The sound the bell made was wrong—not the clear chime Julian expected, but something deeper, resonant, that seemed to vibrate in his bones and echo in spaces that didn't exist in three-dimensional reality. The temperature in the room dropped another few degrees, and Julian's breath misted in the air as the candles flickered despite there being no breeze.
The air itself began to shimmer near the center of the room, like heat waves rising from summer pavement, except this distortion felt cold and ancient. Julian felt the magic building, pressing against his skin with a weight that made his marks burn with recognition. This wasn't like when Valerius had been pulled through dimensions by Julian's desperate call—this was controlled, deliberate, a demon answering a formal summons.
The crows outside went completely silent, their collective attention fixed on the shimmering air. Even Malphas seemed to pause in his assault on the wards, as if curious to see what demon would answer Professor Chen's call.
The shimmer intensified, and then reality folded in on itself with a sound like tearing silk. A figure stepped through the fold as casually as someone walking through a doorway, and the room's atmosphere changed immediately.
Where Valerius was elegant and aristocratic, all dark sophistication and old-world tragedy, this demon was something else entirely. He was tall—taller than Valerius by several inches—with a lean, angular frame that suggested coiled strength rather than bulk. His hair was silver-white and fell past his shoulders in straight, perfect lines that caught the candlelight like strands of metal. But it was his eyes that were most striking: they shifted color continuously, cycling from deep violet to ice-blue to something in between, never quite settling on one shade.
Small black horns curved back from his temples like a crown, elegant and understated compared to Valerius's more prominent ones. His features were sharp and beautiful in a way that was almost severe—high cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips that quirked with what might have been amusement or calculation. He wore modern clothes, all black designer pieces that looked expensive and perfectly tailored, more like he'd stepped out of a fashion magazine than the underworld.
"Elena," the demon said, his voice carrying a faint accent that Julian couldn't quite place—something European but ancient, predating modern national boundaries. "It's been too long. When you rang, I assumed you needed help with research, or perhaps wanted to discuss that grimoire you've been hunting." His color-shifting eyes swept the room, taking in the scene with obvious intelligence. "But this... this is something else entirely."
His gaze lingered on the crows pressed against the windows, and his expression darkened with recognition. Then his attention moved to Valerius, and something that might have been respect flickered across his features. "Valerius. I heard rumors you'd finally escaped your family's binding. Congratulations on your freedom, though it seems you've traded one complication for another."
Finally, his eyes found Julian, then Marcus, and Julian saw the exact moment the demon understood the situation. His expression shifted from casual curiosity to sharp focus, and when he looked at Marcus specifically, Julian noticed the way his gaze lingered—assessing, yes, but with an undertone of something that looked almost like interest.
"Zevrael," Professor Chen said with a respectful nod. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I know you weren't expecting this kind of summons."
"No," Zevrael agreed, still looking at Marcus. "I was not. Though I should have guessed, given the urgency." He moved further into the room with fluid grace, and Julian noticed that unlike Valerius, whose every movement carried the weight of centuries, Zevrael seemed almost ageless—he could have been thirty or three thousand years old. "A protection bond, I presume? Against—" He glanced at the crows again, his lip curling with distaste. "Against Malphas. The Soul Reaper is certainly making his presence felt."
"You know him?" Marcus asked, and his voice was steadier than Julian expected given the circumstances. His roommate had straightened in his chair, squaring his shoulders despite his obvious fear. Meeting the demon's eyes with something that looked like defiance.
Zevrael turned his full attention to Marcus, and Julian saw his roommate's breath catch slightly. Those color-shifting eyes were intense up close, almost hypnotic in the way they changed from moment to moment. "Every demon knows Malphas," Zevrael said, and his voice had softened slightly, lost some of its sardonic edge. "He's been hunting Valerius for six hundred years. The entire supernatural community has been watching that particular drama unfold. And now—" He paused, studying Marcus with unsettling focus. "Now he's expanded his target list to include collateral damage."
"I'm not damage," Marcus said, and there was heat in his voice. "I'm a person who got caught in someone else's mess through no fault of my own."
Something that might have been approval flickered in Zevrael's eyes. "You're right. My apologies. That was dismissive." He moved closer, and Julian noticed Marcus didn't shrink back, though his hands tightened on the arms of his chair. "You're Marcus Chen. Pre-med student. Julian's roommate. Currently being stalked by a Soul Reaper because Malphas wants to use you as leverage against both Julian and Valerius."
"How do you know all that?" Marcus demanded.
"I make it my business to know things," Zevrael said simply. "Especially when Elena calls in a favor. She only does that when the situation is serious." He glanced at Professor Chen. "You want me to form a protection bond with him. To shield him from Malphas's collection."
"If you're willing," Professor Chen confirmed.
"And if I'm willing," Marcus interjected, drawing Zevrael's attention back to him. "This isn't just about whether you agree. I have conditions."
Zevrael's eyebrows rose slightly, and Julian could have sworn he saw amusement in those shifting eyes. "Conditions. How refreshingly assertive." He moved even closer, until he was standing directly in front of Marcus's chair. Marcus had to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact, and Julian noticed the way his roommate's pulse jumped in his throat. "By all means, tell me your conditions. I'm very interested to hear what boundaries a human thinks they can impose on a demon."
There was no mockery in his tone—just genuine curiosity. Marcus swallowed hard but didn't look away. "Before we do anything, I want to talk. Privately. About what this bond actually means and what we both expect from it."
"You want to negotiate," Zevrael said, and now Julian was certain that was approval in his expression. "Most humans in your position would be too terrified or desperate to think about negotiation. They'd accept whatever terms were offered and hope for the best."
"I'm too terrified not to negotiate," Marcus said bluntly. "If I'm going to be tied to you for the rest of my life, I need to know who you are and what you want from me. And you deserve the same from me."
The room was very quiet. Even the crows seemed to have paused their assault on the windows. Zevrael studied Marcus for a long moment, his color-shifting eyes unreadable.
"You're not what I expected," Zevrael said finally, and there was something in his voice that Julian couldn't quite identify. "Elena, do you have somewhere private where Marcus and I can discuss the terms of this bond?"
Professor Chen nodded and gestured to a small study off the living room. "Take all the time you need. The wards will hold."
Zevrael stepped back, giving Marcus space to stand. "After you," he said, and Julian noticed the way his gaze followed Marcus as his roommate walked toward the study, taking in the tense set of his shoulders, the way he moved with forced confidence despite his obvious fear.
Marcus paused at the door, looking back at Julian. "If I'm not back in twenty minutes, assume something went wrong."
"He'll be fine," Zevrael said, amusement clear in his voice now. "I don't harm potential bond partners. It's terribly bad form and makes the magic unstable." He followed Marcus into the study and closed the door behind them, leaving Julian, Valerius, and Professor Chen in tense silence in the living room.
Inside the study, Marcus leaned against Professor Chen's desk, putting distance between himself and the demon. Zevrael moved to the window, looking out at the crows with an expression that Marcus couldn't quite read.
"So," Zevrael said after a long moment of silence, "shall we start with the obvious questions, or would you prefer to work up to them gradually?"
"What's the obvious question?" Marcus asked warily.
Zevrael turned to face him, those color-shifting eyes bright with what might have been amusement. "Are you attracted to men, or is this going to be additionally awkward when the bond starts making you feel things?"
Marcus felt heat flood his face. "That's—that's your opening question?"
"Would you prefer I ask about your childhood? Your hopes and dreams? Your favorite color?" Zevrael's tone was dry, almost sardonic. "We're about to be bound together for the rest of your natural life, possibly longer depending on how the magic works. I'd rather establish the basics before we get into the philosophical complications."
"I'm—" Marcus swallowed hard. "I'm bi. Not that it's any of your business."
"It became my business the moment Elena rang that bell," Zevrael said bluntly. "And for the record, I find humans of all genders equally fascinating and equally frustrating, so that's not a complication on my end." He tilted his head, studying Marcus with unsettling focus. "Though I notice you didn't say you weren't attracted to me specifically. Interesting."
"You're a demon," Marcus said defensively. "With horns. And eyes that change color. And you just appeared out of thin air."
"None of which answers my implicit question," Zevrael pointed out. "But we can table that for now. Next question: are you a virgin?"
"Jesus Christ," Marcus muttered, looking away. "Why does that matter?"
"Because if you are, the bond is going to be significantly more intense for you than for me," Zevrael said, his tone pragmatic rather than judgmental. "Virgins tend to imprint harder, form attachments faster. It's not a moral judgment, it's just magical mechanics."
Marcus was silent for a long moment. "No," he said finally. "Not a virgin. Had a girlfriend freshman year, lasted about three months before she decided pre-med students were too busy to be worth dating."
"Just the one relationship?"
"Are you going to judge me for that too?"
"I'm not judging," Zevrael said, and something in his tone made Marcus look up. The demon's expression was surprisingly gentle. "I'm assessing. There's a difference. The more I know about you, the better I can calibrate how much distance to maintain, what boundaries to prioritize, how to avoid accidentally crossing lines you didn't know you had."
Marcus studied him, trying to reconcile the sardonic demon with the one who was asking careful questions about boundaries. "You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?" Zevrael asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Something more... demonic. Threatening. You're asking questions like a therapist, not like something that crawled out of hell."
"I didn't crawl," Zevrael said with a slight smile. "I stepped. Very dignified. And I've had centuries to learn that asking questions prevents significantly more problems than it creates." He moved away from the window, closer to Marcus but still maintaining respectful distance. "So let's ask another one: are you currently interested in anyone? Dating apps, unrequited crushes, someone you've been working up courage to ask out?"
"No," Marcus said. "Between organic chemistry and anatomy labs, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date."
"Good," Zevrael said. "That makes one less complication."
"Why would that be a complication?"
"Because if you were pining after someone, the bond would eventually make that feeling... complicated. You'd start comparing them to me. Start feeling confused about whether you actually want them or if the bond is redirecting your attention." Zevrael's expression turned serious. "I won't lie to you, Marcus. The bond will mess with your head. It's designed to create attachment, dependency, connection. Having pre-existing romantic feelings would just make that messier."
Marcus felt his stomach sink. "So I just... give up on ever having a normal relationship? Because I'm bonded to you?"
"Not necessarily," Zevrael said carefully. "Some bonded humans do maintain relationships with others. But it's difficult. The bond creates a baseline of emotional intimacy that most human relationships can't compete with. Your future partners would always be competing with someone who literally lives in your head, who knows your emotional state at all times, who you're magically compelled to trust and care about."
"That's horrifying," Marcus said quietly.
"Yes," Zevrael agreed without hesitation. "It is. Which is why I'm being honest about it now rather than letting you discover it gradually. You asked for honesty, Marcus. I'm giving it to you, even when it's ugly."
Marcus sank into one of Professor Chen's reading chairs, suddenly exhausted. "Okay. What else do I need to know? What other ways is this bond going to ruin my life?"
Zevrael was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had lost its sardonic edge entirely. "It might not ruin your life. Some bonds—rare ones, but they exist—actually enhance both parties' lives. They become genuine partnerships, real friendships or more. The humans don't see the bond as a curse but as... an unexpected gift."
"You don't believe that," Marcus said, reading the skepticism in the demon's expression.
"I don't know what to believe," Zevrael admitted. "I've never formed a protection bond before. I've observed them, studied them, but never been part of one. I'm as uncertain about this as you are."
"That's not reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be reassuring," Zevrael said. "It was meant to be honest. You want to know about me? Here's something: I don't comfort people with lies. I don't soften edges just to make someone feel better about a bad situation. If you want pleasant fictions, you've bonded with the wrong demon."
"And if I want brutal honesty?"
"Then you've made an excellent choice," Zevrael said with a slight smile. "I'll tell you exactly what I think, even when you don't want to hear it. Even when it makes you angry. Even when it hurts."
Marcus found himself almost smiling despite everything. "You're an asshole."
"Yes," Zevrael agreed without offense. "But I'm an honest asshole, which is better than a dishonest one. And speaking of honesty—" He moved closer, lowering his voice. "I need to know if you have any self-destructive tendencies. Substance abuse issues, history of self-harm, suicidal ideation. Because the bond will amplify emotions in both directions, and if you're prone to spiraling, I need to know now so I can prepare."
Marcus bristled. "I'm not going to hurt myself just because I'm bonded to a demon."
"That's not what I asked," Zevrael said patiently. "I asked if you have a history. Past doesn't equal future, but it gives me data. Helps me know what warning signs to watch for."
Marcus looked away. "No history. My parents are still alive, still paying for medical school. I have every reason to live. I'm not going to—" He stopped, realizing what he was saying. "I'm not suicidal. I just don't want to be magically compelled to care about someone I didn't choose."
"Fair enough," Zevrael said. "And for the record, I don't have a death wish either, so you won't have to worry about me making reckless decisions that endanger us both. Self-preservation is one of my stronger instincts."
"Good to know," Marcus said dryly. "Anything else you want to interrogate me about?"
"Several things, actually," Zevrael said, and there was that sardonic edge again. "But we're running out of time, and the crows outside are getting impatient. So let's skip to the important one: what do you need from me to make this bearable?"
Marcus blinked. "What?"
"We're about to bind ourselves together permanently," Zevrael said. "I can't change that. You can't change that. But I can try to make it as tolerable as possible. So tell me—what would help? What boundaries do you absolutely need? What would make this feel less like a violation and more like... something you can live with?"
Marcus stared at him, surprised by the question. "You really want to know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."
Marcus thought for a long moment. "Space. I need to know you're not going to be hovering over me every second. I need to feel like I still have privacy, even if you can sense my emotions."
"Done," Zevrael said immediately. "I'll stay invisible in public, maintain physical distance unless you request otherwise or you're in danger. What else?"
"Don't mess with my education. Don't sabotage my relationships with other people. Let me have a normal life as much as possible."
"Agreed. Though I should warn you that 'normal' becomes increasingly difficult when you're bonded to a demon. People will notice the marks. They'll ask questions. You'll have to decide how much to tell them."
"I'll say they're tattoos," Marcus said. "Burn scars. Whatever. But that's my choice to make, not yours."
"Absolutely," Zevrael agreed. "Your life, your explanations. I won't interfere." He paused. "What about the emotional aspect? How do you want to handle it when the bond starts making you feel attached to me?"
Marcus's jaw tightened. "I want to be able to talk about it. To acknowledge that it's happening and it's not something I chose. I don't want you to act like it's normal or expected or that I should just accept it."
"I can do that," Zevrael said quietly. "And the same goes for me. If I start developing feelings that make things complicated, I'll tell you. We'll figure out boundaries together."
"You think you'll develop feelings for me?" Marcus asked, unable to hide his surprise.
Zevrael's expression became unreadable. "I think I'm lonely enough that having someone tied to my soul might feel like a gift I don't deserve. I think the bond affects demons just as strongly as it affects humans. And I think—" He stopped, seeming to choose his words carefully. "I think you're more interesting than I expected. Which means there's potential for genuine attachment beyond what the magic forces. Whether that's good or bad remains to be seen."
Marcus felt his pulse quicken at those words, though he wasn't sure if it was fear or something else. "That's not reassuring either."
"No," Zevrael agreed. "But it's honest. And honestly? That's all I can offer you right now. Honesty, protection, and the promise that I'll try not to make this worse than it has to be."
Marcus met those color-shifting eyes and saw something he hadn't expected—genuine uncertainty. Zevrael might be centuries old, might be powerful and sardonic and occasionally cruel, but right now he looked like someone who was just as scared of what was about to happen as Marcus was.
"You said you've been alone a long time," Marcus said quietly. "But you also said you've never formed a protection bond before. Have you... have you had other bonds? Other kinds?"
Zevrael was silent for a long moment, his expression becoming distant. "Yes. Once. A very long time ago."
"What happened?"
"I loved him," Zevrael said simply. "Thomas. A blacksmith's apprentice in a village outside Prague. He was twenty-three when we bonded, bright and curious and completely unafraid of what I was. We had forty-seven years together before old age took him."
Marcus felt his chest tighten. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. They were the best forty-seven years of my existence." Zevrael's voice was soft with memory. "He wanted to stay in the mortal realm, wanted to live a human life with me watching over him. So I stayed here, walked through his world instead of mine. I learned what it meant to be someone's partner, someone's companion. Not just a protector or a possession, but an equal."
"And after he died?"
"I went back to the underworld," Zevrael said. "Because there was nothing left for me here. Time moves differently there—slower, more forgiving. Centuries pass like decades. It makes the grief more bearable when you're not counting every day he's been gone."
Marcus processed this, understanding dawning. "So you want more from your next bond. You want the bond to include bringing me to the underworld with you."
"Eventually, yes," Zevrael admitted, and there was no apology in his voice. "Not immediately. Not until you've lived your human life, accomplished what you want to accomplish. But when you're older, when your mortal concerns have been satisfied... there's magic that can extend a human's lifespan indefinitely in the underworld. You could live there for centuries, maybe longer. Time would move slowly enough that we could have what Thomas and I had, but for much, much longer."
Marcus felt his heart hammering. "And if I refuse? If I want to live and die in the mortal realm?"
"Then I respect that choice, just as I respected Thomas's," Zevrael said firmly. "You'll get your seventy or eighty years here, and then when you die, the bond breaks. I go back to the underworld alone. What I want doesn't override what you need."
"And if I did go with you?" Marcus asked, not sure why he was even entertaining the idea.
"Then you'd have time, Marcus. Time to become the best doctor you could possibly be. Time to save thousands of lives instead of hundreds. Time to master every aspect of healing because you'd have centuries to learn." Zevrael's eyes were intense. "But you'd give up your human friends, your family, your connection to this world. It's not a decision to make lightly."
Marcus felt torn between terror and fascination. "That sounds like a bribe."
"It's not a bribe. It's an option," Zevrael corrected. "One you don't have to decide on now, or even for decades. I'm just being honest about what I hope for, eventually, while also acknowledging that it has to be your choice. Thomas chose to stay mortal. He chose to grow old and die in the world he knew. I honored that choice then, and I'll honor whatever choice you make now."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, trying to organize his thoughts. "I want to be a doctor," he said finally. "I want to save lives. That's all I've ever wanted. The idea of having centuries to do that... it's tempting in a way I didn't expect. But—"
"But?" Zevrael prompted gently.
"But I've never wanted anyone tied to me if they weren't happy," Marcus continued. "I've never been in love. Never had that connection where you can't imagine being without someone. And if I did fall in love—really fall in love, not just bond-induced attachment—I wouldn't want to leave them behind either. I'd understand exactly where you're coming from." He paused, studying Zevrael's face. "And if you end up truly being in love with me, I couldn't stand the fact that I would end up one day leaving you and hurting you just like Thomas did. I believe that's the real reason you never bonded again. Am I right?"
Zevrael was very still, and for a moment Marcus thought he'd overstepped. Then the demon's expression softened in a way that made him look almost vulnerable.
"Yes," Zevrael said quietly. "You're right. Watching Thomas die, knowing I would continue for centuries while his body turned to dust—it nearly broke me. I've had opportunities to bond since then. Lonely humans, desperate situations. But I couldn't do it again. Couldn't sign up for that inevitable ending." He met Marcus's eyes. "Until Elena rang that bell, and I saw you sitting there, terrified but defiant, asking for negotiation instead of begging for salvation. And I thought... maybe this time could be different. Maybe this time I could offer something that would make the ending less inevitable."
Marcus felt something shift in his chest—not the bond, not yet, but something closer to genuine connection. "We're both going to be lonely together, aren't we? Even with the bond."
"Probably," Zevrael agreed. "At least at first. Until we figure out if we can be something other than demon and prisoner."
"I don't want to be your prisoner."
"I don't want you to be my prisoner either," Zevrael said. "I want—" He stopped, then continued more carefully. "I want what I had with Thomas. A partnership. Someone who chose me, even if the bond made that choice easier. Someone who wanted to be with me, not just someone trapped with me."
"That's a lot to ask from someone you just met," Marcus pointed out.
"I know," Zevrael said. "Which is why I'm not asking for it now. I'm just... hoping. That maybe, eventually, we can get there."
Marcus studied him for another long moment, seeing past the sardonic demon to the lonely being underneath. "Okay. Let's make a deal."
"A deal?" Zevrael's eyebrows rose.
"You give me time. Years to live my human life, become the doctor I want to be, figure out who I am without the bond constantly pushing me toward you. But—" Marcus paused, thinking. "What if there was a way for me to still help humans even from the underworld? Would that make the decision easier for both of us?"
Zevrael tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his color-shifting eyes. "What do you mean?"
"If I go to the underworld eventually, I'd be giving up my ability to practice medicine in the human world," Marcus said slowly, working through the idea as he spoke. "But what about demons with human bonds? They must need medical care for their bonded humans, right? What if I could serve them from the underworld?"
"You're thinking of a clinic," Zevrael said, and something like wonder crept into his voice. "A place where demons could bring their bonded humans for care."
"Exactly," Marcus said, warming to the idea. "It would be like my own practice, but serving the supernatural community. I could help people—humans and demons dealing with bond complications, injuries, illnesses. I wouldn't be giving up medicine, just... expanding my patient base."
Zevrael was quiet for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. "I could reach out to the King of the Underworld. Request that you be allowed to establish such a practice under his protection. It would be unprecedented, but..." He smiled slightly. "But it would also be invaluable. There are thousands of bonded pairs, and most demons have no idea how to properly care for human medical needs. You'd be providing a service that's desperately needed."
"And I wouldn't have to choose between medicine and going with you," Marcus said. "I could have both."
"If the King agrees," Zevrael cautioned. "But I think he would. The underworld values useful skills, and a human doctor willing to serve bonded pairs?" He shook his head. "That's something no one else can offer."
Marcus felt something settle in his chest—not certainty, but possibility. "So we have time to figure this out. Years for me to finish medical school, establish myself, decide if this is really what I want. And if I do choose the underworld, I'd still be saving lives. Just different lives."
"Different lives," Zevrael agreed quietly. "But lives nonetheless."
Marcus took a deep breath, releasing Zevrael's hand. "Okay. Let's go tell them we've reached an agreement. Before I lose my nerve completely."
"Before we do," Zevrael said, "one last question. And you can tell me to go to hell if you want, but I'm going to ask anyway." He stepped closer, close enough that Marcus could see the way the colors in his eyes shifted from violet to blue and back again. "When you looked at me earlier, when I first arrived—what was your first thought?"
Marcus felt heat creep up his neck. "Why does that matter?"
"Because I need to know if there's any natural attraction before the bond forces it," Zevrael said bluntly. "Need to know if what develops between us has any foundation in choice or if it's all magical compulsion."
Marcus wanted to lie, wanted to deny the spike of interest he'd felt when Zevrael had stepped into the room. But the demon had been brutally honest with him, and somehow that demanded honesty in return.
"I thought you were beautiful," Marcus admitted quietly. "In a dangerous kind of way. Like looking at a knife blade or a storm. And I hated that I thought that, because it meant I was already compromised before anything even happened."
Zevrael was very still. "Thank you for the honesty."
"Is that a problem?"
"No," Zevrael said, and something complicated flickered in his expression. "It's just... interesting. Because when I looked at you, I thought the same thing. That you were more attractive than you had any right to be, given the circumstances. That this was going to be complicated in ways I hadn't anticipated." He smiled slightly. "So at least we're both compromised from the start. Makes it fair."
"Nothing about this is fair," Marcus said, but some of the heat had gone out of his voice.
"No," Zevrael agreed. "But we're going to make it work anyway. Because the alternative is unacceptable."
The study door finally opened after what felt like an eternity. Marcus emerged first, and Julian immediately studied his face for clues. His roommate looked... calmer. Still frightened, still obviously stressed, but there was a determination in his expression that hadn't been there before. Behind him, Zevrael followed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as he watched Marcus move back toward the center of the room.
"We've reached an understanding," Zevrael announced, and his voice carried a note of satisfaction. "Marcus has outlined his boundaries, and I've outlined mine. We've negotiated terms that we both find acceptable, given the circumstances."
He moved to stand beside Marcus—not touching, but close enough to show a united front. "First," Zevrael said, "I will protect Marcus from all supernatural threats, including but not limited to Malphas and any entities working with him. This protection extends to physical, spiritual, and psychological harm. I will defend him with every resource at my disposal, including lethal force if necessary."
Marcus picked up the list, his voice steadier now. "Second, Zevrael will maintain a respectful distance from me unless I specifically request his presence, or unless I'm in immediate danger that requires his intervention. He won't simply appear whenever he feels like it. My space remains my own."
"Third," Zevrael continued, "I will not use the bond to manipulate Marcus's emotions, thoughts, or decisions. The bond will create a natural emotional connection over time—that's unavoidable—but I won't artificially amplify or direct those feelings for my own benefit. What develops between us will be as organic as possible given the magical constraints."
"Fourth," Marcus said, "Zevrael will not interfere with my education or career plans. He won't sabotage my relationships with other people, won't prevent me from living a normal life as much as possible. I still get to be me, just... with supernatural protection."
"Fifth," Zevrael said, his tone becoming more serious, "I will remain invisible in public settings unless Marcus explicitly gives me permission to be seen. His choice whether to acknowledge our bond to others, how much to explain, who to tell. I won't force him to out himself as being bound to a demon."
"Sixth," Marcus added, and Julian noticed his hands were shaking slightly as he spoke, "if either of us develops feelings that make the other uncomfortable—romantic, possessive, or otherwise—we agree to discuss it openly rather than letting it become a problem. This goes both ways. If I become too attached, Zevrael can establish boundaries. If he wants more than I'm comfortable giving, I can say no."
"That last point is crucial," Zevrael emphasized, looking around the room. "The bond affects both parties equally. Marcus was worried—rightfully—that I might be lonely enough to take advantage of the situation. So we've agreed that I have just as much right to protect my emotional autonomy as he does. If the bond makes Marcus want something from me that I'm not willing to give, I can refuse without the bond weakening."
Julian felt a surge of relief. They'd actually thought it through, actually tried to make this as fair as possible.
"There's one more thing," Marcus said quietly. "I asked Zevrael if he was lonely. If he was looking for this kind of bond because he wanted companionship, not just because Professor Chen called in a favor."
The room went completely silent. Even the crows seemed to stop their tapping, as if Malphas himself was curious about the answer. Zevrael's expression remained carefully neutral, but Julian caught a flicker of something vulnerable in those constantly-shifting eyes.
"I told him the truth," Zevrael said, and his voice had lost its sardonic edge entirely. "I've been alone for a very long time. Not imprisoned like Valerius, but... isolated. Demons don't form close relationships easily—we're territorial, possessive, too dangerous to let our guards down around each other. And humans—" He paused, glancing at Marcus. "Humans usually see us as monsters or threats. They don't see us as people who might want connection just as badly as they do."
He took a breath, and Julian realized with shock that the demon was actually nervous. "The idea of having a bond with someone, even under these circumstances, even with a human who didn't choose me... yes, part of me wants that. Wants to matter to someone again. Wants to have a reason to exist beyond just surviving another century."
Marcus was very still, listening.
"But," Zevrael continued, meeting Marcus's eyes directly, "I also told him that wanting something doesn't give me the right to take it. That if all Marcus ever wants from me is protection and distance, I'll respect that. The bond will make us care about each other eventually—that's unavoidable magic, not personal choice. But how we act on those feelings, what we do with that connection—that's still up to us."
Marcus nodded slowly. "I appreciate the honesty. And I told him—" He paused, seeming to struggle with the words. "I told him that he's not what I expected either. When Professor Chen said demon, I thought... something monstrous. Something inhuman. But you're—" He gestured vaguely at Zevrael. "You're just a person who happens to be supernatural. And you actually listened to my concerns instead of dismissing them."
There was a beat of silence, and Julian noticed the way Zevrael's gaze lingered on Marcus's face. The way Marcus didn't look away, despite the color-shifting intensity of those demonic eyes. It wasn't love, not yet, but there was something there—a spark of mutual recognition, of two people in an impossible situation trying to find common ground.
"I still think this is insane," Marcus added, breaking the moment. "I'm still terrified. I still wish there was another way. But at least now I know who I'm binding myself to. At least we're going into this with our eyes open."
"As open as possible, given that neither of us knows exactly how the bond will change us," Zevrael said with a slight smile. "But yes. Honesty is better than false comfort."
Professor Chen cleared her throat gently. "So you're both ready to proceed?"
Marcus and Zevrael looked at each other. Some wordless communication passed between them—not magical yet, just two people acknowledging the weight of what they were about to do.
"Yes," Marcus said, though his voice shook slightly. "Let's do this before I lose my nerve."
"Yes," Zevrael agreed, and his tone was almost gentle. "Let's begin."
As Professor Chen moved to clear space for the ritual, Zevrael allowed himself one private thought, carefully shielded from the bond that was about to form. All he truly wanted was to ensure Marcus's comfort and happiness—to be the kind of partner Thomas had deserved, the kind who could make eternity feel like a gift rather than a burden.
This was the first time since Thomas had chosen oblivion over an eternity with him that Zevrael had allowed himself to feel anything beyond hollow existence. He could still remember that moment in the underworld—Thomas's soul arriving after his mortal death, the joy Zevrael had felt thinking they'd have forever together, and then Thomas's quiet, devastating choice. "I love you, but I can't do this. I can't exist forever. Let me go."
Thomas had chosen to cease existing rather than stay with Zevrael in the underworld. Not because the underworld was terrible, but because Thomas simply couldn't bear the weight of eternal existence. And Zevrael had honored that choice, had let Thomas's soul fade into oblivion, but it had felt like the ultimate rejection. Like forty-seven years together hadn't been enough to make Zevrael worth existing for.
He'd spent centuries telling himself that Thomas's choice was valid, that not everyone could handle eternity, that it wasn't personal. But the loneliness that followed had been crushing.
Now, standing beside this terrified pre-med student who'd negotiated boundaries with fierce determination, Zevrael felt something crack open in his chest. Hope, maybe. Or just the willingness to try again, to be better, to build something that might make eternity feel bearable instead of like an endless punishment.
He would not make the same mistakes. He would not assume his love alone was enough. If Marcus ever chose to stay in the underworld, it would be because Zevrael had built something truly worth existing for—not because the alternative was oblivion.