The monster stood at his mirror and wiped blood from his throat, his chin, and his lips. It soaked into the cloth, staining it crimson.
Maker, it is everywhere.
He had forgotten he could bleed.
How dare she.
How dare she enter his castle, his fortress, and try to manipulate his power. He had sensed it when they first met. The shadows had bent to her will, loosening around her throat when he had meant to keep them taut. He looked at the handkerchief in his hands—he had scarcely remembered he possessed one, finding it draped over the side of a neglected shelf—as if the creases, wet with red, wet with his lifeblood , could tell him something. Anything.
No memory dared speak.
Instead, it was the vision of her that drifted to the front of his consciousness. Her, standing in the middle of that cold pool, moonlight pouring through the ceiling and gleaming in the water, in the stone of the cavern walls, in her eyes . Her dark eyes, filled with—what was it? He wasn’t certain, couldn’t recall what those emotions were named. All he knew was that he didn’t want to hurt her.
How dare she.
And he didn’t even know her name.
He brought the cloth to his nose. He needed to wipe away what he felt or else he’d go mad.
The monster drifted to his balcony before he could consider otherwise, pulling back the curtain with a clumsy tug. The deepening night now cloaked most of the moon and stars. It was dark. So incessantly dark.
His feet led him to the balustrade anyway.
For a time, he did nothing but stare at the shadow-drenched landscape. The power that usually thrummed in his veins was weak, gasping. It did not answer him when he called for it. Perhaps it would return, or perhaps that girl had eternally cleaved it from him. Either way, his strength was dwindling.
A bottomless roar echoed from somewhere within the castle, and he tried to keep from thinking of her. He hated to admit it, but she stirred his curiosity. She mirrored him in ways he’d never dreamed possible, even from before he was locked away, and for that, he wanted to keep her safe until he was stronger and ready to question her. But he might not even have the chance.
She has damned me. I will end.
If he existed much longer in this weakened form, the demons would overtake him. How easily they’d overtake him. Even with the regenerative nature of his castle, the wards he’d set would splinter.
But perhaps release would be…
“Welcomed,” he murmured, the hoarseness in his voice betraying a raw, all-consuming exhaustion.
He settled his weight into the banister, watching the stars fade until the night had devoured them all.
