BOUND BY FIRE AND SHADOW

Azrail's heartbeat slammed against her ribs.

The chamber around her felt like it was collapsing, though the walls remained intact. The aftermath of the battle—the scorched ground, the jagged remains of the rift flickering faintly in the distance—blurred into the background. She could still hear the faint crackling of unstable energy, the hum of power fading into silence.

But none of that mattered.

The pain in her chest consumed her. It wasn't like a wound or an ache—it was deeper, more primal, as if her very soul was being torn apart and stitched back together all at once.

She stumbled, clutching her chest, her breaths ragged and uneven. The air felt heavier, the weight pressing down on her shoulders.

She tried to step back—to retreat, to escape—only to feel an invisible force tug her forward.

Toward him.

Her eyes flicked upward, locking onto his.

Asmodeus stood a few feet away, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the chamber. He was unnervingly still, his expression calm, yet something dangerous lurked beneath the surface.

Azrail's stomach twisted as she tried to look away—but she couldn't.

The pull was undeniable now, like a thread tied between them, pulling her closer with every beat of her heart.

"What… what is this?" she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

Asmodeus didn't move. He just watched her, his gaze unwavering. "You feel it," he said, his voice low and steady.

It wasn't a question.

Azrail clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to steady her breathing. "What did you do to me?"

Asmodeus tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "I didn't do this."

"Liar," she snapped, though her voice lacked conviction.

His gaze shifted, dropping to the space between them. Azrail followed his eyes, half-expecting to see something—some visible manifestation of the force pulling her toward him. But there was nothing.

"You did," Asmodeus said softly.

Azrail froze.

Her mind rebelled against the idea. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "That's not possible. I didn't—"

"Didn't you?"

The question lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Azrail's breath hitched as memories of the battle flashed through her mind—the surge of power when she struck the creature, the way her blood had burned as if igniting something dormant inside her. Had she…?

"No," she said again, louder this time. "I didn't do anything. This—this is your doing!"

Asmodeus stepped closer, and Azrail felt the pull intensify. Her body leaned forward instinctively, betraying her attempts to resist.

"What you're feeling," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of amusement, "is a bond."

The word hit her like a punch to the gut.

Her entire body stiffened. "No," she said sharply. "That's not possible."

But even as the words left her lips, she felt it—the connection, the undeniable presence of something tying her to him. It wasn't just a pull. It was deeper than that, like a thread woven into the very fabric of her soul.

Her mind raced. Bonds were ancient magic, the kind of power whispered about in legends. They were unbreakable, a connection forged between two beings—usually by choice.

But that was the worst part. Bonds weren't one-sided.

If she felt it, then Asmodeus felt it too.

Azrail's stomach churned as the realization settled over her. She staggered back, shaking her head. "No. You're lying. I didn't choose this."

"Perhaps not intentionally," Asmodeus said, his voice infuriatingly calm. "But the bond is there."

"No," she said again, her voice rising. "This isn't real. It's a trick. Some kind of… some kind of spell!"

Asmodeus arched a brow, his smirk returning. "A spell? Do you think I'd waste my energy on something so trivial?"

"Trivial?" Azrail snapped, anger flaring in her chest. "You call this trivial?"

"Compared to the power of a bond?" he replied, his tone almost casual. "Yes. Very."

Azrail glared at him, her body trembling with equal parts rage and fear. She wanted to fight him, to lash out, but the bond—the connection—made her hesitate.

She could feel him now, like a shadow at the edge of her mind. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, yet strangely… familiar.

"What does this mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Asmodeus' smirk faded slightly, replaced by something more serious. "It means," he said, "that your soul is tied to mine."

Azrail's knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, her hands trembling. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "That's not—"

"Accept it," Asmodeus said, cutting her off. "The sooner you do, the easier it will be."

Azrail looked up at him, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I will never accept this."

Asmodeus crouched down in front of her, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "You don't have a choice," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The bond is a part of you now. And no amount of denial will change that."

Azrail's chest tightened, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Her mind raced, searching for a way out, for some way to break the bond.

"There has to be a way," she muttered. "There has to be a way to undo this."

"There isn't," Asmodeus said simply.

Azrail's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Every spell has a counter. Every curse has a cure. This is no different."

Asmodeus chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "You think this is a curse?" he asked, amusement flickering in his voice. "This is power, Azrail. Power that most beings can only dream of."

"I didn't ask for power," she spat. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"Perhaps not," he said, his smirk returning. "But it's yours now. Whether you like it or not."

Azrail clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She refused to accept this. There had to be a way to break the bond. She just needed to find it.

Asmodeus straightened, his gaze never leaving hers. "You can fight it all you want," he said, his tone almost bored. "But the bond won't break. Not unless…"

He trailed off, his crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"Not unless what?" Azrail demanded.

Asmodeus didn't answer immediately. He turned away, his gaze shifting to the shattered remains of the rift. The faint glow of unstable energy illuminated his sharp features, casting shadows across his face.

"Not unless you die," he said finally, his voice cold and detached.

Azrail's blood ran cold.

Her breath hitched, her mind reeling. Was that the only way out?

Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the faint crackling of the fading rift.

Azrail pushed herself to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her. She refused to let him see her fear.

"There has to be another way," she said, her voice firm despite the panic rising in her chest.

Asmodeus turned back to her, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps," he said. "But you won't find it by running from this."

Azrail's jaw tightened. She hated the way he spoke, as if he already knew the outcome. As if he was in control.

But he wasn't.

She wouldn't let him be.

"If this bond is a part of me now," she said, her voice steady, "then I'll find a way to control it. To control you."

Asmodeus' smirk widened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Good luck with that."

Azrail squared her shoulders, determination burning in her chest. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but one thing was certain.

She wasn't going to let him control her.

Not now.

Not ever.