"I have passed by many eyes, but I got lost in yours."
ISABELLA
Blood.
Her hands were drenched in it, trembling as they clutched the fine white fabric of his shirt—once flawless, now soaked through with crimson. It wasn't hers. It was his.
"William… please. Get up. Scold me, curse me, hit me if you want, but don't—don't be silent."
Her voice broke into a wail, raw and desperate. The weight of his body rested, heavy in her lap, but his chest no longer rose. His skin had lost its warmth. His lips, once quick to smirk at her stubbornness, were still.
Her tears fell endlessly, streaking down her face and mingling with his blood. She rocked him against her chest like a child refusing to let go of a broken toy, whispering promises through sobs.
"I'll do anything. Please, William, don't leave me."
But the man she loved—the man who was supposed to be her forever—lay unmoving, slipping further and further away.
And then pain.
A brutal yank tore through her scalp as someone seized her by the hair and dragged her away. She clawed at the earth, tried to hold onto William, but her strength had bled out with her tears.
"Please!" she screamed, her throat ragged. "Let me stay with him! I beg you—"
A low, manic laugh cut through her cries. The man dragging her leaned close, his breath hot against her ear.
"Oh, doll… you'll stay with him. Right after I kill you."
Her gaze never left William. His face blurred, her vision clouded by tears and blood loss, but she refused to look away. Even as the world crumbled, even as her head snapped violently to the side when a wooden club crashed against her temple, she clung to the sight of him.
The ground was wet beneath her, mud swallowing her palms as she collapsed. Half-lidded eyes searched for William, but all she saw was a vague silhouette, slipping further into the darkness that threatened to consume her.
Voices cut through the ringing in her ears.
"Sir, I found it!"
"What took you so long, Noah? Give it here!"
A dagger gleamed as it changed hands. She tried to move, tried to crawl, but her body betrayed her. Her heart had shattered the moment William fell. What was the point of fighting now?
The man crouched before her, forcing her chin up with a bruising grip. His eyes gleamed with something unholy.
"Still so pretty," he sneered. "I warned you, didn't I? You could have had me. You could have been mine. But no—you chose him. And look where it got you."
He smirked, tilting his head to admire her blood-streaked face.
"Red suits you, doll. Like paint on the perfect canvas. But your beauty's wasted now. Without him… you're nothing."
He let go. Her head lolled to the side. Her vision tunnelled until all she could see was William's broken body. Her lips parted to call out to him, but the cry died in her throat as fire tore through her chest.
A blade. Piercing. Burning. Destroying.
Her scream ripped through the night before everything went black.
"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Isabella bolted upright, clutching her chest, her nightdress damp with sweat and tears. The echo of the dagger's fire still seared her insides. Her sobs tore through the quiet of her room, and within seconds the door burst open.
"Bambi!"
William was at her side in an instant, kneeling by her bed, his face taut with panic. He gathered her trembling body into his arms.
"My baby, what happened? Shh, I'm here. Calm down." His hand stroked her back in slow, steady circles, his voice a low whisper meant to anchor her.
Her breathing was jagged, uncontrollable. She buried her face into his chest, clutching at his shirt with desperate fists.
"H-He—" she tried, but her voice cracked.
"Shhh. It's okay, love. I'm not going anywhere. Breathe for me." His tone was firm but gentle, grounding her as her sobs subsided into ragged gasps.
Slowly, her trembling eased. The frantic rise and fall of her chest began to calm under his steady presence. William tipped her chin up, brushing away her tears with his thumb, his gaze soft yet unreadable.
"Is it the same dream again, Bambi?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, shame tugging her head low. "Yes… the same dream. It's so real every time. I can feel it—the pain, the fire, everything. My chest still hurts, William. And…" She faltered, her lips trembling.
"And what?" he pressed gently, pulling her onto his lap as if she weighed nothing.
"And every time, it's always the same man. He's lying there, bleeding. Dead." Her voice cracked as fresh tears brimmed. "But I can't see his face. No matter how hard I try, it's blurred. And yet… I keep calling him by your name."
Her small fingers tightened on his shirt.
"It's so strange, William. In my dreams, I keep calling him… Samael. But I don't even know anyone with that name."
The room fell into silence, broken only by the sound of her uneven breathing against his chest. William's arms tightened around her, his expression hidden in the shadows.
Isabella's breathing softened against his chest, her trembling slowly giving way to exhaustion. William kept one hand pressed to her back, the other buried in her hair, but his jaw was tight, his knuckles white.
Samael.
The name had slipped from her lips like a ghost. She should not have known it. She could not have remembered it. And yet… she had.
His eyes flicked to the window, where the night pressed against the glass like an unspoken threat. The dreams were getting stronger. Too strong. If she continued to speak that name, others would hear. Others would remember.
His hold on her tightened, almost possessive, before he forced himself to ease it. She couldn't know. Not yet.
"Sleep, Bambi," he whispered into her hair, his voice steady though his insides burned. "I'll protect you."
But even as he said it, his mind lingered on the vision of the blade from her dream—the cursed dagger with the markings that had haunted him for lifetimes.
It had killed her once. And he knew, with bone-deep certainty, it would come for her again.