Clara's POV
I woke to birdsong, soft and uncertain, the kind that feels like it doesn't dare disturb the air. Morning light spilled across the room, gilding everything in a pale glow. I turned my head—Ciel lay beside me, heavy with sleep, his body curled as if the weight of the night still pressed him down.
My heart clenched. He looked so tired, so utterly broken. Without thinking, I reached out, fingers brushing through his hair. His lashes quivered, and slowly his eyes fluttered open.
"Good morning," I whispered, startled by the tenderness in my own voice.
"Good morning, my love," he answered, voice hoarse, almost fragile. The words should have warmed me, but the smile he gave was faint and shadowed, a smile that carried more sorrow than joy. It shattered something inside me.
He pushed himself up, moving sluggishly toward the bathroom. The sound of water soon followed, steady and hollow. I sat frozen, listening, my chest sinking deeper with every splash. He was unraveling before me, and I had no words, no power to stop it. I shouldn't feel this way—I knew I shouldn't—but watching him collapse beneath his grief hurt more than I could bear.
When he returned, a dark robe draped loosely around him, I called softly, almost pleading, "Ciel?"
His weary eyes turned to me, sunken and dim. "Yes, my love?"
"Where are you going?"
"To my study," he murmured. "I won't be down for breakfast. You can eat in your room if you want."
"Alright," I whispered, but my voice was hollow.
He left, his footsteps dragging against the floor, and I kept staring at the empty doorway long after it closed. Slowly, I lay back against the sheets, eyes fixed on the ceiling. My chest tightened until it ached to breathe.
The pain was overwhelming, and I didn't understand why. It felt as though I had always known his grief, always carried his despair in some forgotten part of me. The weight of it lived in my bones, even if memory did not. I pressed my hand against my heart, shut my eyes, and tried to push it away. But the sadness clung to me like a shadow, relentless, refusing to be silenced.
Lucien's POV
"Make contact with Clara?." I asked, surprised. "It'll be next to impossible to do that with Lila escaped and Jason dead. I'm sure the place is being guarded twenty-four seven."
Asriel didn't look worried. He folded his hands, eyes cool. "Don't worry. I have spies inside who can get you in."
I frowned. "But why do I need to speak to Clara? How is that important to our plans?"
He reached into his coat and produced a small vial. Green liquid swirled inside, catching the light.
"I need you to give her this." His voice was casual.
"What's that?" I demanded.
"A serum I made," he said, the smile at the corner of his mouth thin. "It will help Clara regain her memories."
I stepped back, incredulous. "Regain her memories? Why would you want that? She'll stop trusting me, she'll get closer to Ciel, and she might tell him everything — how you've been manipulating her."
Asriel tilted his head, amusement darkening his eyes. "Lucien, Clara regaining her memories is crucial. It's the first step to reverting her to her true form." The word true hung in the air like a promise and a threat.
My mouth went dry. "What?"
He straightened, voice sharp with satisfaction. "Before you and Ciel came and saved her from the cave, I performed revival rituals to restore her memories fully. They were interrupted—thanks to both of you—so the process never finished. I expected complications. That's why I made this serum. Once her memories return, we move one step closer to the plan."
"Then why not kidnap her again and finish the ritual?" I shot back. "If she remembers, she might trust Ciel, tell him everything, and ruin us."
Asriel's smirk widened, as if my concern amused him. He rolled the vial between his fingers. "Her closeness to Ciel will actually hasten her memory's return. And once she remembers, nothing will stop me from taking her. For now, let her be. Do as you're told."
I swallowed hard. "Alright. When do I leave?"
His smile sharpened into a smirk. "Now."