Darkness.
That was the first thing Lena noticed. It wasn't the kind of darkness that came with nightfall, nor the comforting kind that accompanied sleep. This was different. Heavier. Suffocating.
The air around her was thick, pressing against her chest as if trying to crush the breath from her lungs. She wasn't in the alley anymore. The cold rain, the flickering streetlights, the distant hum of the city—they were gone.
Instead, she stood in an unfamiliar space.
The floor beneath her was smooth, like polished obsidian. Shadows coiled at the edges of her vision, shifting as though alive. In the distance, torches flickered along towering stone pillars, their eerie crimson flames the only source of light.
Where am I?
Her pulse thundered as her gaze darted around, searching for an escape.
Then—footsteps.
Slow. Measured. A sound that sent ice through her veins.
She turned sharply, and there he was.
The Devil's son.
He walked toward her, unhurried and composed, as though he had all the time in the world. His long black coat billowed behind him, and in the dim glow of the torches, his golden eyes gleamed like fire trapped beneath his irises.
"You're awake," he mused, stopping just a few feet away.
Lena took a shaky breath. "Where am I?"
A smirk curved his lips. "Somewhere between your world and mine."
His world. The meaning behind his words settled uneasily in her chest.
She wasn't in the mortal realm anymore.
"Why am I here?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady.
"You agreed to a deal," he reminded her. "Now, it must be sealed."
A chill swept through her. She remembered the moment clearly—the desperation, the impossible choice, the weight of her brother's life in her hands. She had said yes.
But she hadn't asked how the deal would be sealed.
Lena swallowed. "What do I have to do?"
The Devil's son studied her for a moment before lifting his hand.
Shadows swirled around his fingers before taking shape. A parchment appeared in his grasp, old and worn, yet the ink on it gleamed as if freshly written.
Even from where she stood, she could see the contract was written in a language she didn't recognize. The letters twisted and shifted, as though alive.
But one section stood out—her name.
It was there, bold and clear, untouched by the shifting ink.
Her stomach clenched.
"What's in the contract?" she asked.
The Devil's son tilted his head. "The terms of our agreement."
Lena hesitated. "You never told me what happens after I give you what you want."
His lips twitched. "Clever."
He took a step closer, and she fought the urge to move back.
"Once your brother is cured," he said smoothly, "your soul belongs to me."
Lena's breath hitched. "What does that mean?"
"It means that when your time in the mortal world ends, your soul will return to me. You will be bound to me, in life and beyond."
Her stomach churned. Bound to him? Forever?
"That wasn't part of the deal," she whispered.
His golden eyes darkened, though his expression remained unreadable. "It was implied."
She clenched her fists. "And if I refuse?"
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Then Caleb dies."
Lena's heart twisted painfully.
There was no way out. No loophole. No second chance.
She had known, the moment she spoke those words in the alley, that she was making a mistake.
But she would make it again if it meant saving Caleb.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the parchment.
The Devil's son extended a small dagger toward her. Its handle was obsidian, and its blade glowed faintly with a crimson hue.
"A deal with my kind is not sealed with ink," he said. "It is sealed in blood."
Lena hesitated. "You want me to—"
"Sign with your blood," he confirmed.
The weight of the moment pressed down on her. This was it. The final step.
With a deep breath, she took the dagger. It was unexpectedly warm against her palm. She turned her hand over, pressing the tip of the blade against her skin.
A sharp sting. A single drop of blood welled up from the cut, trailing down her finger.
Before she could second-guess herself, she pressed her bleeding fingertip against the parchment, right below her name.
The moment her blood touched the paper, the ink flared a deep, fiery red. The letters twisted, locking into place as the contract absorbed her mark.
A sharp gust of wind whipped through the chamber.
The torches burned brighter. The air around her vibrated with unseen energy.
And then—a searing pain shot through her hand.
Lena gasped, clutching her wrist as heat spread up her arm, burning into her very soul. It felt as if something was embedding itself into her.
She gritted her teeth, fighting against the urge to scream. It hurt.
And just as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped.
Lena staggered, her breath ragged. She looked down at her wrist.
A mark.
It was faint, like a shadow just beneath her skin, but it was there—a strange symbol, dark and intricate, etched into her flesh.
Her pulse pounded. "What… what is this?"
The Devil's son watched her, satisfaction gleaming in his golden eyes. "A mark of the pact."
Lena swallowed hard. "What does it mean?"
"It means that your soul is now bound to me," he said simply.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She had done it. There was no turning back now.
The Devil's son extended his hand. "Your brother will be healed by sunrise."
Lena didn't take his hand. Instead, she forced herself to look him in the eye.
"What happens now?" she asked, voice quieter than before.
His smirk returned. "Now, you go home. For now."
Her breath hitched at the finality in his tone. For now.
He was giving her time, but not freedom.
Lena clenched her jaw and took a step back. The shadows around them thickened, curling around her like smoke.
And then—
The world shifted.
A rush of wind. A sensation of falling.
And suddenly, she was back in the alleyway.
The rain still fell. The street lamp still flickered.
But something was different.
The air felt heavier. The mark on her wrist burned faintly. And deep in her chest, she felt it—a connection.
She wasn't alone anymore.
Sh
e belonged to something far greater.
And she had just sold her soul to the Devil's son.