion.
Of course he expected her to follow.
And she did.
Not because she wanted to—
But because she had no choice.
---
The doors opened by themselves—silent and slow. As if obeying a will that wasn't hers.
They moved like ghosts. Like servants made of air.
Inside, the mansion glowed with golden dimness.
The floor was black stone, so polished it reflected her face as she walked.
Runes spiraled across the walls in gleaming silver—symbols she couldn't read, didn't want to.
Above, chandeliers made not of crystal, but of something paler—bone-white and cold.
Like stars that had died long ago… and refused to stop shining.
The scent—
It wrapped around her again. Clung to her throat like memory.
Lilies.
Jasmine.
Violets.
Always the same flowers.
Her hand curled into a fist.
She would not cry.
Not here.
Not now.
She wouldn't give them that.
---
A woman emerged from the corridor ahead.
Tall, slender. Cloaked in black robes stitched with blood-red thread. Her eyes were sharp as glass, her voice a blade dulled by frost.
"You will follow these rules," she said.
She held out a sealed parchment. The wax glowed faintly red—like it had been stamped with something alive.
"Or you will suffer," she added. "He does not like when someone breaks his words."
The last part came fast—like it wasn't meant to be said aloud.
A shiver slid down Aurelia's spine.
The words weren't human. She knew it.
They were his.
She took the scroll. Her fingers brushed the wax.
She did not bow.
She didn't thank her.
The woman left without a glance.
Aurelia stood alone.
The rules were cold in her hand. Still sealed,heavy, and meaningless to her.
She didn't open them.
Because deep down—she already knew.
Rules will not protect her here.
Only her instincts might.
Her legs trembled. But still—she stood.
Like a girl unshaken.
From the high vaulted chamber behind her, his voice came—
Soft.
Deep.
Cold as a grave.
She turned .
"Julius. Take her to her room."
His words echoed through the space like thunder wrapped in silk.
Even the air flinched.
He even prepared a room for me…
Why?
Her eyes locked on him.
She stared like a soldier entering the battlefield.
To be continued...