"I'm sorry…" A young man lay on the ground weakly, his body sprawled across cold stone as he looked up at his girlfriend, who was standing over him, holding back tears as she apologized, her voice trembling. He lay in the middle of a pentagram, one that had been drawn using his own blood, the crimson lines still glistening wetly in the dim light that filled the chamber.
"It needs the sacrifice of the person I loved most… this is so messed up. But I have no choice… my love, my desires, my will… they come second." She said, slowly lowering herself to sit on top of him, her weight pressing against his paralyzed form. He looked at her, utterly unable to move or speak, his body refusing every command his mind desperately screamed at it. There was no anger or rage in his eyes, just disappointment, and a deep, wounded look of pain for the person who should have been the one he trusted most in this world, now betraying him.
The pain was deep. Bone deep. It radiated through every fiber of his being. So many hints of blood tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, the crimson liquid pooling and threatening to spill, his body unable to handle the magnitude of the betrayal he was facing.
"I'm sorry." She said again, her hands shaking visibly as she held the knife over his chest, the blade. She closed her eyes for some time, steadying herself against what she was about to do. Then she opened them to look at him once more, slowly lowered her head, and shared one final, deep kiss with him. She knew he would have rejected this if he could move, would have turned away in disgust—but as he was now, paralyzed and helpless, he had no choice but to accept it.
She kept her eyes closed throughout, unable to bear the sight of his shaking eyes, which showed how much he rejected this, how he was against all of it, how blood tears were streaming down from his unblinking gaze in thin rivulets.
But she wanted to kiss the man she had loved with all of her heart. The man who had forced her to fight between her destiny and her feelings. A man she had tried to run from, but who had dragged her back into his arms every time—never knowing she was trying to save him from this very fate.
She slowly lifted her head, tears spilling from her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. She took in the full weight of his expression—the look of betrayal, the pain, and the profound sadness swimming in his gaze.
She'd had to paralyze him, not wanting him to speak. If he could speak, she knew she would fail in her mission. She would not be able to handle it if he spoke reason to her, if he pleaded or simply said her name. Just looking at those eyes was hard enough.
Slowly, she brought the knife over his chest. She watched as his eyes turned to panic at the realization that he was about to die, that these were his final moments. She wanted to close her eyes, wanted to look away—but instead she watched. She watched the look of agony that twisted his features when she began to slowly cut his chest open, the blade parting flesh.
His pupils—the only thing he could move—were shaking madly, showing the immensity of the pain he was experiencing. With a trembling body, she forced a smile onto her face, which only caused his eyes to twist further at this sight, watching as the smile grew wider despite being forced.
Bit by bit, she cut him open, parting flesh and bone until she revealed the steel beating heart in his chest, gleaming wetly amidst the ruin of his body. She slowly looked away from his eyes and gazed down at his beating heart, watching it pulse with stubborn life. As she stared at it, her emotions began to die within her, fading away as she reached out towards it with blood-slicked fingers.
At the same time she reached towards his heart, the man—drowning in agony unlike anything he had ever felt—watched as her body began to transform before him. His beautiful Latina girlfriend was slowly growing demonic horns that curved elegantly from her skull, while a long tail emerged behind her, sinuous and otherworldly, ending in the shape of a heart.
She didn't look back at him, as if scared to see his reaction to her true form. But she froze, her hand hovering over his heart, which had calmed slightly in its frantic beating. She looked up from his chest and saw his shocked eyes—like he was shocked she had somehow gotten even more beautiful. But that shock disappeared quickly, replaced by something else as he met the gaze of the person who was torturing him. A look she couldn't put into words.
It was a mix of disappointment that cut deep. A mix of regret for ever loving her. Unwillingness to die. Hatred directed at himself for being so blind. And more she couldn't name or comprehend.
All of this just made her cry harder. Why was there still no hatred for her in his eyes? She let out a cry of anguish, a wail of pain, cursing all of this—cursing fate, cursing her blood, cursing everything that had led them here. But it was too late now.
After that cry tore from her throat, she let out a deep, shuddering breath, and with that exhale, it was like a switch was flipped. All of her emotions disappeared, replaced with a twisted smile that took pleasure in his pain, which only caused the feelings in his eyes to intensify… and finally she saw it. Hatred. It was weak, barely flickering to life, but it was there—and it allowed her to move on to the next step.
She went on to cut his limbs apart, severing them one by one while he was still alive, still conscious, ignoring his eyes, which were shaking from the sheer magnitude of his agony. She took his organs, removing them methodically, leaving only his lungs and still-beating heart. Now—with no arms, everything below the waist gone, his ears carved away, his tongue cut out, his eyeballs removed and placed around the circle alongside his other pieces—she stepped away from what remained of him.
"It's time we step into this world and find a home for ourselves… I sacrifice everything. The one I loved more than my own life—for my people." She said, her voice hollow and distant, as blood tears flowed down her emotionless face. She didn't need to act anymore. It was over. She watched as the magical circle flared to life around them, ancient power awakening in response to the sacrifice…
---
"Prince, are you awake?" With a head that was pounding like hell, the young man opened his eyes to the sound of someone shaking him relentlessly. Blinking against the sudden light, he saw a maid—about ten years old—who let out a relieved sigh upon seeing he was awake, her small shoulders sagging with relief.
He looked at her in confusion, suddenly realizing with a jolt that he could move. He thought his fiancée had been cutting him open, eviscerating him piece by piece—yet here he was, intact, being awakened by a maid? This maid was also strikingly beautiful, possessing a supermodel level of beauty that seemed almost unreal.
"Is everything okay?" The maid asked, worry evident in her young voice.
"Who are you?" He asked with a frown, stunning the maid, who stepped away from him in shock. Horror flickered across her delicate features before she turned and ran away, leaving him utterly confused as he sat up. His face twisted in pain at the movement—but he ignored it. The discomfort was nothing compared to his fiancée's torture.
For some reason, every cut she had made with the blade cut like hell. Even the faintest cut, the most shallow and seemingly insignificant slice—it had been absolute hell as she carved him apart piece by agonizing piece.
It was his own fault for loving someone. His fault for believing in love so deeply and allowing it to blind him to all the red flags he should have seen, all the warning signs he had willfully ignored.
His legs, his dick, his balls, his arms… she had cut off everything, separated him from his own body while he remained conscious through it all. It was a cruel death, one he would never wish upon anyone, not even his worst enemy.
The pain of having the love of your life—the person you trusted above all others—be the one to inflict such agony upon you, it had only made the suffering infinitely worse. Each wound carried an emotional weight that multiplied the physical torment tenfold, making every slice feel like a thousand.
'What is this place?' He thought, slowly pushing himself to stand and looking around the unfamiliar room, noting immediately that it didn't look modern in any way whatsoever.
Yes, every movement sent waves of pain through his body, but it seemed like he had built a great resistance towards physical suffering through his recent ordeal. The memory of being dismembered alive made this current discomfort feel almost manageable by comparison.