Chapter 23

" S krain, you piece of shit! Let me out!"

My voice was hoarse from screaming, my hands bruised from hammering against the inside of the bedroom door. The bandage around my palm donned a red stain, implying the wound from the ritual had started bleeding again. This time, it seemed the few hours I was asleep from his poison weren't long enough to heal it.

Hot pressure built behind my eyes as I held back angry tears. I stomped to the balcony door, yanking on the handle.

Locked, too.

"Damn."

I shook my head. What would I have done, even if I got outside? Jump from the Creators damned second floor? No, I wouldn't do him the favor of dying. I'd find a way to escape, and live— happily —just to fucking spite him.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen that icy tightness crushing my heart. One hand on my stomach, my breath hitched far too close to a sob.

How could he do this to me ?

Bile surged in my throat as I thought about how Skrain made my pulse race, how much I had craved his touch and his affection. How fast and hard I had fallen for him.

Images of the wedding flashed in my mind. His tears. His vow. A crimson print of his hand on my shoe. Then my death. A sanguine stain tinting his tunic I wore while I bled out. While I burned.

I flinched. Sadness wouldn't serve me. I didn't have the luxury of wallowing in my misery, of trying to count the pieces of my broken heart.

So long as I was Skrain's prisoner, I was in danger. Who knew what awful plans he had for me?

Teeth gritted, I walked to the dresser and opened every drawer, digging through them. Next, I rummaged through the wardrobe. I found nothing but clothes—his and mine—spare towels and bed linen.

I scoffed, padding to the bed, and dropped onto the mattress. Cradling my head in my hands, I stared at the ground, toes curling into the soft carpet.

After waking alone in the mansion's master bedroom—a replica of the very place I'd died—I hadn't given myself time to think about anything else apart from Skrain's betrayal. About escape.

But as I sat, defeated, it struck me how easily I'd shed my fake name, like skin that never truly fit. Ella didn't exist anymore—if she'd ever really existed at all.

I had only reclaimed a fraction of my memories, but I felt like myself . Like Keryssa.

Capable. Confident.

Though I didn't remember what it was like to be dead, knowing I had died once before made me see everything in a different light. I guessed I should've felt heavy or melancholic, but instead, I wanted to grasp life with both hands, soak up every moment—and that included escaping the gilded cage Skrain put me in.

Being dead lets you live again.

And then there was that magic inside me, the subtle thrum beneath my blood, ebbing and rising at my command. It was almost like a drug. Euphoric.

I'd assumed that if my powers returned, I'd need a period of readjustment. Maybe I'd feel overwhelmed. Or underwhelmed.

But the sensation was fulfilling. Just right, as if a part of me I didn't know was missing had been restored. As if my magic was never really gone, only hiding until I was ready to wield it once more.

I felt complete .

An idea struck my mind like a lightning storm.

I yanked up my dress, pulling my panties aside. The rings in my nipples and the piercing above my clit had been changed to pure gold. No gems.

Skrain had thought this through. He must have sensed the stirring magic in me, and with my specialization in gem enchantments, I was a flight risk if he'd left any jewels on my person or in the room.

I remembered that I was able to apply a few other enchantments on objects made from metal and ore, like increasing the durability of armor and sharpness of a blade, but at a much lower quality and efficiency. Either way, I had nothing to help my escape. And even if I acquired some jewels, most intricate spells needed more ingredients.

But there was something else I remembered.

My throat thickened.

The soulstone spell I'd found before I died.

I'd enchanted plenty of normal soulstones in my past life, the kind that imprisons mortal souls or harnesses and drains a demon's magic until they perish. But this one was a revolutionary concept.

The words … I knew they were there. They drifted just out of reach, my fingertips brushing along the letters like a hidden treasure. Seeds buried deep in the soil of my memories.

An ache built behind my forehead, and I pressed a palm to it.

I dug through my recollection of the visions. The moment I stormed into the bedroom, the music box in my hands. How I'd gone to bed the night of my death. Every syllable must have been fresh in my mind then.

All I needed was to grasp them.

As if hypnotized, I stood. My feet steered me to the chest of drawers, my fingers sliding along the smooth wood of the music box. I opened it.

The spinning figures popped up, and the room around me wavered. I couldn't tear my eyes from them, going round and round and round. All I could see were the dancers with their bright robes and gem-filled hands, moving to the cheerful melody.

Each note was a bell strike inside my skull.

I listened, turning every piece of that vision over like a stone. The more the fog of my memories lifted, the faster my pulse thundered.

The eternal silence of the faithful dead.

The royal blood of a broken heart.

An innocent man's earnest guilt.

I stuttered a breath. That was it! These were?—

"Keryssa," a deep voice crooned.

I startled, snapping the box shut, and my mind catapulted back to the present.

The light had dimmed, as if the rays of the setting sun bounced off a gloomy cloud around the bed. A shiver working its frigid way down my spine.

"Who's there? Skrain, if that's you, I'm not in the mood for games. Show yourself so I can tear your Creators damned head off!"

"I think it's time I introduced myself," that same voice said, and the obscure shadows floated to the door.

I rubbed my eyes as it took on a grotesque, humanoid shape.

Sharp thorns grew all over the creature's body, glistening with green venom as they writhed. Its arms and legs were too spindly and thin, just like its clawed fingers. Its bald head was too large, and in place of a face, it had a swirling vortex of umbral mass.

Nausea bubbled in my belly, the offensive reek of sulfur and wet, rotten earth tingling in my nostrils. The longer I looked at the monster, the worse I felt, dizziness hitting me like a punch to the jaw.

"I'm certain Skrain has spoken of me. The man likes to run his mouth, after all," the creature said, and though there was no way of telling, I simply knew he was grinning. "Name's Aculeus. Charmed, I'm sure."

His demon .

I resisted the urge to shrink as the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Instead, I reminded myself of the first rule I'd learned when I began my studies on demonology in my first life:

Don't show fear .

Before my death, part of my spare time research had included minor demonology, and while Zeridia didn't outright forbid demonic magic, it was strictly regulated by laws. Xar'vath, on the other hand, was a treasure trove of free-flowing knowledge on the topic. I'd dealt with a couple of summonings, imps, and a few other lesser spawns, but no one like Aculeus, no one this powerful. His aura alone was oppressive, making it hard to concentrate.

"So you're the one who saved Skrain's life?" I snorted, fighting against the unease coiling through me as I crossed my arms.

He dipped into a slow bow. "Indeed."

"Well, you shouldn't have," I spat.

Aculeus snickered, an abrasive rumble. He gestured at me. "I saved you , too. Maybe you should be at least a little grateful."

"You did an awful job if it took my soul this long to be reborn," I countered.

His head cocked, and I felt his invisible gaze scraping along my skin like a cold, dull blade. "Who says that wasn't part of my plan? Who do you think kept your soul from the necromancers in Skrain's employ?"

"I despise riddles. And vague insinuations." I mimicked his movements, tilting my head. "Let's cut to the chase. Why have you decided to show yourself to me?"

"I have just had a very enlightening talk with the man himself. Since he locked you up, Skrain has been sitting out there at the pond, staring into the water. He's quite upset that you don't want him anymore. Heartbroken, really. He told me about your vision. How you said he stabbed you, insulted you, set you aflame. In fact, he couldn't stop talking about it. The man has no shame. What audacity to slaughter you and then act like he is the victim?"

My eyes burned, my stomach twisting. Typical for a demon to pour salt into the wound. I buried the hurt in a deep frown and a sarcastic laugh.

Aculeus straightened, strolling through the room, a trail of whirling shadows following in his wake. He picked at the sheets on the bed. Ran a hand over the top of the dresser, along the incense dish, flicking ashes onto the floor. "What was it again he told you before he burned you? That you were only after his coin? That you were too … needy ?"

I pressed my tongue against my palate, doing everything in my power to keep my silence, even as anger and grief seared my insides. What a violation to tell the demon everything about my vision in such detail.

Aculeus tutted, hands folded at his back as he looked out the window. "Skrain was a monster even before our pact. To murder you in cold blood while you were pining for him, even wearing his tunic so you could feel closer to him while he was gone."

I choked down a sob, blinking the mist from my gaze. "And your point is?" I hissed.

"I think we have something important in common, Keryssa." His voice drifted into a long, dramatic pause until he turned to me. "Our hatred for Skrain."

I let out a hysteric giggle. "I don't know what else he told you about me, but I'm not naive. You don't seem to hate him. If anything, you are his ally because you gave him a part of your powers, extended his lifespan."

Aculeus's chin dropped. "Mortals always jump to conclusions. You lack foresight, fail to acknowledge the bigger picture."

"Selflessness is a foreign concept to demons. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from me. So either say it, or leave me alone," I snapped.

He snickered, the sound like chittering bugs, sending another shudder of goose bumps along my back. "I suppose you and him have something in common, too. You're both stubborn and temperamental."

I pinched my lips, looking at him.

"First, let's talk about what you want, Keryssa." He gestured at the desert beyond the window. "You want to leave here, right?"

I gave a curt nod.

"Say you do manage to flee. He will find you. He did it once, and he will do it again. You can't escape him."

I gritted my teeth. "Let him try then."

"Think of what he's done to you," Aculeus crooned. "Are you really happy with flight? Is that good enough? Do you want to hide, be on the run for the rest of your life?"

"If that's what it takes to?—"

"Don't you want justice , instead?" he interrupted. "Don't you want … revenge ?"