"I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe; I told it not, my wrath did grow."
— William Blake, A Poison Tree
Raya read the lines until they blurred.
They clung to her mind like thorns beneath the skin.
She had never told her wrath. Never screamed. Never cursed. Never fought back. She smiled when they mocked her, prayed when they broke her, whispered I forgive when her chest burned with words she was never allowed to speak.
Forgiveness, she realized, was only a seed.
What she watered every day was silence.
Every insult, every betrayal, every cruel whisper became rain to the thing growing inside her — a poison tree, unseen but alive. Its roots coiled around her heart, tightening with every breath. Its branches threaded through her thoughts, dark and patient.
And its fruit — luminous, red, impossibly inviting — whispered softly:
You don't belong here. But I can give you peace. An eternal one.
Raya closed her eyes.
She saw herself standing beneath that tree, barefoot in a land without sky. Her veins itched like vines creeping beneath her skin. The voices in her head rustled like leaves stirred by an unseen wind. Her fear stretched long and dark at her feet — a shadow that did not belong to her alone.
"Raya…" Ammi's voice came from beyond the door, gentle but unsteady. "Come eat, please."
But the hunger was not for food.
The hunger was for release.
The fruit hung low.
Waiting.
"Raya! Raya!" Asha shook her awake. "You have to eat. And take your pills."
"Yeah… alright," Raya murmured, rolling onto her side before sitting up slowly.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face, ate without tasting. After her shower, she returned to her room and opened her book of poems — pages crowded with words she never said aloud. When she finished writing, she folded the book shut and turned toward prayer.
She asked for forgiveness.
She asked for strength.
She asked for silence.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her breath caught.
Someone's at the door.
She peered into the hallway and froze.
"What is he doing here?" she whispered, already stepping back.
"I know you're there," Aaqib's voice came through the door. "Just open it."
"Why are you here?" she called, guarded.
"Open it, Raya," Asha said from the kitchen. "Don't leave him standing outside."
With a sigh, she pulled the door open.
"Hey," Aaqib smiled. "Miss me already? I didn't stay away for long."
"You wish," she replied flatly. "Why are you here? Don't you have school?"
"I did," he said lightly. "I just had you next on my schedule. So—chess? Reading?"
"Aaqib! How kind of you to stop by," Asha said brightly. "Come in, sweet boy. Would you like some juice? Raya, usher him in."
Hope trembled in her voice.
"And checkmate," Raya said quietly, leaning back. "You can't beat someone like me at chess."
"Someone like you?" Aaqib asked.
She shrugged. "Someone whose mind never rests."
"I don't think you're broken," he said gently. "I think you're overwhelmed. And I think things can still be okay."
She laughed — soft, sharp, humorless. "The doctor says my mind is too tense. That it needs rest." She shook her head. "They don't understand what's growing inside me."
Her voice dropped. "I've accepted what I am. I don't need comfort dressed up as hope. I don't need a pause. I need escape."
She exhaled slowly. "Sorry. I don't usually say that out loud."
"You spoke your truth," he said. "That means you're still here. You don't have to long for death."
"Don't," she warned, her eyes hardening. "Don't try to change me. This was decided long before I understood it. I'm going to meet Him. I love you — but I love Him more. If you try to pull me back, I'll make you hate me."
They stared at each other.
Aaqib looked away first.
"I'm not your enemy," he said quietly. "I just want you to stay."
He reached out, brushing her hair, careful — as if she might shatter.
Meanwhile, in the Underworld
"Son," Demon Lord Kalasur said, his gaze fixed on the crystal that mirrored the mortal realm, "you must claim what is bound to you before it withers."
The Prince's jaw tightened. "You lost the right to command me five hundred years ago. You lied. You betrayed me. You stripped me of the last emotion I had."
He turned, shadows bending with him. "If harm touches her, this realm will burn. Not even Hades will stop what follows."
He left the chamber in silence that screamed.
Prince of the Underworld — POV
I walked until the anger dulled into something colder.
When control slipped, I knew where to go.
I returned to my chamber and pulled a single book from the hidden shelf. Stone shifted. A passage revealed itself. I lifted a torch; the others ignited in answer — a reminder of what I am.
At the metal door, I cut my palm.
Blood met iron.
The door bloomed with light and opened.
Inside, the air felt familiar — like roots and shadow and waiting.
All I could think of was her.
The poison tree in her world was no accident. Its roots drank from my realm. Its whispers carried my voice before I ever spoke.
What greater curse exists than being a demon — to touch a soul and doom it by loving it?
I will find you, I swore. And when I do, you will be mine. Bound — as fate intended.