Tonights song is "Control" – Halsey, hope you guys like it
ENJOY
The glowing garden path led both Vosky and i into a smaller, secluded part of the grounds—a place that made the hairs on my spine practically do a synchronized panic dance.
Call me dramatic, but the whole area looked suspiciously like a sacrificial site. I'm all for scientific progress and the occasional pagan aesthetic, but I draw the line at standing in what could easily pass as a ceremonial slaughter circle. Just a personal boundary.
The flowers behind us stopped glowing the second we stepped off the path.
Not dimmed. Not faded. Just—off. Like they had guided us to this place and wanted nothing more to do with us.Charming.
Ahead stood a structure that looked like it crawled straight out of some ancient nightmare—a shrine built by forgotten gods with a flair for the theatrical. Arched ceilings loomed overhead, covered in hanging vines and time-eaten stone. The walls cracked like they were whispering old secrets, and a gaping hole in the roof let moonlight bleed through like some cosmic eye was watching.
The air shifted—thicker, colder, older. Sacred? Maybe. Cursed? Probably.
In the center of it all was a sunken circular platform, layered in descending steps like a ceremonial pit. The stone shimmered under the moonlight, slick with something that looked suspiciously magical and very much not OSHA-approved. Runes carved into the floor pulsed faintly as I stepped on them, humming like something alive was breathing beneath it.
Yep. Magic. Big, undeniable magic.
I did a quick headcount. Fifteen people. Not counting the guards standing ominously at every corner like silent warnings.
Still no Alex.Great.
Once everyone had shuffled in, two guards posted themselves at the only entrance. Not just standing there—blocking. Like "no one goes in, and absolutely no one crawls out."
So that's comforting.
Three robed figures stood in a triangle at the center, their black garments flowing like smoke. No light illuminated the room, except for the three pitiful little candles they each held. And somehow... it was enough.
Voksy nudged me toward a corner, and I followed. Every group of people seemed to instinctively choose a spot behind one of the hooded figures—five behind each. Neat. Creepy. Cult-like.
I spotted Louise across the room, looking as chill as a man can look in a room that absolutely screams "blood sacrifice incoming."
"Voksy," I whispered, leaning closer.
He glanced at me with his usual 'what now' face.
"Is it starting? Or are we just pre-haunted?"
"Not yet. The moon must be exactly above the center of the circle."
I looked up.Pretty sure it was already above us.
"It must align with the circle, princess."
I looked back down at the etched stone, then back up at the moon.Still above us. Still confused.
But fine. Moon math.
"Hey, they're not actually gonna kill anyone, right?" I tried for sarcasm, but it came out a little too hopeful.
"Only the ones who ask too many questions," he replied flatly.
Ah. So that was his charming way of telling me to shut up.
I gave him a highly offended look. He smiled. Barely.
Then the humming started. All three robed figures dropped their hoods, revealing... well, more shadows and vague old-man mystique. They began to chant.
"The moon is in place," Voksy muttered.
The language was foreign, sharp like stone breaking underwater. The kind of sound that didn't hit your ears—it went through you.
And then it got worse.
The chanting had just begun when I heard it.
Footsteps.
Not just me—everyone turned toward the entrance. And by "everyone," I mean even the guards were suddenly… gone.
Poof. Vanished. Not a shadow of them left.
I squinted into the dim doorway. Two massive silhouettes approached—one towering, the other tall but sharp.
Booth. And Alex.
Fantastic.
They moved with the kind of confidence that only comes from either being very powerful or very stupid. Knowing them? Probably both.
They stepped into the circle and everything stopped.
The humming. The whispers. The air.
Alex raised his hand and began to speak in that same eerie language:
"Dah'rak vel oneth, sevrim'a tal'dorak. Kren vah dor'mak al thessek, ahn'vel drakth."
Great. He speaks demon. Of course he does.
"Ther'val shanak, droth meer ven'sha tal'kaan. No'dor vi kres'tan valin'kai — shev'anar Celestor."
Still chanting. Still no subtitles. Everyone else seemed perfectly okay with this—nodding along like they actually understood.
"Vek'ra nox'thal, wehn drav'kai ven or'vahl."
Yeah, whatever that means, it doesn't sound friendly.
Then he looked at me.
His eyes locked with mine and I swear my skin started burning. Not metaphorically. Literally—like his gaze had its own temperature setting and it was stuck on "incinerate."
"What is he saying?" I whispered to Voksy.
"It's the language of the underworld, princess," he said. "The king is initiating the ritual."
Ah, okay. No biggie. Just underworld king speak in a cursed garden.
Then Alex said the final line:
"Thes'sal vori'an or'mek vel'Kraith."
This time, it wasn't just him.Everyone repeated the words.
Even Voksy.
And me? Yeah, still very much not included in the loop.
Suddenly, everyone bowed. Like full-body-on-the-floor kind of bowing. And the humming started again—but this time, it was deeper, slower, like it came from inside the earth.
I bowed too. Kind of. More like a "respectful squat of confusion."
My head stayed low, but from the eerie glow creeping into the room, I could tell something new had entered.
And then came the scream.
One single, raw, blood-curdling scream that echoed off the stone. I flinched so hard I nearly lost my balance. And honestly, same energy.
Voksy's hand reached over and grabbed mine. A quick nod from him—like "Don't panic, this is normal."
Normal?In what universe is that normal?
I looked at him, and he gave me what was probably meant to be a comforting smile.
It looked more like a grimace.
"Vah'sin or'kai Virel'tar."
That phrase was the cue. Heads slowly lifted. The humming stopped.
And I would love to say I didn't scream.But I'd be lying.
It started with a light.
Soft. Blue. Floating.
At first I thought I was hallucinating, but then another appeared. Then another. The tiny lights drifted in through the entrance, dancing like fireflies—if fireflies were born from stardust and sorcery.
And then one of them descended.
It floated—not flew, floated—into the center of the ritual circle like it owned the place. Which, honestly, it probably did.
It was tiny, no larger than my palm, and it looked like someone had plucked it straight from a constellation. Its wings shimmered like stained glass dipped in nebula dust, glimmering with deep violets and ethereal greens. Its body was pure void—starless midnight with scattered specks of light that moved when it did.
Antlers—no, antennae—curved from its head like delicate branches, each tip aglow with tiny celestial dots. It didn't flap its wings. It just… hovered. Like gravity was a myth and it refused to believe in it.
Even Voksy was staring now. Wide-eyed. Silent.
The little thing hovered above the circle, paused midair, and slowly tilted its head—at me.
Of course it did.
And as if that wasn't enough, the moment it looked my way, the light it gave off intensified, spreading across the room in delicate shimmers. Magic bloomed in the air, thick and heavy with unspoken meaning.
It wasn't just a creature.It was a herald.
One by one, everyone bowed again—this time facing the circle, facing it. The chanting changed—deeper, darker. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone alone felt like it was unraveling my nerves.
I dipped my head again, stealing glances where I could. Everyone's heads were down—no one was watching. No one could see what came next.
But I did.
Something moved.
Something massive.
A low growl rumbled through the air, so deep I felt it more than heard it. Then came the steps. Heavy. Uneven. Wet.
My eyes snapped to the circle.
And that's when it stepped into the light.
The creature was massive. Four legs, jagged and heavy, like obsidian cracked with red. Its fur was a rotting midnight, broken by glowing veins that pulsed like slow-burning embers under skin.
And it had three heads.
Three snarling, blood-drenched, nightmare-inducing heads.
Each eye glowed hollow and white, and from every eye socket—blood. Thick, constant streams pouring like tears, pooling into puddles that hissed and burned against the stone. The smell alone made my stomach twist.
The center head lifted and locked eyes with me.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
Its breaths were ragged, labored, and somehow… ancient. Spikes like shattered swords jutted from its shoulders. The clicking sound underneath it—like bone grinding against bone—echoed through the room.
I stepped back, instinctively.
"What the f—what is that?!" I hissed to Voksy.
He didn't blink."Don't be scared, princess. It's just the Cerberus."
Just the what now?
I looked around in a panic.Booth was gone.
Gone.
I turned back to the creature, heart now officially malfunctioning.
"Wait… is that—?"
Voksy nodded once.
Yep.
Booth.Was now that.
Great.
Awesome.
If Booth was already terrifying on four legs and a mood swing, this version of him was a horror movie reboot—darker, bloodier, and definitely not rated PG.
And then all three of his heads turned to me.
Simultaneously.
Nope.
Nope nope nope.
I took a deep breath, plastered a very fake sense of calm on my face, and tried to look unfazed.
Judging by Voksy's expression, I was failing miserably.
And then—because apparently we hadn't hit peak nightmare yet—Alex stepped forward.
One of the robed men handed him a blade. It was dark, jagged, ceremonial. The kind of knife you don't use to cut cake unless the cake is cursed.
And without hesitation, Alex sliced open his palm.
My eyes widened so fast I nearly dislocated something.
"Is he insane?!"
I stepped forward, but Voksy's arm blocked me.
"Don't even think about it."
"Voksy, what the hell—"
"It's part of the ritual."
Ritual. Right. Just a casual, blood-letting, hand-mangling ritual.
Alex didn't even flinch. Of course he didn't.
I narrowed my eyes. I was definitely checking that wound later.
He turned to Booth—sorry, Cerberus Booth—and pressed his bloody hand to the creature's central head, drawing a symbol across its forehead. A symbol that began to glow the moment it was complete.
Then everything went silent.
I mean dead silent.
No voices.No breathing.No wind.
Just stillness. Pure, choking, unnatural stillness.
And then the shadows moved.
The shadows moved.
No, not moved—collapsed. Folded in. Swirled together like ink pulled into a drain, spiraling toward the circle.
They weren't just shadows anymore. They had weight. Direction. Purpose.
And then it stepped out.
Or… was born.
From the center of the darkness, a figure emerged. Towering, twisted, and utterly wrong. It didn't walk. It didn't glide. It just existed forward, pulled from the bones of the room like it had always been here—waiting.
Its form was barely solid, like smoke trying to remember how to be a body. Its eyes were voids—violet and burning, hungry in a way that made my stomach churn.
It didn't speak.
Didn't growl.
Just watched.
And with every blink, the temperature in the room dropped. The air thinned. I could feel it in my chest like a second heartbeat that wasn't mine.
Its hand gripped a jagged weapon, not made of steel or bone—just shadow, solidified into something hateful.
I stumbled back, breath catching in my throat.
The shadows on the ground coiled around my ankles like snakes. Not grabbing me—recognizing me.
Voksy muttered a curse under his breath.
Louise? Still as a statue. No smirk. No charm. Just… dread.
And then, with the grace of a falling guillotine, the creature took a step forward.
Silence shattered.
I turned to Voksy—ready to beg for an explanation.
He wasn't there.
No one was.
Everyone was gone.
The room was empty. The guards. The robed men. Booth. Alex.
All gone.
Panic surged through me, sharp and cold.
The remaining shadows—dozens of them—began folding inward. Funneling into the center of the space. They rose like smoke, twisted like storm clouds, and then…
The air split.
Like reality tore down the middle and didn't bother to stitch itself back up.
She rose.
Taller than anything human should be, her form was made of absence. Hair that moved like water in a vacuum. Skin like black flame. Her lower body coiled into a whirlpool of violet shadow, pulling light into it and giving none back.
Her face—if you could call it that—was dual.
On one side: haunting beauty, high cheekbones, violet eyes burning with ancient power. A crown sat upon her head, jagged and dark, pulsing like it was alive.
The other side?Faceless.Smooth, terrifyingly blank, save for one single glowing slit that blinked vertically, like a serpent's eye from a godless dimension.
Her hands moved slowly, like she had all the time in the world. Or like time bent for her.
And when her fingers reached toward me, something in the room shifted again. Not the air.
Me.
My limbs locked. My breath froze. I couldn't move.
She stepped closer—her shadow touching mine. And my shadow… responded.
It stretched. Moved. Reached back.
Her fingers touched my face, one on each cheek.
My eyes flew open.
She was right there.
Her two hands around my face like she was holding something precious. Or fragile. Or hers.
Her merged face now centered—elegant and inhuman. A glowing diamond burned on her forehead, her violet eyes staring straight into mine.
"What… what are you doing?" I whispered, voice barely hanging together.
"It wasn't supposed to end like this," she whispered, voice layered, feminine and fractured.
I blinked.
Gone.
She was gone.
Just like that.
After the ceremony...
I stood at a quiet corner inside the castle hall. Most of the guests had already left. The candles were lower now, casting shadows that felt a little too familiar after what I'd just witnessed.
I'd said goodbye to Voksy and Louise. The latter had muttered something about "pressing matters," and for once, I didn't press for details. I had enough to chew on.
My brain was on overload. And the weirdest part?
The dream.
That dream I had before. About the child. About the shadows.And now… this.
"It wasn't supposed to end like this."
Those words looped in my head, like a record stuck on a single line of a very cursed song. The voice hadn't just sounded ominous—it had sounded heartbroken.
Almost... familiar.
"Is everything alright, Lilith?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Gods!" I gasped, turning to find Alex at my side. Of course. Always appearing when I'm about to spiral.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused."Sorry," I muttered, "I was just... thinking."
"About?"
"Nothing important," I lied way too quickly.Then I remembered something very important.
"Why the hell did you cut yourself?" I asked, whirling to face him.
He blinked. "What?"
"You know what I mean! The knife, the blood, the no flinching like an actual human being."
"It was part of the ritual," he said, with that classic I'm-too-cold-to-care tone.
"Okay, but have you even disinfected the damn thing? Or had it checked?"
I eyed the bandaged hand. It looked awful. Of course he hadn't.
"Mhm." He took a step closer. "Are you… worried about me?"
He tilted his head, his voice teasing but low, soft in a way that made my pulse skip.
"Ha! Don't flatter yourself." I scoffed. "I'd say the same to anyone who decides self-harm is a cute party trick."
He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The coldness was creeping back in.
Great. Mood whiplash.
So, I grabbed his other hand and dragged him toward the kitchen. He followed without resistance—like it was perfectly normal for me to hijack his evening.
Inside, I rummaged through cabinets for a first aid kit. I was pretty sure Ms. Adele had something tucked in here.
But Alex still wouldn't let go of my hand.
I stopped. Looked at it. Then up at him.
"Would you mind?" I asked, gesturing toward our linked hands.
He shook his head, that half-smile returning.
"I don't know. I don't feel like letting go."
I rolled my eyes. "I need both hands, genius."
He still didn't let go.
Asshole.
And then, he tugged me closer.
"Wh—Alex, what the fuck—" I gasped as my back hit the counter.
He didn't touch me beyond the hand still holding mine. But his proximity was lethal. His gaze dark, unreadable.
"How did you feel?" he asked quietly.
"What?"
"During the ceremony. How did you feel?"
"Fine."A lie. A terrible one.
He studied me. Brow furrowing.
"Did something happen?"
Why the sudden interrogation? I yanked my hand free and turned to crouch near the lower cabinets.
"I'm fine," I said. "Stop acting like you're worried."
Bingo. I found the bandages.
He said nothing as I stood, but his eyes followed every movement.
"Now," I said, grabbing his injured hand gently. "Let me see it."
"Lilith, it's just a scratch."
"Don't care. Give me your hand."
He sighed but complied. And when I unwrapped the cloth, I saw more than just one cut.
There were older scars. Thin, straight. Repeated.
"Alex… why—?"
"Don't worry about it."
His voice was clipped. Firm.
So, I didn't push. Not yet.
I cleaned the wound, trying not to think about the way he watched me—closely. Like he was memorizing my face. Like I was some kind of answer to a question he didn't dare ask.
After bandaging him (badly), I stepped back.
"Voilà," I said. "Professional medical services by yours truly."
He glanced at his hand. "Is this… a bandage?"
"I barely passed anatomy class, alright?"
A rare thing happened.
He smiled.
Not smirked. Not sneered. Smiled. Soft. Real.
I smiled back, maybe a little too brightly.
But then… his eyes changed.
Something flickered in them—sadness?
"What's wrong?" I asked, frowning.
"You should go to your room."
Ouch.
That came out of nowhere.
"I'm not tired."
"Maybe not physically," he said, tone cooler again, "but ceremonies like this drain spiritual energy. Especially for first-timers."
"Right. Of course. 'Go to bed, Lilith.' Got it."
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw another dimension.
"What about a walk?" I offered casually. "The garden's still lit. Thought I'd walk around before they take it all down."
"I'll call one of the maids to escort you—"
"Its pretty late, best would be to let them rest"
His jaw tightened
"Forget it." I sighed. "I'll just go to my room."
"Sleep well lilith"
Of course.
I stormed off without looking back. I had no idea why I was so mad. Maybe I just hated rejection. Or maybe…
Maybe it was because he was finally getting close, and then he did what he always did: pulled away.
Back in my room, I changed into something soft and collapsed onto the bed.
The stars glimmered beyond the window, the moon a silver coin pressed against the velvet sky.
But my thoughts weren't on the stars.
They were on her.
That voice. That creature.That warning.
"It wasn't supposed to end like this."
Those words echoed in my head, louder than before.
My heart thumped harder.
That wasn't a threat.
It was a regret.
A memory?
I whispered into the night, "Gods, my life's a mess. I'm dreaming about children, shadows are talking to me, and now I'm crushing on a bloodstained psychopath who can't hold a conversation."
I sighed.
"Perfect."
I have more questions but zero awnsers
Fucking perfect