Midnight painted the sky in ink. The air was still, yet inside the manor, the walls pulsed like living skin.
Seraphine stood naked before the mirror, the mourning veil in her trembling hands. The ritual demanded vulnerability. Exposure. She had scrubbed her body raw in the bath, as instructed—cleansing herself of the past, yet every inch of her still felt touched by ghosts.
The veil was soft. Too soft. As if it had been freshly spun from breath and bone.
She draped it over her head.
The moment it touched her skin, the air hissed.
Whispers crawled beneath her ears.
Widow. Whore. Vessel.
She stepped into the hallway where Elias waited, wearing a robe of black silk, chest bare, eyes glinting with fire and hunger.
He offered his hand.
She took it.
They walked together down the hall of ancestors, past oil paintings that wept dark streaks across canvas. The house was watching. The house remembered.
The altar room had changed.
The circle had been redrawn—now wider, lined with iron dust, black roses, and human teeth.
The bed had replaced the altar.
The same bed Augustus died in.
Seraphine froze.
Elias whispered, "To seal the spirit, the body must surrender where it once denied."
He took her hand and led her into the circle. The air was thick with incense—burning ash, clove, and something far older. She could feel her pulse in her throat.
She lay down.
The veil remained over her face.
Elias climbed over her, straddling her hips, mouth hovering above her belly.
He spoke the invocation in a language she didn't recognize. Ancient. Wet-sounding. It made her chest ache and her vision blur.
As his voice deepened, the candles around the room flared one by one.
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside, the room grew cold.
The floorboards groaned.
Then—
She felt it.
Another presence.
Heavier than Elias. Older than the earth.
It slid beneath her skin like oil.
Her mouth opened, and a whisper escaped—a voice not her own.
"Finish what you began, Elias. She is open."
Elias's body shivered as if struck.
Then he lowered himself, mouth on her neck, fingers tracing her thigh, slipping between her legs. She was already wet—burning, aching.
The veil clung to her face like second skin, and the eyes of the dead looked down from every wall.
"Say it," Elias commanded. "Say his name."
"Augustus," she breathed.
The candles shattered. A wind burst into the room from nowhere.
And Elias thrust into her.
She screamed.
Not in pain.
Not in pleasure.
But in release.
Every muscle inside her locked. Her hips met his with desperation. His rhythm was punishing—like he was exorcising a demon through desire.
"Say it again," he growled, hand around her throat.
She choked, gasped. "A-Augustus!"
The room tilted.
The mirror shattered.
A black figure rose from the floor.
Not Elias.
Not human.
A man-shaped shadow with no face, no eyes—only a mouth stitched shut with rusted wire.
He stepped into the circle.
Elias didn't stop.
If anything, he fucked her harder.
The veil wrapped tighter around her face.
And then the black figure stepped into her.
She convulsed—back arching violently, mouth open in a silent scream.
Inside her, two forces collided: Elias's body, and Augustus's spirit.
They both filled her.
She was consumed.
And then—
She came.
Once.
Twice.
A third time, screaming so hard her throat tore.
The veil turned red, soaked in sweat and blood.
The candles died.
Elias collapsed beside her, panting.
The figure was gone.
Only the circle remained, scorched into the floor.
But Seraphine…
Seraphine was different.
Her eyes opened.
They glowed faintly.
And when she spoke—
It wasn't her voice.
"I've returned."
Elias gasped. "Augustus?"
The woman sat up slowly, veil still clinging to her face, blood staining the sheets.
"Your ritual succeeded," she said. "But not how you hoped."
Elias stood, confused. "What—what do you mean?"
"You bound me, yes. To the veil. To her. But the veil chose… dominance."
Seraphine turned her head.
And smiled.
Not sweetly.
But with menace.
With power.
Elias backed away.
"Seraphine?"
She stood, walking toward him.
Naked.
Bleeding.
Divine.
And the veil wrapped tighter, fusing to her skin.
"I am Seraphine," she said. "I am Augustus. I am grief and lust incarnate."
She placed her hand on Elias's chest.
"You thought I would be broken by the past," she whispered.
Her fingers sank into him.
Elias screamed as blood poured from his mouth.
"But I have become it."
She pressed her lips to his ear as he collapsed.
"You don't fuck the veil, Elias. You wear it. And now it wears me."
She turned to the cracked mirror.
Her reflection was threefold.
Her.
Augustus.
And something… darker.
Behind her, the bed still smoked.
The house sighed.
And Seraphine smiled.