The dawn lay motionless as the clock struck four. Red numbers glowed in the darkness, the sole witnesses to the passing of time. The silence that always reigned around the solitary house was suddenly shattered; a dense energy vibrated through the foundations, shaking the walls and windows of Janab's room. Dust fell from the ceiling in fine particles, suspended in the static air.
The roar of the wind forced the door open with violence, dragging in a frozen whirlwind that compelled her to close her eyes. The wood struck the inner wall with a dry thud. Then, the lamps exploded in a blinding glare, fragmenting. Shards of glass rained upon the floor, crunching against the carpet.
Amidst that chaos, his presence emerged: Isaiah. His deep eyes—expressionless yet hypnotic—pierced through Janab, reminding her of what true terror was. The temperature dropped abruptly, freezing the breath upon her lips.
He walked through the gloom with soundless steps, dominating the space until he stopped just inches from her. His tall, shadowy figure completely eclipsed the diminutive silhouette of the woman who, inadvertently, had awakened both his wrath and his curiosity. His shadow covered her entirely, blotting out the little residual light remaining in the room.
Janab remained motionless, paralyzed by a mixture of fear and surprise. Her muscles tensed, unable to obey the command to flee. Every memory, every thought, was torn from her mind without her consent, and her heart hammered frantically against her chest. The sound of her heartbeat was the only thing she could hear over the whistling of the wind.
—So... you wish to establish a pact, —his voice emerged from the cutting silence, cruel. It was not a murmur; it was a sentence.
Janab swallowed hard, unable to respond, aware that this was no dream. Her throat closed from the dryness of panic. Isaiah tilted his head slightly, his mystic eyes fixed upon hers, allowing no escape. The proximity was suffocating.
—For that to be possible, you should forget what you have seen, —he continued, each word steeped in threat and an impossible magnetism to ignore.
His voice resonated in the deepest part of her being, not just in the air. She remained in silence, absorbed by confusion. Her mind struggled between the possible and the impossible. Her legs trembled beneath the sheets.
Isaiah smiled faintly, a malignant calm thickening the raw atmosphere, though without showing his teeth.
—Tell me, what do you think of demons? —he asked suddenly, as if reading her thoughts.
Janab blinked, bewildered. She did not know how to respond; the question sounded absurd, out of place. Her lips parted without emitting a sound.
—I want you to visit a demon, —he added, with the same deathly serenity—. You will cross the forest to the east and you must find "him." Tell him I am looking for Dan Debellis. Then, if you manage to return, I will grant you your freedom. But if you try to escape... —his voice grew lower, a whisper that drove into her bones— I... will definitely find you.
The threat did not sound like a possibility, but like a physical certainty. Something made it difficult for her to inhale.
—I will not escape, —Janab replied, indignation mixed with fear flushing her cheeks.
Her voice sounded weak compared to the vampire's presence. Isaiah cocked his head, his expression imperturbable and cruel. Darkness seemed to concentrate within his pupils.
—Then we have a deal. I shall be awaiting your return, —he said, and every syllable felt as heavy as a ton.
The promise of surveillance was absolute. With an elegant movement, he turned and vanished into the threshold of the door. Thus, a dead silence settled in the room, so thick that Janab felt time itself had halted its march. The cold remained even after his departure.
Astilbe was intelligent; he spoke with prudence and acted in kind, but he was too considerate toward humans. Not even the thousands of disappointments he could count throughout his existence as a being of shadows were enough to distance him from those unpredictable mortals. And now he spoke of freeing her. Of course, it was significant that Janab had not escaped, but Isaiah concluded it was an act of naive hope. And something so stupid could only be caused by Astilbe's unnecessary kindness. His blood brother's weakness was a flaw that Isaiah did not share.
He closed his eyes, steadying the day he had locked that woman away and allowed Astilbe to interfere in the matter. The memory projected in his mind with an uncomfortable clarity.
«Are you simply going to leave that girl there, forgotten?»
Astilbe's voice resonated in the memory, persistent. Isaiah's body lay upon the immense bed of his chambers. His hair spread like dark silk over the covers that never wrinkled when he slept. His eyes were closed and his immobility was absolute.
«Isaiah, I know you are not asleep.»
The insistence was irritating. Although the black-haired vampire felt an immense disinterest, he knew he had no choice but to respond. The silence lasted too long.
«A simple piece of meat. She should only wait for her end.»
His voice in the memory sounded distant, devoid of empathy.
«She cannot spend her days locked in that place. Perhaps you can sleep for thousands of years in a dark room like this, but she should not spend her last days like that.»
Astilbe approached in the memory, his figure standing out against the darkness of the room.
«So today you have come to bother me with trifles.»
Isaiah did not move in the memory, nor did he now.
«If it is of no importance... is it alright if I have a little fun with her?»
«Very well.»
The concession was minimal, barely a breath. Ill-temper was not characteristic of Isaiah, despite his cold face. But in those days, his thoughts traveled toward Hellery and everything occurring at the White Castle. He knew Astilbe was different from him. Vampires, as solitary creatures, did not create real bonds, yet he had allowed himself to be consumed by the existence of the "Saint" far more than he was willing to accept. And now, that indirect obsession threatened to corrupt even his most calculated decisions. The connection to Hellery made him vulnerable.
Nothing in the ghostly figure revealed his intentions. He remained there, merged with the darkness, while Janab's thoughts were whispered into his own unconscious as if he were their master. He could feel her fear from a distance, vibrating like a taut string.
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