The cold that morning wasn't just from the biting wind outside—it was something deeper, an icy grip tightening around Aurora's heart. The ritual to rewrite the bargain had given Elias a fragile freedom, but the cost was far from paid. She could see it in his eyes: the flicker of something dark, restless, clawing beneath his skin.
Aurora sat beside Elias on the worn wooden bench in the garden, the early sun filtering through skeletal branches. He looked at her, voice barely a whisper, "I can feel it inside me, Aurora—the demon isn't gone. It's waiting, pushing."
She took his hand, warmth in her cold fingers. "We'll find a way. We have to."
But even as she spoke, a shadow slipped past the edge of her vision. A flicker of black smoke curling like a snake's tongue. She blinked, and it was gone.
Days passed with a mounting dread that seeped into every moment. Elias grew quieter, more distant, as if a war raged within him. His moments of lucidity clashed with sudden surges of anger or cold indifference. Aurora feared she was losing the man she loved to a darkness beyond understanding.
One night, as a storm raged outside, lightning fracturing the sky, Elias sat in their small living room, staring blankly at the flickering candlelight.
"Aurora," he said suddenly, voice uneven. "I saw him again… Kaelen."
The name hit her like a blow.
"What did he say?"
Elias's eyes darkened. "He told me to give up—that fighting only made the pain worse. That the darkness inside me was part of who I am now."
"No," she whispered fiercely. "You're not his puppet. You're stronger."
But Elias shook his head.
"I'm scared, Aurora. What if the demon wins?"
That night, Aurora couldn't sleep. The house felt heavier, alive with whispers only she seemed to hear. She lit every candle, lit sage, sprinkled salt by every door.
Still, the darkness crept in.
As the clock struck midnight, she heard it—a low, guttural growl from Elias's bedroom.
She rushed inside to find him convulsing, eyes wild and black as coal.
"Elias!" she cried, grabbing his hands, trying to anchor him.
He screamed—an otherworldly sound that pierced her soul.
Then, silence.
His eyes snapped open, but they weren't his own.
A voice filled the room, cold and mocking.
"You cannot escape me, little Aurora."
She staggered back, heart pounding.
The demon's presence was inside Elias, coiled like a viper.
But something in Aurora refused to yield.
"Leave him," she demanded, voice steady despite the terror.
Kaelen laughed, a sound like shattering glass.
"You made a bargain, girl. His soul belongs to me."
"Not anymore," Aurora said, stepping forward.
The battle for Elias's soul was not fought with swords but with wills, a clash of light and shadow inside the fragile prison of his body.
Aurora reached out, remembering the rituals, the ancient words of binding and release.
Her voice trembled but grew stronger:
"In nomine lucis, libera animam."
In the name of light, free the soul.
The demon hissed, recoiling.
Elias moaned, struggling for control.
Aurora's love was the tether, the fragile thread pulling him back from the abyss.
Hours passed, a war of wills that left Aurora drained but victorious.
As dawn broke, Elias collapsed into her arms, human again, but shaken.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so scared."
"You're not alone," she promised, kissing his forehead.
But deep inside, Aurora knew the battle was only beginning.
Kaelen's shadow lingered—waiting for the next chance.
That day, Lucien arrived with grim news.
"The demon prince won't give up. He's growing stronger because of you both."
Aurora's heart tightened. "What can we do?"
Lucien's eyes were hard. "We prepare. The underworld isn't just a place—it's a warzone."
Aurora swallowed her fear.
For love. For Elias. For the darkest hour ahead.