ℤ𝕒𝕟𝕖

We walk along the dirt path towards town, Kami swinging her empty basket back and forth. A crowd murmurs up ahead, but it's not quite clear where the sounds are coming from. As we round the corner past a group of trees, we see dozens of people gathered at the end of the road outside a large home—the Schauberg estate.

Ilen.

Almost in unison, Kami and I take off into a sprint for the estate.

Did Asmodeus finally kill Count Schauberg?

I can't help but smirk a little at the thought. Krisztian Schauberg is a typical pompous, arrogant rich man, but I have no good reason to wish him dead. He could give Ilen a good life, and that's what I want for her.

The crowd continues to swarm around the steps as we approach, but they still manage to give a wide berth to whatever they're looking at. Gasps and shouts fill the crowd. A woman buries her face in her husband's chest, sobbing. That's when it hits me—the thick, unmistakable smell of death.

I turn to Kami, whose eyes are wide and frozen with concern.

I inhale deeply.

Her smell is here—Ilen.

I push past the crowd to find a battered woman's naked body draped on the steps, blood trailing from the house's front door to her body.

No. It can't be her. It can't.

I run up the stairs and drop to my knees beside her body. I delicately turn her head toward me. Her face is swollen and covered in blood, unrecognizable, but her scent—it's her.

This can't be happening.

"No, no, no," I say, cradling Ilen's cold, naked body in my hands.

Tears pour uncontrollably from my eyes as I shake her.

"Ilen, please darling. Wake up!"

My own voice sounds unfamiliar through my sobs.

This doesn't feel real. It can't be that this lifeless, bruised, and bloodied body is the girl I know. No twinkle in her eye. No bashful smile. No contagious laugh. My Ilen is so full of life—or, was.

But I took that from her.

"If this is where we've started, I can't wait to see where we end up," a voice says.

I look around for its source but find no one, just the huddled crowd watching from afar.

"Try again," another voice says.

Where are these voices coming from?

*****

I push past the crowd to find a battered woman's naked body draped on the steps, blood trailing from the house's front door to her body.

No. It can't be her. It can't.

I run up the stairs and drop to my knees beside her body. I delicately turn her head toward me. Her face is bruised and bloodied, but even with her hair caked in blood I can make out the unforgettable shade of bright purple—no.

No. No. God please no.

A blood-curdling scream erupts from my chest and I collapse on top of her, sobbing into her shoulder.

My heart feels like it's been ripped from my chest, snapping my every rib. Every time I breathe my lungs feel like they're on fire.

"Please, no, no, no," I cry, holding her to my chest. "No, this wasn't supposed to happen. Baby, please, no..."

𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕚

Zane's pained screams echo through the walls of the dungeon.

"What are you doing to him?" I scream, but the demons just laugh in reply.

He's still chained to the floor, his eyes closed as he howls in agony. His wings rip through his shirt as he thrashes against his chains.

"No, no, no," he cries.

One demon has her hands on either side of his head, following him as his body flails.

"If this is where we've started, I can't wait to see where we end up," the other demon says with a laugh.

"What are they doing to him?" I ask Valentina. "He's clearly in pain!"

"They're looking inside his mind, triggering his worst memories," she says. "Be prepared. It'll get worse from here."

"But she's touching his head. Why?"

"They can manipulate your mind—your memories. Their touch will push you, guide you where they want you to go. It's usually to torture you, but sometimes they'll do it for information."

"They can make you see what they want you to?"

"Not quite. They don't have complete control. They rely on your own brain to access those bad memories—to turn them against you, make them more painful. I guess the brain is pretty good at that."

"How can we help him?"

She shakes her head and sighs.

"If I knew, I would try," she says. "But there's not a lot we can do to save him from his own mind."

ℤ𝕒𝕟𝕖

I pace at the foot of Ava's hospital bed as she lays unconscious, hooked up to an IV and a few beeping machines.

"Acute hepatic failure," the doctor mumbles, flipping through her medical chart on a clipboard.

Jen pinches her lips together and looks down at the floor.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"Her liver is failing," she says. "We have a hepatologist coming to look at her shortly, we'll know more then."

"Is she gonna be okay?" Jen asks.

"I..." the doctor says. "I'm not a specialist, so I wouldn't want to give you any information unti-"

I grab her wrist and she looks at me with wide, frightened eyes.

"Tell me the truth. Is she going to be alright?"

"It's fifty-fifty at this point, but it's certainly not looking good. I... I'm sorry."

My chest clenches and I feel as if all the blood has drained from my body. I can't even look back at Ava as she lays in her hospital bed. If I see her, I might just fall to pieces.

*****

I down the last bit of a bottle of whiskey and pitch it at the wall. It shatters, the glass shards gathering along the baseboard.

Fuck.

I pick up the phone and call Ava.

What am I doing?

"Hey," she answers.

"Hey," I say weakly.

This feels wrong.

"Everything okay?" she asks.

"Uh. We need to talk."

No. What are you doing? Stop.

I try to correct myself, to say something—anything at all—but I can't speak. I can't even move. I'm trapped inside myself.

"Uh, okay," she says, her voice shaking slightly. "That sounds really ominous."

I say nothing in response.

Fuck this. Say something. Tell her you love her. Say fucking anything.

"Do you wanna come over?" she asks.

Say yes. Please.

"No," I reply. "I... we... this isn't working out."

My heart is collapsing in on itself, endlessly crushed under its own weight. Every second of her silence is breaking me in ways I didn't know I could be broken.

"You're... you're breaking up with me?" she asks. Her voice is soft and trembling, dragging me further into a wretched agony that burns my chest from the inside out.

I did that. I hurt her.

"Yeah," I force out, nearly choking on a sob.

"Wh-... Why? I mean I know I went a little crazy last night, but I think that the alcohol just really got to me more than usual. I don't know if–"

Stop. Fuck. You're hurting her.

"No, it's not about last night. I just can't."

"I don't understand," she says. I can hear the tears in her voice now. "Can we talk about this in person?"

I can't stand the sound of her crying. It's ripping me apart. My lungs are on fire and my head throbs.

"No. I'm not changing my mind."

"If you're going to break up with me over the phone, I at least deserve to know why."

"Because, I..." I start to say, but I feel myself gag on the words.

Don't do this. Stop, please. Fuck! Why can't I stop?

"Can I just come over and we can talk? This doesn't make any se–"

"Because I don't want to be with you anymore."

I hit the End Call button and drop my phone to the ground.

Bile creeps up my throat and, in a violent lurch, I collapse to the ground, emptying my stomach into a bin as the room spins around me.

"He's in bad shape," a voice says. "What have you got?"

"I'm not sure yet," another voice says. "There's more here, I can sense it. It's almost like he has another memory beneath the surface."

Who is that? Where is that voice coming from?

"Right... here..."

*****

Suddenly, I'm in Ava's apartment. I can't quite remember how I got here... the details are hazy and my memory is a blur.

Ava is sitting on the couch on her phone. Her eyes are watering and she bites her lip as it quivers.

"What's wrong, baby?" I ask, but she doesn't look at me. "Baby?"

She doesn't react, as if she can't hear me. I take a few steps closer.

"You're... you're breaking up with me?" she asks.

"No, never baby, I-" I say as I walk over to her, but I catch the name on her phone—Zane.

"Who are you talking to?" I ask, reaching out to touch her shoulder. I see my hand on her shoulder but I can't feel it.

"Wh-... Why?" she says into the phone, a tear falling onto her cheek. "I mean I know I went a little crazy last night, but I think that the alcohol just really got to me more than usual. I don't know if–"

Fuck. What's happening. This is... how am I here?

"I don't understand. Can we talk about this in person?"

The tears start to spill more freely and she clenches her eyes shut.

"Baby? Please, listen to me," I beg, but she doesn't react. "Baby? Can you hear me? I love you, please just..."

"If you're going to break up with me over the phone, I at least deserve to know why."

I hate seeing her cry. I hate that I'm the one that did this to her. I can't handle it. My heart is tearing at the seams.

This is hell.

"Can I just come over and we can talk?" she asks. "This doesn't make any se–"

She looks at her phone—Call Ended.

I collapse to the floor and scream, in both desperation and pain, until my throat burns.

She doesn't hear me.