BOUND IN DARKNESS

Azrail woke to the sensation of cold metal biting into her skin.

Her wrists were bound. Tightly.

The dull ache in the back of her skull was a persistent throb, a grim reminder of her capture. She forced her eyes open, blinking against the dim blue glow that filled the space. Her vision was hazy at first, but as it cleared, her stomach twisted.

This was not Earth.

The walls around her were jagged, carved from black stone that seemed to drink in the light rather than reflect it. The edges glistened faintly, like obsidian kissed with fire, while blue flames flickered in sconces along the walls. But the light didn't just illuminate—it pulsed, like a heartbeat, casting shadows that shifted unnaturally, as if watching.

Azrail tugged at her restraints, testing them. Strong. Reinforced. Not ordinary metal—something more. The faint, glowing runes etched into the shackles sent a chill down her spine.

Magic.

For a brief second, panic threatened to rise, a primal response to the unknown. But she shoved it down, smothering it with the same ruthlessness that had kept her alive. Fear was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Her jaw clenched as she yanked at the restraints again, ignoring the way the metal bit into her skin. She was furious. Not scared—furious. She had survived a collapsing world, faced off against monsters that had once been human, and come out the other side unbroken.

This was just another fight.

And she had a very good idea who was responsible for it.

The heavy door at the far end of the chamber creaked open, the sound reverberating through the still air.

Footsteps followed—deliberate, unhurried.

Azrail's eyes snapped to the figure that stepped inside.

Asmodeus.

The Demon King.

He was tall, impossibly so, his presence nearly filling the room. A long black coat flowed behind him, the fabric shifting like liquid shadow. Symbols—glowing faintly, their meaning impossible to decipher—adorned the edges of his coat. His boots echoed against the stone floor as he approached, measured and controlled, like the ticking of a clock.

Azrail had faced monsters before. But never one like him.

The air seemed heavier around him, as if his very existence distorted reality. His power wasn't loud or chaotic—it was silent, suffocating, inevitable.

His crimson eyes burned as they locked onto hers, a gaze so intense it felt like he could strip her down layer by layer, peeling back her thoughts, her secrets, until nothing remained.

"You are awake."

Azrail glared, her lips curling into a sneer. "No shit."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but there was nothing amused about it. It was predatory. Dangerous.

"Still defiant. Good."

He took another step forward, his movements smooth, almost feline.

Azrail tugged at her chains again, the faint clink of metal echoing in the silence. "Let me go."

Asmodeus tilted his head slightly, as though considering her demand. "And why would I do that?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Because if you don't, I'll make you regret it."

His smirk widened. "Bold. But empty threats will not serve you here."

Her muscles coiled tighter, a growl bubbling in her throat. "Try me."

He let out a soft chuckle, but it wasn't warm—it was cold, laced with something unreadable. "You are fascinating."

Azrail hated the way he said it, like she was some kind of puzzle he intended to solve.

He stopped just a few feet from her, his towering frame casting a long shadow. "Do you know why you are here?"

Azrail's jaw tightened. "Because you have a control issue?"

His chuckle was low, brief. "No. You are here because you are an anomaly."

Her gaze sharpened. "The virus didn't affect me."

He inclined his head slightly, a dark confirmation. "Correct. The plague that has consumed your world did not touch you. You should be dead—or worse. Yet, here you stand."

Azrail forced herself to remain expressionless, even as unease curled in her gut. "So what? I'm immune. Big deal."

His crimson eyes darkened, their glow intensifying. "No. You are not merely immune. You are something more."

Her pulse quickened, but she refused to let it show. "And what exactly do you think I am?"

His gaze never wavered. "A key."

Her blood ran cold. "A key to what?"

Asmodeus stepped closer, now so near she could feel the faint energy radiating from him. It was like standing too close to a storm—charged, electric, dangerous.

"You are connected to the plague in ways even I do not fully understand," he murmured, almost thoughtful. "The power within you is dormant, but it is there. And it is… formidable."

Azrail's jaw tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar," he said softly.

Before she could react, he moved.

One moment, he was feet away. The next, he was inches from her, his presence overwhelming.

Azrail refused to flinch, though every instinct screamed at her to fight.

Asmodeus lifted a hand, his fingers stopping just short of her throat.

And that's when she felt it.

A strange, pulling sensation deep in her chest.

Like something stirring. Something waking.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she forced herself to speak. "What the hell are you doing?"

His gaze didn't waver. "Confirming something."

"Like what?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes burned brighter, and she swore she could feel heat radiating from him, sinking beneath her skin, deeper, deeper—

And then he stepped back.

The sensation vanished, leaving her feeling hollow.

"You are not what I expected," Asmodeus murmured, his voice quieter now. Almost to himself.

Azrail forced a scoff. "Glad to disappoint you."

His lips curved into that infuriating smirk again. "You do not disappoint, Azrail."

She froze.

He had said her name.

Her pulse quickened. She had never told him her name.

Her voice was sharp. "How do you know who I am?"

Asmodeus turned slightly, his expression unreadable. "I know everything about you."

The weight of his words pressed down on her, but she refused to show it. Instead, she yanked at her chains, the metal biting into her wrists. "What do you want from me?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned toward the door, his coat sweeping behind him like a shadow.

"This will be your chamber for now," he said, his tone calm. "Get comfortable. You won't be leaving anytime soon."

Azrail's glare could have melted steel. "Watch me."

Asmodeus paused in the doorway, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Oh, I will."

Then he was gone.

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound of a heavy locking mechanism clicking into place echoing through the chamber.

Azrail exhaled sharply, her mind racing.

She was trapped.

For now.

But she wouldn't stay that way for long.

Then, just beyond the door—a whisper of movement. Slow. Deliberate. Listening.

Azrail's jaw set, her determination hardening like steel.

Asmodeus had made a mistake bringing her here.

Because when she got out—and she would—he was going to regret it.