Rain slashed through the sky in jagged sheets as Elena Hart stood at the edge of the decaying chapel ruins that overlooked the city. The place had long been abandoned—burned during the first wave of the civil unrest that now seemed like a prelude to something far worse. She wrapped Damien's coat tighter around her slender frame, though it offered little protection against the cold or the truth she was about to face.
Damien Voss was late.
Elena paced in tight circles, her mind a tempest of questions and memories. Since his reappearance, Damien had become a cipher—every answer he offered opened ten new mysteries. Their alliance had been tenuous at best, born from mutual necessity and layered secrets. But tonight, it was about survival.
A sudden gust of wind tore through the skeleton of the chapel, and Elena turned. From the shadows, Damien emerged, his black coat billowing, boots slapping against the wet stone floor. His face was unreadable as always—serene, almost cruel in its perfection.
"You're late," Elena said, voice brittle.
"I'm always late," he answered with a half-smirk, though his eyes were void of humor. "You should've known that by now."
She turned from him, arms crossed. "I need to know the truth, Damien. About the pact. About what you did to save me."
Damien's expression turned to steel. "I saved you because I had to."
"No," she said, stepping toward him, anger igniting in her veins. "You saved me because you needed me. There's a difference."
He didn't argue. Instead, he walked to the altar—a cracked slab overgrown with vines—and placed a black folder on it. Rain dripped from his hair, his shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice.
"It's all in here," he said.
Elena hesitated, then stepped forward, flipping the folder open. Her breath hitched.
Photos. Documents. Contracts written in ancient dialects. And at the center—her name, signed in red ink.
"What is this?"
"Your soul was traded long before you were born," Damien said. "You're part of an old bloodline, Elena. The Harts were never ordinary. Your grandfather made a deal with the Crimson Order—an ancient faction bound to darkness. In return for power, your family gave up its future lineage."
She stared at the contract, heart pounding. "So I was never meant to live?"
Damien's eyes softened. "You were meant to serve. To be a vessel. But I—"
"You intervened," she whispered.
He nodded. "I made a deal with the Crimson Lord himself. I bought you time. That's why I vanished for years. I had to bargain a new fate."
Elena's legs gave way. She sat on the cracked floor, the folder sliding from her hands. "So I'm just a bargaining chip in a war between devils?"
"No," Damien knelt before her, taking her hands. "You're the weapon no one saw coming."
---
They moved into the ruins' inner chamber, where the air thickened with ancient energy. Sigils glowed faintly beneath the surface—runes etched in stone and blood.
"I need to take you to someone," Damien said. "Someone who can sever the blood tie. But it won't be free."
Elena looked up sharply. "What kind of cost are we talking about?"
"My life," he said simply.
"Don't say things like that."
"It's the only way," he replied. "The Order has called in the favor. In exchange for your freedom, I must return to them. This was always the deal."
Tears streamed down Elena's face, indistinguishable from the rain. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you to try and stop me."
"Damien—"
He touched her cheek gently. "You saved me once, Elena. When I was drowning in shadows, it was you who lit the match. Now let me return the favor."
She grabbed his coat. "I'm not losing you again. We'll find another way."
"There is no other way."
Her scream echoed through the chapel.
---
Later, as they stood atop the highest hill in Hollowmoor, overlooking the burning skyline, Elena turned to him.
"If you go," she said, "I'll come after you."
Damien smiled for the first time that night—a real, heartbroken smile. "Then I'll be waiting."
And with that, he vanished into the darkness, leaving behind only the coat she still wore.