The demon sighed inward, a soundless ripple of frustration that never reached its lips. No matter how many times it tried to erode Cassius's memories, how carefully it had tried to morph the insides of his mind, weaving forgetful spell, putting him in a trance as though half asleep, there was always one thread it couldn't snap. And it was Arabella.
Every time her name lingered unspoken on its tongue, every time her image brushed the edges of Cassius's mind, the man's composure cracked in some small, stubborn way.
His crimson eyes would flicker, his pulse would return, a tremor of something alive would ripple beneath that otherwise impenetrable calm. He would shift, almost imperceptibly, as if some part of him were already clawing its way back to the surface. He would immediately feel desperate to return.
