Trapped

The two of them had stopped counting the days around the tenth, not because they were forgetful, but because time felt irrelevant in a place where there was no sun, no moon, and no end.

They sat now at the top of a broken pillar, high above the center of the underground temple. Their makeshift camp wasn't luxurious, but it was enough with a small fire kindled from enchanted tinder, their cloaks rolled up as makeshift bedding, rations packed neatly beside them from the inventory space they were smart enough to use.

Peroncerea leaned back against the smooth curve of the fallen stone, exhaling. She was barefoot, legs pulled close to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her horns pulsed with that soft bioluminescence, casting gentle light in small circles that danced over the walls. Eldrigan sat beside her, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the massive expanse of the temple's ceiling, which disappeared into oppressive darkness.

Two weeks. That's how long they'd been trapped here.

Fortunately, Narisva's annoyingly cocky advice about always having emergency supplies in one's inventory had paid off. They had just enough food, water and a few magical comforts to keep themselves sane. And sanity was precious down here. There were no monsters, no traps, no echoes of ancient spells waiting to eat them alive.

No. Just silence. And that was somehow worse than fighting all the time.

The temple was hauntingly still like a time-frozen sanctuary buried beneath the world. Enormous marble statues lined every corridor, depicting a wolf goddess with animals around her and a veil that seemed to flow even though it was made of stone. No matter where they went, she was there, sometimes in gold, sometimes obsidian, sometimes with bloodstains that couldn't have been real… but felt real.

They explored every corridor, every chamber, and nothing had tried to kill them. Which, for once, was disappointing.

There was no visible exit. The only way they could think of was up through the hollow maw of the collapsed cavern ceiling they fell through. Peroncerea tried. She really did.

Her demonic wings flared on the fourth day. She stretched them, flexed them, and soared with all her strength. Eldrigan watched from below, shouting encouragement with a smirk that barely concealed his concern.

She made it halfway up the shaft. Then her entire body shook from sudden, unnatural fatigue.

It felt as if her own stamina was being drained by invisible vines with every meter she ascended. Her heart raced out of her chest, her lungs screamed, and her wings began to falter in wide, ugly flaps.

She crash-landed halfway down and would've broken her spine had Eldrigan not caught her with a cushion of his Tether.

She hadn't flown since. And she hadn't told him what was really going on because she was getting worse.

Being in darkness was supposed to make her stronger. That was how demons worked. Their Tethers fed on darkness. The darker the realm, the more powerful their instincts became. Their natures emerged in full bloom. The succubi in particular, were sensitive to this phenomenon. The darkness whispered to them, luring out the threads of their ancient urges and survival traits.

And while she was only half succubus, that half was getting hungry.

At first, it had been manageable. A few strange dreams, an itch under her skin, a little flutter of her heart when Eldrigan got too close during sleep. But over time, it began to twist.

She was starting to look at him differently. Not with lust. No. Not even with affection.

With need.

Her body knew his strength and his vitality. It was like a rich and endless river beneath his skin, pulsing and hot and tangible, and her instincts screamed for it. But she was a Royal Demon. Not some feral wretch. She had training, control and dignity.

She had never taken vitality from anyone since she was a child and that time didn't count. Her parents had no choice but to let her take from her father during her childhood to stabilize her Tether. It was custom.

But this?

This would be betrayal. He didn't know and how could he? How could she look him in the eye and say;

"Hey, just so you're aware, I've wanted to suck the life out of you for the past three nights. Don't take it personally. It's just how I'm made."

He'd never look at her the same again. And the truth was… she didn't want him to look at her with fear.

So she said nothing.

They sat quietly now, the fire crackling gently between them. Eldrigan passed her a chunk of dried fruit, one of the last pieces left. She took it absently, chewing with no hunger.

"You think the door in the center has changed at all?"

Her gaze followed his, drifting across the wide floor below, toward the massive circular door that stood embedded in the wall of the inner sanctum. Its surface was made entirely of black crystal, untouched by dust or time. Veins of faint red pulsed through it like breath.

They had tried everything. Touching it, pressing against it, whispering to it, scanning it with their Tethers but it didn't open.

"I don't know. It hasn't budged. Maybe it opens on a condition."

Eldrigan exhaled through his nose.

"Maybe it needs a sacrifice. And um... you keep looking at my neck."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Don't act dumb," he said, turning to face her with that half-lidded stare. "You've been doing it for the past six days. You're not exactly subtle."

"I haven't—"

"You bit your lip earlier, too. What's going on, Peron?"

She looked away. Her jaw tightened.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

Eldrigan didn't press.

He wasn't stupid. He could sense when someone was hiding something. And Peroncerea was many things but being shy wasn't one of them. If she was quiet, it was because something inside her was fighting. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body and scooted back a little. He noticed that, too.

Still, he didn't move. He just leaned back against the pillar again and closed his eyes.

"You know, when we get out of here, we'll probably laugh about this."

She didn't reply.

"We'll tell the others we camped out in some ancient goddess' tomb for two weeks, laughed, slept and failed to open a giant door."

Peroncerea gave a weak chuckle, more like a sigh.

"Yeah. Sounds hilarious."

But she didn't feel like laughing.

She felt like flying up to the ceiling and screaming into the void until the urge went away and her thoughts stopped drifting to his voice, his breath, the line of his collarbone...

She bit her lip again. He didn't look this time but she knew he noticed.

And somewhere, deep inside her chest, she began to wonder.

'What if I lose control? What if I can't hold it back? What if the only way out of here… is through him?'

She didn't want it to be true.

So she closed her eyes, curled deeper into her cloak, and repeated the same lie she'd been whispering to herself every night for two weeks.

"I'll hold on. I can hold on."

But even in the firelight, her horns glowed a little brighter.

°°°°°°°

By the time they reached the great circular door the next morning, the fire had long died. The temple's central chamber was as cold and timeless as it had always been.

Each morning, they came here. They looked, tried and failed. But this morning felt different.

They didn't speak much. They just exchanged a glance before splitting off in silence. Peroncerea took to the air with a quiet thrum of her demonic wings while Eldrigan remained grounded, brushing his palm over the cold stone tiles, scanning for pressure points, indentations, glyphs. They had both done this—what? Thirty? Forty times?—but the madness of repetition didn't matter.

Because a door exists to be opened.

Peroncerea glided along the curvature of the sanctum, flying slowly around the rim of the black crystal gate, her eyes scanning the carvings that danced between beauty and madness. Her wings flapped soundlessly as she slowed mid-air, one hand gliding along the etchings, fingertips grazing what felt like nothing more than decorative theology.

"Still nothing," she muttered, voice echoing into the void.

She turned sharply, swooping lower toward one of the stone reliefs, her body twisting in air, her legs curled up beneath her, her cloak rippling behind her like a second pair of wings. She didn't notice her eyes had started to faintly glow again in this lightless place.

Or that she looked more demon than ever.

"I think I—"

"Peron," Eldrigan's voice cut in from below.

She paused mid-flight.

"Come see this."

She dropped immediately, wings folding then flared them wide before landing just beside him with a sweep of dust and stone fragments. He was crouched near the left base of the door, his hand pressed against a large black slab that glowed awkwardly from the otherwise symmetrical frame. The stone looked no different from the rest but...

"I pushed my essence into the stone just to test it again. I've done it before. Nothing happened. But this time…"

He pulled his hand away and they both watched as faint golden lines began to burn across the stone's surface, forming slow, arcing script that curved and spiraled outward, forming what looked like divine calligraphy. The glowing lines finally stilled and condensed into four glowing lines.

Peroncerea knelt beside him, eyes narrowing. The language was unmistakable.

It was the the tongue of the gods.

---

In bound reflection, the shadows yearn,

For light that in its silence burns.

From sacred kin, let twin blood flow,

So secrets sealed may dare to show.

---

Peroncerea blinked, then tilted her head.

"Wait... that's—"

"Godscript," Eldrigan finished, running his fingers through his long dark hair, dust clinging to the strands. "The divine language. It was used in sealing and mythic rituals since the gods speak this language. It's pretty ancient. But I remember it."

She looked at him, stunned.

"You can read Godscript?"

He glanced at her with a tired smirk.

"Not fluently. But, I studied a lot at the Academy. I had a class on religious linguistics. Got obsessed with it for a while."

She blinked slowly and for a moment, she remembered.

Minafallen Academy.

Three years and three months ago, they were students caught up in the First Epoch Cycle and flung into the merciless lands of the Erna Isles.

They weren't kids anymore.

In Spheraphase, adulthood came at twenty, the third birthday they were past the edge now.

"I forget sometimes that we were just students. That we had… lessons."

He glanced sideways.

"Yeah. Hard to picture it now."

She stared at the Godscript again.

From sacred kin, let twin blood flow.

Something about it made her skin crawl.

She knew exactly what it meant. Not literally, but in essence. Divine blood. Demonic blood. And something between them. A door that could only be opened when both of their blood—hers and someone divine—mingled together.

And perhaps more than just blood was needed.

"Do you think it's asking for blood?"

Eldrigan tilted his head. "Well, yeah. Divine and demonic. Probably both. Maybe simultaneously. It mentions twin flow."

She tried to keep her face neutral but inside, her thoughts were spiraling.

Divine and demonic. Sacred kin. Twin blood. Connection.

Her body tensed.

She was a Royal Demon. He was human… but the more she stared at him, the more she remembered the soft threads of light that danced in his Tether when he used it. She remembered something her mother once said. About hybrids. About connections. About certain humans born with ancestral blessings.

She swallowed.

"Eldrigan, you're a demigod, aren't you?"