Chapter 3
The rain hadn't stopped. It drummed endlessly against the stained-glass windows of the Order's compound, washing away the scent of holy oil and burning incense that clung to the corridors.
Arielle sat alone in the healing hall, her robe still damp and torn. The talisman she carried—once bright as dawn—now rested dull and cracked on the metal tray beside her. Every now and then, it pulsed faintly, as if trying to remember how to shine.
She couldn't stop replaying what happened in the cathedral.
The light. The shadows. His voice.
Lucien.
Every time she whispered the name in her head, her chest ached like it was echoing something that wasn't supposed to exist inside her.
The healer assigned to her, Sister Rae, had finished tending to her burns hours ago. Still, Arielle hadn't moved. Her hands were steady, but her pulse wasn't. Her skin felt colder than the marble floor beneath her boots.
The door creaked open.
"Still awake?"
Master Jin's voice broke through her thoughts. He entered with a slow step, the scent of rain and smoke following him. His coat hung heavy with moisture, his face unreadable.
"You should be resting," he said.
Arielle rose from the cot. "You said he was gone."
"He is," Jin said evenly. "Vanished before the seal could take full hold. The residual energy at the cathedral confirms it."
"Then why does it feel like he isn't?"
Her voice came out softer than she intended, trembling with something she didn't understand.
Jin's eyes sharpened. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated. She couldn't tell him about the whisper she'd heard after Lucien vanished—or the warmth that lingered under her skin. The Order would call it contamination. And contamination meant confinement, or worse—purification.
"It's nothing," she said finally. "Just exhaustion."
He studied her for a moment longer. "You faced an ancient entity. You're lucky to be alive."
"I don't feel lucky."
Jin's tone softened. "Arielle… demons twist truth. You know this. Whatever words he spoke, whatever face he wore—it was meant to weaken you."
"I know."
"Then forget him."
But she couldn't. Even as Jin left the room, the words echoed like a command she was powerless to follow. Forget him.
Yet the more she tried, the clearer he became in her memory—the sound of his voice, the faint sorrow behind his smile, the way he had looked at her as if he knew her far longer than a few minutes.
A sudden spark of pain burned across her wrist. She hissed, lifting her sleeve.
A faint mark had appeared—thin, black, like the trace of smoke under the skin. It pulsed once, in rhythm with her heartbeat, before fading.
Her breath quickened. "No…"
The air around her shifted, the lights flickering as her aura flared uncontrolled. She pressed her hand against her chest, forcing her power to steady. But for a moment, she could almost feel him—Lucien—like a shadow brushing against her soul.
His voice whispered faintly in the back of her mind.
> You can't destroy me, Arielle. We are bound far deeper than Heaven ever told you.
She stumbled back, clutching the cot's edge.
Bound? What did he mean?
Before she could think further, the door opened again—this time, it wasn't Jin.
Three robed figures entered, the High Council of the Order. Their presence carried weight enough to make the air feel heavier.
"Exorcist Arielle Han," said the eldest, Sister Valen. "We require your report."
Arielle lowered her gaze. "Yes, Elder."
"You engaged with a Class-A entity without completing full ward containment. Explain why."
"The seal had already weakened," Arielle said. "I acted to prevent the demon from breaching the northern barrier."
"You failed to neutralize him," Valen said sharply. "And you brought back a corrupted relic."
Arielle looked at the broken talisman. Its light flickered faintly, like a dying ember.
"I believe the entity is connected to the old Cathedral of Ruen," she said carefully. "The sigils on the walls match the Pre-Ascension script. He mentioned a curse—"
"Demons always mention curses," Valen interrupted. "Their lies are meant to shake your faith."
"But—"
"Enough."
The youngest councilor, Brother Kain, spoke this time, his tone less harsh but no kinder. "You've always been one of our best, Arielle. But your father made the same mistake once—believing a demon's words. Don't follow his path."
Her stomach turned. "My father's death had nothing to do with belief."
"Didn't it?" Valen's voice was cold. "He tried to purify a creature he pitied. He thought mercy could save corruption. It killed him."
The words hit like a slap. Arielle bowed her head, gripping her robe until her knuckles whitened.
Valen's gaze lingered on her. "You will take two days to recover. Then, you'll be reassigned. The cathedral is to be sealed. You are forbidden from returning there."
"Yes, Elder," Arielle said quietly.
The council departed, their footsteps fading down the hall, leaving behind the echo of judgment.
Arielle sank back onto the cot, staring at her cracked talisman.
She should have felt anger. Or fear. Or even relief. But all she felt was a hollow ache—and that faint, impossible pull in her chest.
When she finally left the hall, the rain had stopped. The sky was still dark, but the moon had broken through, silver light spilling across the courtyard. She walked past the gardens, where white lilies glowed faintly in the damp night. Her steps slowed as she reached the old stone wall.
Her fingers brushed against the damp surface—and her hand burned.
The same faint black mark shimmered again beneath her skin, like ink moving on its own.
This time, she didn't pull away. She let her power rise, golden light spiraling around her wrist. But the mark didn't vanish—it pulsed brighter, answering her aura like it knew her.
Then—just for an instant—she saw him.
Not truly, not solidly, but as a silhouette in her mind's eye: Lucien, standing in the same rain, somewhere far away, his crimson eyes turned toward her.
He looked tired. Pained. But when he spoke, his voice brushed her thoughts like a shadow.
> You feel it too, don't you? The bond.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
> Don't fight it, Arielle.
His tone was softer now, almost pleading.
> The harder you resist, the more it will hurt.
The vision shattered, leaving her breathless. She pressed her hand to her heart, feeling it race against her ribs. The night around her was silent again, but she knew—knew—that somewhere out there, the demon she'd tried to destroy was still alive.
And somehow, impossibly—
He was connected to her.