IRYNA
The door opened. And there were no stairs. No steps curling upward like he had implied. No narrow passage leading back to the world I understood. Just smoke. Thick. Rolling. Endless. It moved like it was breathing. For a second, I stood there gripping the handle, my pulse loud in my ears. The air behind me felt heavy — like if I turned around, he would still be there, watching. Waiting to see if I would hesitate. I didn't give him that satisfaction.
I stepped forward. The darkness swallowed me whole. It wasn't cold. It wasn't warm. It was nothing. Like stepping into the space between heartbeats. My stomach dropped as if I were falling from somewhere high, but my feet never actually left the ground. I reached out blindly. My fingers brushed wood. Solid. Real. The world snapped back into place so suddenly I staggered forward.
I landed inside the library.
The familiar scent of old books and dust filled my lungs. The overhead lights hummed softly. Chairs sat where they always sat. Tables were untouched. It looked so painfully normal that for a second I wondered if I had imagined everything. Then I heard footsteps. Ciara was pacing between the shelves, her hands twisting together, her face pale.
When she saw me, she froze.
"Iryna?"
Her voice cracked. Before I could say anything, she ran toward me. She collided into me so hard I almost lost my balance. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, fingers clutching the back of my shirt like she was afraid I'd disappear again.
"Oh my God," she cried. "Iryna, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
Her body was shaking. I stood there stiff for a moment. My mind was still half inside smoke and shadows and golden eyes. Still hearing his voice. Then I slowly wrapped my arms around her.
"It's okay," I said softly.
"It's not okay!" She pulled back just enough to look at me, tears streaking down her face. "When that demon pushed you over the hill, I thought you were dead. I wanted to jump with you. I tried to fight him. I swear I did. I kicked and scratched and everything, but he just—"
She gestured helplessly.
"He picked me up like I weighed nothing. I couldn't even move. And then he just… put me to sleep."
Her voice dropped into something small.
"When I woke up, I was here. In the library. Alone."
A strange chill slid down my spine.
"I can't even remember what he looked like," she added, frowning. "I try to picture his face and it's just… blank."
I went still. Blank. I tried to picture the Sovereig. Nothing. Not his eyes. Not his mouth. Not even the shape of his face. Just a presence.
Just the memory of being observed.
"That's weird," Ciara whispered.
I swallowed.
"I don't remember clearly either."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"I can't picture him. The Sovereign. And…" My throat tightened slightly. "Even the other one."
The dragon. Dark. I could remember his presence. The weight of him. The heat of his hand at my waist. The sound of his voice against my ear. But when I tried to force my mind to hold his face steady, it blurred like smoke. As if my memory refused to disobey him.
Ciara's expression shifted from fear to something closer to horror.
"That's not normal."
No. It wasn't. Nothing about today was. I forced a breath into my lungs.
"Bur wait... What other one?" She asked, confusion etched on her face.
"Let's go. I'll tell you on the way."
She nodded immediately. Outside, the sky had deepened into late evening. The air felt cooler. Too much time had passed. Or maybe not enough. I reached into my pocket for my phone as we walked toward the street. No missed calls. No messages. My brows pulled together. That didn't make sense. My mom would have called.
Ciara and I got into a cab without speaking much. The city moved around us like nothing had shifted in the universe. Cars passed. People laughed on sidewalks. Streetlights flickered on. Normal. Painfully normal.
Ciara finally broke the silence.
"So, what happened?" she asked quietly. "When he pushed you. I thought…" She swallowed. "I thought you were dead."
I watched the buildings blur past the window.
"They never meant to fix my heart," I said.
"What?"
I let out a slow breath.
"There's something inside me." The words sounded insane even as I said them. "There was another demon, his name is Dark. I met him when that sovereign one pushed me. He called the thing inside me, a soul anchor. A fragment of him."
Ciara stared at me.
"A fragment of him?"
"Yes. It turns out this whole thing was just to release him from being sealed. He said the soul anchor entered me before I was born. It's the cause of my failing heart."
Her mouth slowly fell open.
"Oh my goodness. That's absurd."
"I know."
"So, you mean something of the demon had been in you since your birth. And it wasn't the demons feeding on you?"
I sighed. "I don't even know, Ciara. The whole thing still hasn't made any sense to me. He said my heart wasn't being fed on," I said. "It never was. I don't even know what to believe anymore."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"This is my fault," Ciara whispered suddenly. "If I hadn't pushed you to go—"
"It's not your fault."
"They found you because of me."
"No." I shook my head slowly. "He said they would've come for me anyway. One way or another."
Ciara's expression crumpled at that. Like the last thin thread she'd been holding onto had snapped. I don't even know why I kept talking after that. Maybe I was afraid that if I stayed quiet, the whole thing would start feeling like a dream again. Or maybe I just needed someone else to hear it so I didn't feel insane.
So I told her.
I told her how Dark had stood there like my life was a minor inconvenience. How he said I could live — that my heart wouldn't fail — if I stayed close to him. If he slowly reclaimed whatever fragment of himself was buried inside me. I should have stopped before that part. Because the moment I said I could live, something lit up in her face. Hope. Raw and desperate.
She grabbed my hands tightly. "That means… you won't die in one month?"
Her voice trembled around the words. And I instantly regretted telling her.
"I don't know, Ciara," I said, pulling my hands free gently. "He said I'd survive. But he also said I'd be bonded to him. Forever."
The word felt like a chain around my throat.
"I would rather count my days," I added quietly, staring at the road ahead, "than live longer dependent on some demon."
Ciara sank back into her seat.
"That's messed up," she muttered. "And how are we even supposed to trust him? The other one — the Sovereign — already lied to us."
I nodded. That was the part that kept replaying in my head.
"Exactly. What if he's lying too? What if this is just another manipulation? What if after he's done with me… I die anyway?"
The cab hummed softly as it moved through traffic. Ciara didn't answer right away. She just stared out the window, her reflection faint in the glass. I could practically see her thoughts racing. Please don't cling to that hope, I thought. Please don't start believing him just because he offered a way out.
Finally, she turned back to me.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Then we don't decide anything yet."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means we wait. We watch. If your body starts reacting. If the pain changes. If something happens when you're away from him…" She hesitated. "Then maybe we consider that he wasn't lying."
I shook my head immediately.
"No, Ciara. I know you want me to survive. I know that." My voice softened for a second before tightening again. "But it doesn't make sense. He's dangerous. They're all dangerous. We don't know their motives. We don't know what this 'anchor' even fully means."
She nodded, but she didn't look convinced.
"So what do you suggest?" she asked.
I exhaled sharply.
"I suggest we don't walk straight back into a demon's arms because he promised me a longer life."
Silence settled again. After a moment, Ciara straightened a little.
"Then we look for proof."
"Proof?" I echoed.
"Yes. Something tangible. Something that shows he's telling the truth." She leaned toward me slightly. "Because if he is telling the truth, Iryna… that means you have a chance."
Her voice softened.
"A real chance to live."
My chest tightened.
"And even if you're bonded to him," she continued carefully, "that doesn't automatically mean you have to leave everyone else. He didn't say you'd be locked away with him forever."
I looked down at my hands. Didn't he? He hadn't said it directly. But everything about him felt like possession. Like inevitability.
"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't even want to think about it."
The more we talked about it, the more unreal everything felt. Like I was balancing on the edge of something massive and unseen.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," I said finally. "It's making me feel like I'm losing my mind."
Ciara reached over and squeezed my shoulder gently.
"Okay," she said. "We'll stop."
We didn't speak again after that. The cab slowed as we turned into her grandmother's neighborhood. Warm yellow lights glowed from the windows of small houses. It looked safe. Ordinary.
Ciara hesitated before opening the door.
"You'll text me when you get home?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"And if you feel anything weird. Anything at all."
"I will."
She studied my face for a second longer, like she was memorizing it. Then she stepped out of the cab. And I was alone with my thoughts again.
As we turned onto my street, I felt it. A slow, deliberate pulse beneath my ribs but I ignored it. This wasn't this first time I had felt pain. I had felt pain for years. I would be fine. My house came into view. And my mother was standing outside. She was on the porch, arms wrapped around herself, scanning the street with that worried crease between her brows. The porch light cast a soft glow over her face. The moment she saw the cab, she hurried forward. My chest tightened — and not because of the anchor.
I stepped out of the car. Before I could even close the door, she pulled me into a tight hug.
"Iryna!" she breathed. "Where have you been? I've been calling you over and over. I was about to go to the police."
Her voice trembled. Guilt hit me instantly.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly, hugging her back. "I wasn't with my phone."
She pulled back just enough to look at me.
"I called so many times. You didn't answer once."
I frowned slightly and pulled my phone out again. Still no missed calls. Not one. I didn't argue. I didn't tell her. I already knew why. Whatever that realm had been — whatever space he ruled — normal rules hadn't applied there.
"I was with Ciara," I said softly. "We were just talking. You know. Girl stuff. I lost track of time."
She studied my face carefully, like she was searching for something.
"You scared me."
"I'm sorry," I whispered again.
And this time when I hugged her, I held on tighter. Her warmth felt fragile. I buried my face briefly against her shoulder and closed my eyes. I wished — so badly — that my biggest problem was a weak heart and not a demon who claimed a piece of my soul. I wished my life was simple.
Normal.
I wished I didn't have to choose between dying peacefully or living chained to something ancient and dark. But the slow, steady pulse beneath my ribs reminded me. This was real. I had felt him. I had seen what happened when he stepped away. And deep down, no matter how much I hated it, I knew— If I didn't do something… If I didn't face this… I might spend the rest of my life orbiting a creature I wanted nothing to do with.
My mother pulled back, brushing my hair from my face.
"Come inside," she said gently.
I nodded. We walked into the house together. The door closed behind us. But even inside, even wrapped in warm lights and familiar walls— I could still feel it.
Him. Not near. But not far enough.