I backed away from the window and pulled my cloak tighter. I needed time. A little more time. Just to be his again, before the truth turned everything to ash.
But deep down, I knew the truth always demanded its due.
And the mark was only the beginning.
I kept walking, further into the quiet corridors of the temple. The soft hum of distant prayers faded behind me, replaced by a deeper silence. One that pressed against my skin like cold fingers.
I'd told myself I just needed air. Space. A moment alone to think. But even alone, the weight didn't lift. It had grown heavier.
The mark burned softly now. Not painful, but insistent—like a heartbeat that didn't belong to me.
I clutched my cloak closer, as if I could hide it. As if the thing branded on my skin didn't run deeper than flesh.
The Whispers of Asix never truly let go. I'd left them. I'd escaped them. And yet… I hadn't.
I paused in a side alcove near an old shrine, a forgotten wing of the temple where the light didn't quite reach. Dust hung in the air. No candles burned here. The silence was absolute.
And then—
"You wear my mark with such uncertainty, child."
The voice was velvet and venom, curling from every shadow around me.
My breath caught.
"Do not fear," it said, soft as a lover's touch. "I am closer now. You called for me… the moment you bargained. The moment you chose blood."
I spun, but the hallway was empty. No footsteps. No breath. Just the weight of presence pressing in from the corners of the dark.
"Asix…" I whispered, throat dry.
"You remember my name. Good. I remember yours, Auralia of the Whispers. I remember the blade you buried in the priest's heart. The prayers you spoke in red."
"No," I said aloud, more to myself than to him. "That's not who I am anymore."
A pause.
Then a low chuckle echoed through the stone.
"You sound like them. The healers. The ones who dress in white and speak of light. But you—you know what silence tastes like after the scream. You remember the altar, girl. You bloomed in it."
I staggered back a step, hand gripping the cold wall.
"You chose me. Even now, you feel me in your blood. That mark upon your chest is not a chain—it's a doorway. I can offer more, if you ask. Power enough to protect him. Strength to carve your own fate, instead of clinging to his."
"I didn't ask for this!" I hissed.
"Didn't you?" The voice coiled around me. "You begged for his life. You would have done anything. And you did. And I answered. I always answer those who bleed for love."
Silence fell again—sharp and final.
My knees trembled. I pressed my palm over the mark.
It didn't just burn. It pulsed.
A gift. A curse. A tether.
And Asix was patient. He would wait. Wait until I am desperate again. Until I needed more.
And part of me… wanted to ask.
"No," I said again—this time aloud, this time like I meant it.
My voice echoed through the empty hallway, hollow and defiant.
The shadows around me seemed to stir, as though Asix was drawing breath to speak again… but I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes.
"No," I whispered more softly. "You don't get to have me."
I pressed a hand over my chest, over the mark that still pulsed faintly with power not my own. I could feel him there—watching, waiting. The god of Blood and Death didn't scream or rage when denied. He merely waited, like a knife in the dark, like a grave with an open lid.
But I would not open the door.
"I made that deal," I murmured. "I'd make it again if it meant saving him. But that doesn't mean I belong to you."
The stillness returned, heavy and cold, but the voice did not.
Not this time.
I exhaled slowly. My heart thundered in my chest, but I hadn't crumbled. Not yet. Not tonight.
I turned back toward the temple halls, retracing my steps in silence.
I wasn't sure what I was anymore. A girl raised in shadows, bearing the mark of a god she swore never to kneel to again. A fighter who only killed when she had no other choice. A friend. A partner. Maybe even something more than that now.
I had chosen love over power. And I'd keep choosing it, no matter how much the mark burned.
He'd be waiting. I knew that.
But I'd be ready.
The flicker of torchlight danced along the sandstone corridor as I paused mid-step, a sound catching my ear — a voice, soft and urgent, echoing faintly from just around the corner.
I held my breath.
Auralia.