The cold, damp air of the dark chamber seeped into Azrail's bones.
Her body was pressed against the stone wall, arms twisted behind her, bound by thick chains that seemed to burn against her skin. Every tug, every movement only made them tighten further. A dull, persistent headache pulsed at the back of her skull, the remnants of the blow she had received when she was first captured. She tried to open her eyes, but the thick, oppressive darkness made it hard to focus.
When her vision finally cleared, she realized that she wasn't on Earth anymore. The stone walls around her were jagged and rough, as if they had been carved from the very earth itself. There was no warmth, no comfort here—just cold, dead stone and the faintest flicker of blue flames that cast eerie shadows along the walls.
Magic.
Azrail could feel it. The chains were not just physical restraints—they were magical, infused with a power she couldn't yet comprehend. She tried to focus, but the weight of the magic pressing against her made it hard to think. She had been brought here, imprisoned by forces she couldn't understand, and the feeling of helplessness gnawed at her.
But she wouldn't stay helpless.
Her pulse quickened, not in fear, but in rage. Azrail was no stranger to being hunted, to being forced into dangerous situations. She had faced down the collapse of the world itself, survived the loss of everyone she had ever loved. She had learned to endure. And she would endure this too.
The sound of heavy footsteps broke through her thoughts. The door creaked open slowly, and she braced herself. A tall figure emerged from the shadows—his presence filling the room before he even spoke. Asmodeus.
The Demon King.
She had heard of him. Stories whispered in the dark corners of the world. The most powerful of all demons, feared by everyone—even his own kind. His reputation was legendary, and as he stepped into the dim light, Azrail felt the weight of his power in the very air around her. He was calm, collected, but there was something about him that set her teeth on edge. His very being screamed control.
His crimson eyes met hers, glowing in the half-light, burning with an intensity that made her chest tighten. He looked at her as though she were nothing more than an intriguing puzzle. "Awake, I see."
Azrail's lips curled into a sneer, though the action was more out of defiance than anything else. "What gave it away?"
Asmodeus chuckled softly, an amused glint in his gaze. "Still defiant. I like that."
He stepped closer, the hem of his long coat sweeping over the stone floor like a shadow. Azrail clenched her fists, pulling at the chains. "Let me go," she growled, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.
Asmodeus stopped just in front of her, his gaze never leaving her face. "And why would I do that?"
Azrail's heart beat faster, but her defiance remained. "Because if you don't, I'll make you regret it."
A soft laugh escaped him, but it held no warmth. "Empty threats," he murmured. "I've heard them all before."
Azrail's eyes flashed. "Try me."
Asmodeus' smile widened, though there was nothing friendly about it. "You are fascinating, Azrail. I've never met anyone quite like you."
Azrail hated the way he said her name—like she was a curiosity, not a threat. "I'm not your pet," she spat.
He ignored her, his expression unreadable as he stepped closer. "Do you know why you're here?"
Azrail bristled at his calm demeanor. "Because you've got a control problem?"
Asmodeus didn't react, his gaze focused on her with an intensity that made her stomach churn. "No. You're here because you're an anomaly."
The word struck her like a punch to the gut. "Anomaly?" she repeated, confusion mixing with suspicion. "The virus didn't affect me."
His eyes flickered with something akin to interest. "No, it didn't. And that is what I don't understand."
Azrail's fists tightened. "You're pissed off because I didn't become one of your puppets, huh?"
Asmodeus took another step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's more than that. You are connected to this… this curse in a way that even I cannot comprehend."
Azrail's mind raced, but she refused to let him see her uncertainty. "That's a load of bullshit," she shot back, her voice hard.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised his hand, and in a blur of motion, he was suddenly inches from her. Azrail didn't flinch, but she felt the air around him shift, a strange energy swirling in the space between them. She could feel it—something deep within her stirring at his proximity.
His hand hovered near her throat, the air between them crackling with an unfamiliar tension. "What are you doing?" Azrail demanded, but her voice wavered slightly as a strange pull tugged at her chest.
"Confirming something," Asmodeus replied, his voice low, almost a whisper.
The energy thrummed in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Azrail felt the sensation deep in her chest again—a tugging, like something ancient was awakening inside her.
Asmodeus lowered his hand and stepped back, his eyes darkening slightly. "Interesting," he murmured. "I've never felt anything like that before."
Azrail's pulse quickened. "What the hell was that?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he turned away, his cloak swirling around him as he moved toward the door. "You are not what I expected."
Azrail opened her mouth to speak, but he was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him. The click of the lock echoed in the silence that followed.
She was alone again. But not truly alone. She could feel his presence lingering, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "You belong to me," he had said.
No. She didn't belong to anyone.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she yanked against the chains again, desperate for freedom. But even as she fought, a strange feeling of dread gnawed at her insides.
This was just the beginning. And Azrail had a sinking feeling that her fight for freedom would be harder than she had ever imagined.