"Zamora, wake up! How long do you plan to sleep?!"
A sharp, familiar voice cut through the stillness, jolting Zamora's eyes open. She blinked against the dimness of her room, curtains drawn aside though outside it was already night.
Sitting up on her bed, she gazed blankly around, trying to convince herself this was really her room—not some figment of her imagination.
Damn it! That nightmare again, she cursed silently, rubbing her face roughly.
But then a burning pain flared on her neck, making her gasp in shock. She touched the spot and felt the sting of a fresh burn.
"Oh my God! What is this? What happened? Was that real? Not just a dream?"
Rushing to the mirror, she caught sight of a dark reddish mark etched on her slender neck.
"Why won't this go away?" she whispered in panic, gently rubbing the mark with trembling fingers.
She squinted, trying to decipher the tiny script embedded within the mark. But the letters were too small, blurred and unreadable.
"What did he do to me?" Zamora's voice cracked as tears slipped down her cheeks.
Crash!
"Zamora! Didn't you hear me calling you?!" Aunt Merry's sharp voice snapped from the doorway, where she now stood with hands on her hips after pushing the door open roughly.
"What are you doing?" Aunt Merry demanded, eyes narrowing as she saw Zamora standing frozen before the mirror, her hand still pressed to her neck.
"N-nothing, Auntie. I—"
"What are you hiding on your neck? Show me!" Aunt Merry ordered, stepping closer.
Slowly, Zamora lowered her hand, revealing the stubborn mark she had been trying to erase. Aunt Merry's brow furrowed as she stared intently at the pale skin.
"You're just worrying me. Don't do anything strange outside!" Aunt Merry warned, then turned abruptly toward the door.
"Auntie, didn't you see this?" Zamora asked, confused by her aunt's indifferent reaction.
"What should I see? There's nothing on your neck. Want me to compliment your fair skin? Ridiculous!" Aunt Merry grumbled with a scowl.
"Now go change and wash the dishes. They've been calling your name for ages," she said, striding away.
"Auntie!" Zamora called again.
"What now?" Aunt Merry snapped back.
"W-why am I in my room?" Zamora asked cautiously.
"Because you came in here yourself. Don't you remember when you got home?" Aunt Merry asked, frowning when Zamora shook her head.
"You came home carrying roses, remember? They're by your bedside," Aunt Merry pointed toward a small basket holding several rose stems.
Zamora stared at the basket, feeling a strange disconnect. She hadn't brought any flowers back from the mountain trip.
"How could I have brought those home? I got scolded for picking just one flower," she thought bitterly, unaware that Aunt Merry was watching her with a strange look.
"Zamora! What's wrong with you? Go wash the dishes, we're having dinner soon!" Aunt Merry shouted, snapping Zamora out of her thoughts.
"Y-yes, Auntie. I'll change first," Zamora stammered.
Honestly, she was caught somewhere between belief and disbelief about everything she'd just seen. Was she still dreaming?
"That girl is getting stranger by the day. I don't understand her at all," Aunt Merry muttered as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Zamora stared back at the mirror. "What did you do to me? Why did you put this mark on me?"
Suddenly, a chilling memory surfaced—her aunt's earlier words.
"Aunt Merry didn't see the mark? But why?"
Fear crept back over her, consuming her thoughts. She regretted ever stepping into that mysterious flower garden. How could such a place even exist deep in the forest, where no one ever ventured?
"From now on, you belong to me and always will, Zamora. No matter how far you run, I will find you. I have chosen you to bear my offspring, and you cannot refuse. Now, come home!"
She shuddered recalling the hooded man's whisper before losing consciousness and waking here, in her own room. Covering her trembling mouth with her hand, Zamora's heart pounded wildly.
Her emotions swirled in turmoil. She couldn't believe what had just happened.
"Damn it! Why me? Why not some other woman? Why choose me?! I'm not even happy, and you want to destroy my life even more?!" she screamed at her reflection, furious she hadn't confronted the creature directly but too scared to meet it again.
"Why does no one care about my life? Why does everyone want to make me suffer?!" she yelled before collapsing onto the floor.
Losing her parents at a young age had shattered her world, and her aunt had never shown her any love.
"Argh! It hurts! What is this?" she groaned, clutching her neck as the sharp pain returned.
"Zamora! Are you trying to get locked outside? Hurry and wash the dishes! You—" Aunt Merry stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Zamora sprawled on the floor, groaning in pain.
"Hey! What's wrong with you? Zamora!" Aunt Merry rushed forward, panic rising.
Smack!
A sharp slap landed on Zamora's cheek, instantly silencing her.
"Alright, tell me what's going on! Don't scare me like this! I won't have demons in my house!"
Aunt Merry's words stunned Zamora, who looked up at the worried woman. Slowly, her vision blurred and darkness claimed her once again.
"The man… he's a demon," Zamora thought before slipping back into unconsciousness.
"Zamora! Wake up! Oh my God, she's possessed! Come on, wake up!" Aunt Merry repeatedly tapped her cheek.
"Did I hit her too hard?" she wondered guiltily. "What have I done? Hey, Zamora! Please wake up!"
—
Zamora didn't go to school that day. She sat silently in her room, lost in a haze as if depressed. After fainting the night before, her body temperature had spiked; she was feverish.
Click.
The door opened quietly, and Aunt Merry appeared with a tray holding a glass of water and a plate of food.
"You're awake? Come, eat. I made porridge for you," the worried woman said softly.
"No need, Auntie. I'm fine," Zamora replied with a weary glance.
"Don't talk back! You need to eat this to get better," Aunt Merry insisted.
"Thank you, Auntie," Zamora murmured, accepting the bowl and feeding herself slowly.
"Let me know if you need anything else," Aunt Merry said before leaving the room.
Alone again, Zamora's long lashes framed eyes staring out the open window where sunlight spilled into her room.
"What exactly is that creature?" she wondered aloud, sighing deeply. She felt utterly exhausted.
---
Elsewhere, the handsome figure of a man draped in a deep crimson robe trimmed with black entered a grand chamber in his castle.
This was the hall of the Incubus and Succubus leaders, and the man seated himself on a throne.
"Dante, how's the girl? Have you marked her yet?" asked another striking man who appeared out of nowhere.
"Done," Dante replied curtly.
"Excellent. I never thought you'd actually find a girl to bear your children," the newcomer laughed.
"Brother, is she beautiful?" asked a tan-skinned Incubus with a bright grin.
"Very," Dante said with a faint smile.
"Beautiful or not, she's still a very annoying girl! I don't like her!" grumbled another Incubus who had been silently sitting on his throne.
"You'd better keep quiet, Eden. I didn't ask for your opinion on my chosen girl," Dante snapped sharply.
"Save your words. I won't let you touch her," he continued, teeth clenched.
"Wow, calm down. Do you like her?" Eden smirked.
Dante said nothing. Meanwhile, a Succubus nearby watched him with a displeased glare.
"You shouldn't linger here. Mate with her and produce our offspring," said an Incubus with ocean-blue eyes flatly, clearly uninterested in the argument.
"I know! Don't interfere, Mike! Mind your own girl," Dante growled, annoyed at the interruption.
"Alright, just a reminder. You spend too much time playing when you should be finding a nest. If she can't bear children, then eliminate her!" Mike said with a smile, enjoying Dante's rising anger.
Dante's jaw clenched tighter, while Mike grinned triumphantly.
Arguments between siblings weren't just common in the human world, but in the Incubus realm as well. Dante and Mike were brothers who never saw eye to eye—and then there was Eden, who always annoyed Dante.
---
Zamora lay on her bed, eyes heavy but afraid to sleep. She dreaded the nightmares that had haunted her the past few nights, nearly losing her sanity.
Time and again, she forced herself not to rest her head on the pillow, fighting the pull back into that otherworldly place.
"Don't sleep! I mustn't sleep," she muttered repeatedly, forcing her eyes open.
A knock at the window distracted her attention.
She gasped when a face suddenly appeared, peering in with a mischievous smile.
Quickly, Zamora reached under her pillow for a talisman she'd kept since childhood—though lately, she had neglected it.
"Argh! It burns!" she cried, clutching her neck where the pain blazed anew. The tighter she gripped the talisman, the hotter the burn became.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Dante's voice snapped as he suddenly appeared beside her.
His gaze was unreadable until his eyes glowed a fiery red—an eerie contrast to their usual blue.
Fear gripped Zamora, but she mustered her remaining courage to face the demon.
"I know who you are! I won't die at the hands of a demon like you! You disgusting devil! What have you done to me?" she yelled.
"You're the most vile demon I know!"
Dante said nothing, simply watching her rant.
"I won't bear your offspring! I refuse!" she screamed.
"I have chosen you. Whether you like it or not, you will obey," he said coldly.
"You don't know my life is already shattered! And now you come to make it worse? God will curse you for breaking an orphan's heart! You wicked demon!"
"Enough, Miss Zamora. I do not wish to destroy you. I only want to borrow you to bear the children of my kind," Dante said softly.
"You heartless monster! You—"
His eyes flared brighter. Was he angry? Or something else? Zamora didn't know.
"What did you say? Heartless monster?" Dante snarled, revealing sharp fangs.
I'm doomed, Zamora thought.
He slowly leaned forward, teeth bared toward her neck. She was frozen, unable to move or even close her eyes. Forced to watch what was coming.
Crash!
"Zamora! Why are you screaming like that?"
Aunt Merry appeared, scolding as Dante vanished. Zamora began to move again, tears streaming uncontrollably, leaving Aunt Merry utterly baffled. Zamora longed to tell her everything, but knew her aunt would never believe a word.