Lucien had thought losing her to the Devil would be the worst pain of his life.
He was wrong.
Because this was worse.
This was seeing her alive — close enough to touch — yet looking at him like a name she once overheard but could not place.
They walked side by side through the cathedral's inner halls, but it was not like before.
No fingers brushing.
No glances exchanged.
No quiet, aching pull between them.
Isadora kept her hand near the hilt of her sword, her eyes scanning the shadows.
He might as well have been her hired guard.
---
In the silence, he tried anyway.
> "You're holding it wrong," he said softly, nodding toward her grip on the blade.
She blinked at him.
> "And why should I trust your advice?"
The words were calm, almost polite — but the edge was sharper than any steel.
Lucien swallowed.
> "Because I've fought beside you before."
Her brow furrowed, faintly.
> "When?"
He opened his mouth — and froze.
Because the memories were gone from her, but not from him.
And explaining them felt like telling a ghost about their own life.
> "Never mind," he murmured.
---
They reached the south transept — a vast, open expanse of cracked marble lit by the bleeding moon. In the center stood a black stone fountain, dry for centuries… until tonight.
It was running.
The water was red.
And standing by it — the Devil.
---
He was dressed not in his robes, but in something almost human.
A simple black coat.
An open white shirt.
A smile that could set whole cities burning.
> "You found her for me, Lucien," he said, voice rich with mock gratitude.
"And you even brought her back. You've done well."
Lucien's hand went to his own blade.
> "She's not yours."
The Devil's eyes softened — mock pity.
> "She doesn't even remember you."
He turned to Isadora.
> "Does he, in any way, stir your blood, my bride?"
Her eyes narrowed.
> "I am no one's bride."
The Devil chuckled, low and pleased.
> "Oh, you are. You simply don't recall the ceremony."
---
Lucien stepped between them.
> "Don't listen to him."
The Devil's smile widened.
> "She listens only to herself now. And that, dear Lucien, is my greatest gift to her."
He began walking a slow circle around them, voice curling through the air like smoke.
> "You see, she's free of the weight of loving you. Free of the burden of choosing you. Free to become the fire she was always meant to be."
He leaned close to Isadora's ear.
> "And you, my darling, are free to love me instead."
---
Isadora did not step back.
She studied him, calm, assessing — as though she were weighing the truth of his words.
Lucien's chest tightened.
> "If I wanted to love you," she said at last,
"I would need to know why you think you deserve it."
The Devil's eyes glittered.
> "Because no one else can give you what I can — a throne, a crown, and the world itself burning at your feet."
Lucien's voice was a growl.
> "And all she'd have to give up is her soul."
---
The Devil's smile turned cruel.
> "Some of us would call that a fair trade."
He extended his hand to Isadora.
The fountain water behind him rippled — its surface writhing with faces that screamed soundlessly.
Lucien reached for her arm.
> "Don't."
Her gaze shifted between them.
One man who felt like an echo.
One man who felt like a promise of power.
---
Then she did something neither of them expected.
She stepped past them both and walked to the fountain.
The water's red surface rippled as she looked down into it — and she saw herself there, not as she was, but as she had been before the Midwife's touch.
Eyes alive.
Mouth curved in a secret smile.
Lucien's arm around her waist.
She touched the surface — and it shattered into ripples.
The vision was gone.
---
> "Whatever I was before," she said without looking at either man,
"is gone. But I am not yours. Either of you."
She turned, sword in hand, and walked away into the darkness.
---
The Devil's smile faltered.
Lucien felt something stir — faint, but there.
A crack in the emptiness the Midwife had left.
---
> "You're losing her," the Devil murmured to him.
Lucien's grip on his blade tightened.
> "Not yet."
---
Far ahead, Isadora did not look back.
But for the first time since she had forgotten him…
her hand brushed the spot where his hand had once fit.
And something in her chest hurt — though she did not yet know why.
End of Chapter Nineteen.