Zyraxiel
I move even closer, brushing my hand against her cheek, just like before, feeling her lean into the warmth again.
"I don't want to take your soul, Haisley," I whisper, my voice a low growl. "I want you to give it to me. Not out of desperation. Not because you think it's already damned. But because you know it's the only thing you have left that's still yours."
Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. She's strong, stronger than she knows. But there's a softness to her, too. A fragility beneath the pain. And it's that fragility, that humanity, that I want. Not as a prize, but as something precious.
Her voice trembles when she finally speaks. "What difference does it make? Whether I have a soul or not, I'm already..."
"You're not lost," I say firmly, cutting her off. "Not yet. Not if you choose to stay."
For the first time, I see something flicker in her eyes—something like hope, or maybe curiosity. And I know, in that moment, that this game isn't about winning or losing anymore. It's about her choosing me, just as I've chosen her.
Haisley is darkness. But in that darkness, there's still a flicker of light. And I'll be damned if I let it go.
Haisley's trembling lips part as she stares at me, her eyes brimming with questions she's too afraid to ask. I can see the wheels turning in her mind, the weight of everything pressing down on her fragile shoulders.
"What happens to the winners?" she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper, a flicker of fear and curiosity dancing in her gaze.
I study her for a long moment, choosing my words carefully. "The winners," I begin, my voice low and steady, "are claimed by their demon."
Her brows knit together in confusion, and I know she's imagining some twisted reward—maybe freedom, maybe riches, something tangible. But this game isn't about those things.
"They live with us," I continue, watching her reaction closely. "Forever. They become ours, bound to us in the shadows and darkness. It's not a return to the real world. Winning here isn't about escaping back to the life you once had. It's about gaining an eternity—a twisted gift—an eternity to live, but not in the light."
Haisley's eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat as my words sink in. "Forever?" she echoes, her voice shaky. "With you… in the darkness?"
I nod slowly, taking a step closer. "Yes. It's not just a matter of surviving this game. It's about what happens after. Winning doesn't mean a few more years in the world you know. It means an eternity with me." My eyes lock onto hers. "It means you become mine."
She swallows hard, her lips quivering as the weight of my words hangs between us. "How… how do I give you my soul?" she asks, her voice laced with uncertainty. "How do I choose to?"
I take a breath, feeling the power in this moment, knowing she's standing at the edge of a decision she barely understands. "You give me your soul when you accept that you belong to me," I explain, my voice like a whisper carried on the wind. "It's not just about surrendering to the darkness, Haisley. It's about choosing it. Choosing me. You'll know you're ready when you understand that I am the only thing left to claim you. That you want to be mine, not just because you have no other choice, but because it's the only truth that makes sense."
Her eyes flicker with a mixture of fear and something else—something far more dangerous. There's a curiosity in her gaze now, a dark understanding creeping in. She's teetering on the edge, but she's not ready to fall. Not yet.
I can see her struggle, the conflict brewing inside her. But I won't take her soul. Not yet. I want it to be willingly given, not wrestled from her in a moment of desperation.
"I won't take your soul," I say softly, stepping closer still, my hand brushing her cheek once again. She leans into it, her body betraying her mind, seeking the comfort of my warmth. "I want you to give it to me willingly. I want you to choose to be mine."
Her lips tremble, her breath shallow as she gazes up at me. "But if not my soul, then what? What will you take from me?"
I lean in, my voice low and intimate. "I will take your darkest memory. The one that haunts you. The one that defines the shadows in your soul. I'll take that pain from you, Haisley. And when you're ready, when you're willing to give me your soul in exchange, I will trade it back. Your memory for your soul."
Her eyes widen at my words, the offer hanging in the air like a poisoned promise. The memory that has shaped her, the one she clings to, her pain—it's what keeps her locked in this world of torment. And I'm offering her a way out. A way to rid herself of the very thing that defines her.
"Your memory," I repeat, my voice soft but commanding, "for your soul. I will not take it until you are ready. Until you want to be mine."
She stares at me, her mind racing, her body tense with indecision. But I know she's close. I can feel it. The shadows in her soul are calling to me, and soon, very soon, she'll be ready to give me the one thing that truly matters—her soul. But not yet.
I pull back slightly, watching her carefully. "When you're ready, Haisley, I'll be waiting. You'll know where to find me."