"What on earth are you painting?" Serena's voice causes me to jump, almost knocking over my paint water.

I was so caught up in the painting that I had not heard her approach.

"Serena," I say, steadying myself. "You startled me."

She chuckles. "So, what are you working on?"

"A painting," I say, not meeting her gaze. In truth, I had not been paying attention to what I was painting. I do that often. It is almost like I am in a trance.

My hands pause, brush suspended mid-air, as I finally turn to look at the canvas before me. It is him-Ciaran. Every stroke, every shade, captures not just his image but the essence of him. The shadows that cling to him, the intensity in his eyes, and that undefinable aura that surrounds him.

I turn back to Serena, who is studying my painting with a keen, analytical gaze that has always made her an exceptional mentor. Her silver hair, usually tied back with a scarf, has a few loose strands framing her face. Today, those strands catch the dim light of the studio, highlighting the wisdom etched in the lines of her face. "It is quite dark, is it not?"

I swallow, trying to formulate a response.

Serena has been my mentor for many years, and I know she will not believe me if I attempt to lie. Perhaps I can provide her with half-truths.

"It looks almost like a..." Her words trail off, and she turns toward me, those penetrating eyes narrowing. "Devil."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, feigning innocence.

She crosses her arms, the bracelets on her wrists clinking softly. "Do not play coy with me, Adwin. I know a devil's likeness when I see one."

I do not know why, but I am not ready to reveal the truth about Ciaran-not yet. Devils, in our world, are either dismissed as myths or feared as dangerous entities. Neither option bodes well for how Serena might react to my bond with Ciaran.

"Why are you painting a devil?" she presses, stepping closer. The concern in her voice is evident, tinged with a hint of fear-fear for me, not of the subject of my painting.

"I... I was just trying something new. The shadows and the horns... It is an interesting concept, is it not?"

She gives me a look that tells me she does not believe me. Her eyes burn into mine, and I struggle not to fidget under her stare.

"Do you remember what I told you about the devils?" she asks, her voice softening.

"Yes," I reply, thinking back to a conversation we had when I first started training with her.

"I warned you that there are some things in this world that are better left untouched." She takes another step forward, her eyes fixed on the canvas. "The devils are one of those things."

She had warned me, but I had brushed off her warnings about devils. I did not believe in them at the time.

"Serena-"

"Adwin, do not lie to me. I can sense you are holding back. It is in your emotions."

I pause. I know Serena has the minor ability to sense emotions, but can she truly sense my hesitance?

"I cannot," I finally say.

Her expression shifts, her features hardening. "Cannot what? Lie to me?"

"Both. I cannot lie, and I cannot tell you about the subject of my painting. Not yet. I am sorry, Serena."

She sighs, a mix of annoyance and resignation. "Very well, but mark my words, Adwin, the devils are not to be trifled with. They are dangerous, and they cannot be trusted. Whatever you are hiding, it will not end well."

The words are spoken with a conviction that comes from personal experience. I wonder what she has seen, what she has experienced, to have such a strong distrust of the devils that most believe to be myths.

Before either of us can say another word, the bell above the door chimes, announcing a new arrival. Serena's attention is drawn away from me, and she moves to greet the newcomer.

"I apologize for my lateness," a male voice says. "There was an unexpected delay on the road."

"Not a problem," Serena replies, her voice smooth and professional. "Welcome to the Shadow's End Art Guild. I am Serena, and I will be your mentor for the next few weeks."

I hear her begin the usual spiel, and I am thankful for the distraction. I quickly clean up my paints, putting them away in their proper places. When I am finished, I quietly exit the studio, leaving Serena and her newest pupil alone.

My mind is racing.

Serena's warning about the devils weighs heavy on my mind, and I cannot help but wonder what her past experiences have been with them. Perhaps it is time I do some research of my own. If I am going to have a relationship with a devil, then I need to know what I am getting myself into.

I have an hour until my next session, so I head to the local library. It is a modest building, but it houses a surprisingly large collection of books, many donated by the wealthy residents of the town.

We do not have a proper librarian in Shadow's End, but we do have Mr. Alcott, the local historian and folklore expert.

"Hello, Mr. Alcott," I call out as I enter the library.

"Good day, Adwin. How can I help you?" He peers at me over the top of his glasses, his face half-hidden behind a stack of books.

"I am looking for information on devils."

His brow furrows. "Devils?"

"Yes. I have come across a few mentions of them in the stories of the forest, and I am curious about them."

He thinks for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I believe we have a few books that may be of interest. Come, let me show you."

He leads me to a section in the back of the library, filled with books on myth and legend. He picks out a few and hands them to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Alcott. I appreciate it."

"Of course. Happy reading, Adwin."

I find a quiet corner and settle in, opening the first book. It is a collection of stories about the various creatures of other realms, including devils.

The illustrations are dark and frightening, depicting the devils as shadowy figures with twisted horns and claws. Grotesque monsters. They are shown as evil and dangerous, bringing death and destruction wherever they go. There are stories of how they used to strike bargains with desperate humans, but the devils always turned on them, killing them or trapping their souls.

The text tells the stories of their reign of terror, which lasted for centuries before the devils were driven back into the shadows, into other realms.

The devils were supposedly defeated in battle, but some speculated they simply retreated into the darkness. There are tales of people being abducted, only to return, changed. Those who did return, that is.

I read story after story, each more disturbing than the last. My mind races as I try to make sense of it all.

How can Ciaran be a creature from these stories? He does not seem evil or dangerous. In fact, he has been nothing but kind and gentle with me.

I think back to our kiss, the way his touch sent shivers down my spine. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

But is that just the bond? Is it clouding my judgment?

I have heard of soulmates being manipulated by their bonds. Their emotions and perceptions can be altered, making them more susceptible to influence. Could that be happening to me?

I shake the thought away. No, it cannot be. Ciaran is not like the devils described in these stories. He is different. He is my soul's mate.

And yet, the more I read, the more uncertain I become.

Ciaran's unwillingness to share his past with me last night comes to mind. Was he trying to protect me from the truth? From himself?

My heart aches at the thought. If he is indeed hiding something from me, it cannot be good.

As much as it pains me to do so, I must prepare myself for the worst. If my soul's mate is a danger to me, then I must find a way to protect myself.

I close the book and head to the front desk, returning the volumes to Mr. Alcott.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asks, taking the books from me.

"Not exactly," I reply, forcing a smile. "But thank you for the assistance. You have a good day, Mr. Alcott."

"You too, Adwin."

I head back to the art guild, my mind spinning. I have another session in the studio, but I am not sure if I can concentrate. All I can think about is the bond, and whether or not I can trust Ciaran.

As much as I want to believe that he is different, that he is not a danger to me, I cannot shake the doubt. The bond is powerful, but it can also be a double-edged sword.