The world didn't come apart all at once.
It leaked.
That was the only way I could describe it—the way my thoughts began slipping through cracks I didn't remember forming. One moment, I was sitting in the dining hall, staring at my hands in horror. The next, something cold unfurled inside my chest, stretching, settling, claiming.
I couldn't scream.
I couldn't move.
But I could hear it.
Such a delicate vessel, the voice purred inside me, smooth and intimate, like it had always lived there. Warm. Aware. Strong in ways even you don't understand.
My breath stuttered.
"No," I whispered, but the word felt distant, like it hadn't come from me at all.
Across from me, Santiago's presence burned bright—sharp, controlled, restrained by will alone. His magic brushed against mine, cautious, as if afraid to shatter me.
The thing inside me laughed.
Careful, heir of Rogan, it said, my lips curving into a smile I did not make. She breaks easily.
Santiago didn't move, but the air around him vibrated faintly. The lanterns flickered. The room seemed to lean inward.
"What are you?" he asked calmly.
The calm frightened me more than anger would have.
You sealed me once, the demon replied through my mouth. My tongue felt wrong—too heavy, too precise. But seals rot. And I grow bored.
My heart pounded violently.
I am borrowing her, it continued lazily. When I find a better form, I will discard what remains.
Panic surged.
"No—" I tried to say, but my jaw locked.
Then—
The pressure loosened.
Suddenly, painfully, I was myself again.
"Santiago," I gasped, my voice breaking as I clutched the edge of the table. "It's inside me. I—I can feel it. Please—"
My vision blurred. Every breath burned.
He was in front of me instantly.
"Angel," he said, low and urgent. "Listen to me."
"I don't have much time," I whispered. I could feel it stirring again, impatient. One minute. I somehow knew that. "It's… it's waiting. Like it's letting me speak."
Santiago's hand hovered near my shoulder, not touching. "You are still here," he said. "That matters."
"It says it'll leave me," I said, tears spilling over. "When it finds another body."
His jaw tightened.
"It won't," he said flatly.
The cold rushed back.
My spine arched as something slid forward inside me, reclaiming ground inch by inch.
Tick, the demon whispered. Tick.
My hands curled into claws.
Santiago swore under his breath.
I screamed—but it came out as laughter.
Your magic is exquisite, the demon said, tilting my head as it studied him. But you are bound by flesh. She is my shield.
Santiago's eyes darkened.
"I will tear you out of her," he said quietly.
Then she will tear with me, the demon replied pleasantly.
The pressure eased again.
I sagged forward, gasping.
"Santiago—please," I begged. "Don't let it speak for me again."
"You're coming with me," he said immediately.
Before I could ask where, he swept me into his arms.
The sudden motion startled me—but his grip was firm, grounding, real. His magic wrapped around us both, not invasive, but protective, like a storm held back by sheer will.
The corridors blurred as he moved quickly through the palace.
The demon hissed inside me.
Running will not save her.
The pressure surged.
"Santiago," I whispered urgently. "It's coming back—"
"I know," he said.
He didn't slow.
We reached his chambers—the same room I'd been warned never to enter again. He sealed the door behind us with a sharp gesture, runes flaring to life across the wood.
The air changed instantly.
It was colder here. Older. Heavy with layered magic.
He laid me gently on the bed, one hand braced beside me, the other hovering over my chest.
"Angel," he said, voice steady but fierce. "When you are yourself—listen to me."
"I am," I whispered. My vision swam. "I'm here."
"Hold on," he said. "No matter what it shows you. No matter what it says."
The demon surged violently.
My back arched as my mouth opened in a sound that wasn't human.
This body listens, it crooned. It hears the world. I will hear everything through her.
The pressure vanished again.
I sobbed.
"It hurts," I whispered. "It's like being pushed into the dark."
Santiago placed his palm flat against my sternum.
His magic poured in—not burning, not overwhelming—but precise. Anchoring.
"You are not alone," he said.
For the first time since I married him, I believed him completely.
The demon recoiled, shrieking softly in my mind.
This is not over, it promised.
I clung to Santiago's sleeve as darkness crept back in.
"I trust you," I whispered.
Then the shadows swallowed my thoughts again.