The Devil’s Grip
The moment Ariel's dagger missed its mark, she knew she had made a mistake.
But it was too late to stop.
Her nails raked across his cheek, tearing through smooth, flawless skin. A thin trail of blood beaded along the scratch—barely a wound, but enough to mark him.
Enough to make him pause.
For a heartbeat, the entire chamber froze.
The Saya stopped breathing. Kyla's smirk twitched. Even Kathleen, still crumpled on the ground, let out a faint gasp.
Ariel didn't hesitate. She reached for another attack, ready to claw him again—
But she never got the chance.
His hand was on her throat.
Cold. Unrelenting.
In an instant, her feet left the ground.
She choked as he lifted her effortlessly, his fingers tightening, pressing against her windpipe.
The dagger clattered to the floor.
Ariel clawed at his wrist, gasping, kicking, struggling—but he didn't even flinch.
The Devil's golden eyes burned into her, not with fury, not with rage—but something darker.
Something cruel.
Something amused.
"Did you really think," he murmured, "you could touch me and walk away unscathed?"
Ariel wheezed, fingers prying at his grip. He wasn't even squeezing at full strength.
But she could already feel her body giving out.
His head tilted, mocking curiosity dancing in his gaze. "You must be desperate."
Ariel's nails dug into his skin. He didn't react.
"Let…" she rasped, "…me go."
He let out a low chuckle. "And why would I do that, little bird?"
His voice was smooth, teasing, a whisper of something wicked.
Ariel's vision blurred. Her limbs weakened.
She wanted to fight. To curse him. To scream.
But she couldn't breathe.
Her head lolled back slightly, darkness creeping at the edges of her sight.
He was winning.
No.
She couldn't lose like this.
She forced her gaze back to him, eyes burning with defiance.
Even now—at the edge of unconsciousness—she would not break.
The Devil smiled. "Still fighting?"
His fingers tightened—just enough.
Ariel's body spasmed. Her vision shattered.
And then—
Everything went dark.
---
A Memory. A Dream. A Nightmare.
Sunlight. Warmth.
Laughter rang through the air, bright and untouched by pain.
Ariel turned, her heart feeling light—free.
Kathleen stood beside her, grinning, her dark hair shining under the golden sky.
"Faster, Ariel!" Kathleen laughed, grabbing her hand. "You're so slow!"
Ariel let out a playful huff. "I'm not slow—you're just running like a wild animal!"
Kathleen stuck out her tongue. "I'll race you to the cliff!"
Ariel rolled her eyes. "You always want to race."
Kathleen smirked. "That's because I always win."
Ariel gave her a mock glare. "Not this time."
And just like that, they ran.
The wind rushed past them, their laughter filling the sky.
For a moment—**just a moment—**nothing else mattered.
Not the trials. Not the pain. Not the Devil.
Just them.
Just two girls, running toward the horizon.
Kathleen grabbed Ariel's hand again, fingers tightening. "Promise me something?"
Ariel gave her a sideways glance. "What?"
Kathleen grinned. "No matter what happens—we protect each other. Always."
Ariel let out a soft laugh. "Always?"
Kathleen nodded. "Always."
Ariel squeezed her hand. "Always."
And then—
The ground vanished beneath Kathleen's feet.
Ariel's breath caught in her throat.
Kathleen's body tilted, tipped, fell.
"No!"
Ariel lunged, grabbing for her hand—
She missed.
Kathleen's scream pierced the air.
Ariel reached again—but there was nothing.
Just empty space.
Just falling.
Just—
Darkness.
---
The Awakening
Ariel jerked awake.
Her breath came in sharp gasps, sweat clinging to her skin.
Her fingers curled into silk sheets.
Sheets?
The memory of Kathleen's fall still ripped through her mind. The wind. The scream. The helplessness.
But she wasn't falling.
She was…
Somewhere else.
A shadow moved beside her.
Ariel flinched—but it was just Ezekiel.
The dwarf sat on a chair near her bed, arms crossed, looking at her with something between amusement and pity.
She was back in her chambers.
Alive.
Kathleen.
The name burned on her tongue.
She shot upright. "Where is she? Where's Kathleen?"
Ezekiel didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he leaned back, exhaling dramatically.
"You should rest," he said lazily.
Ariel's heart pounded. "Where is she?"
Ezekiel finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable.
"…You need more sleep."
Ariel's nails dug into the sheets.
"What happened to her?" Her voice was shaking now.
Ezekiel sighed, rubbing his temple. "Look, I'll make this simple—you're weak, you need to rest, and if you keep screaming like that, you're going to—"
The door opened.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Ariel's breath hitched.
Ezekiel stiffened, his usual sarcasm vanishing as he sat up straighter.
A shadow stretched across the floor, slow, deliberate.
And then—
The Devil stepped inside.
He didn't speak. Didn't need to.
Flaming eyes pierced through the dim light, locking onto Ariel like a predator sighting prey.
He took a step forward, unhurried, composed—dangerous.
Ariel's body tensed.
His gaze dragged over her, slow and assessing, before flicking to Ezekiel with something that wasn't quite amusement—but close.
Then, back to her.
"You look disappointed."
His voice was a dark caress, smooth as velvet, sharp as a knife.
Mocking. Inevitable.
Ariel's nails dug into the sheets.
She refused to answer.
She refused to let him see it.
But the smirk on his lips told her he already had.