The figure stepped forward.
Kiran's breath hitched with pure, animal fear. The candles had died. The shadows had stilled. Yet he moved as if darkness was simply another room he owned.
Tall. Impossibly so. Dressed in black that drank the moonlight instead of reflecting it. His face was exactly as her dreams had pledged—sharp, severe, beautiful in a way that felt like a warning. Storm-dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that held her in place.
He stopped close enough to steal the air between them.
Cold rolled off him in slow waves. Not a chill—an absence of warmth, like winter had learned to breathe.
And he was breathing.
Alive.
Real.
Kiran's palm burned. The mark from the ritual glowed faintly, lines and curves forming a symbol she didn't recognize yet dread insisted she should.
She swallowed and forced her spine straight.
She was Kiran Lee. A girl who lived with death on her shoulder. She wasn't about to collapse on her bedroom floor because a nightmare stepped out of the dark.
"Who… who are you?"
His lips curved. Not quite a smile. Something sharper.
"You performed a ritual to break your curse," he said, his voice low—velour wrapped around steel. "And instead, you woke me."
"The devil," Kiran whispered. The dream-words scraped up from memory. "The dream said I awakened the devil."
Something moved behind his eyes—brief, unreadable.
"Did it now?"
Fear tried to rise again. Kiran crushed it and reached for the only thing that had ever kept her standing.
Defiance.
She took a step toward him instead of away. "I don't know who you are, Mr. Shadow Man, but I tried to get rid of my heart curse. I didn't ask for you."
His gaze sharpened a fraction.
Mortals didn't speak to him like that. Mortals didn't look at him like he was an inconvenience instead of a warning carved into reality. Yet she stood there—hands unsteady, feet planted—like he was the intruder.
He moved slowly, deliberately, bending just enough to bring his face closer to hers. Not kindness. Curiosity.
"Mr. Shadow Man?" he repeated, as if tasting the insult.
His gaze swept her with quiet, thorough attention: dark hair framing her face, the stubborn set of her mouth, the heat in her eyes that refused to go out even with terror standing in her room.
"Blue eyes," he murmured, almost to himself. Something like derision touched his mouth—brief and dangerous. "Unfortunate."
Kiran blinked. "Unfortunate?"
He straightened, the moment erased as if it had never happened.
"You want answers, daring one," he said.
"My name is Kiran."
His expression didn't change. "I know."
Kiran's stomach turned. "How?"
"You've been dreaming of me." His voice lowered. "And I've been listening."
The words landed hard.
He knew about the dreams.
Kiran's fingers curled at her sides. "Then call me by my name."
"I'll call you what fits," he replied, calm as winter. "You stand there arguing with me when you should be begging a god to wake you. That makes you daring."
Kiran drew breath to snap back, but he was already moving—turning away, as if she were a solved problem. He crossed to the window and pulled the curtain aside, staring out over the sleeping city like he was measuring it.
"You performed a ritual," he said, his voice quieter now. "You woke me. And now we're bound."
Bound.
The word struck her ribs.
Kiran braced herself against the edge of her bed. "So break it. Break the curse. That's why you're here, right?"
His head tilted slightly. "The curse is not mine to break."
Hope—stupid, caved—bright into anger. "Then why did you come?"
He fell silent long enough for the room to feel heavier.
When he spoke again, the words came softer. "Because I'm caught in it too."
Kiran shook her head, sharp and disbelieving. "That makes no sense. The curse has been my burden. My whole life—the pain, the doctors, the countdown. It makes no sense."
Lucian turned.
Those eyes pinned her so completely she forgot to blink.
"Was it?" he asked.
He stepped closer. Kiran's spine met the wall before she realized she'd backed up.
"The ritual you performed," he said, each word measured, "didn't erase the curse. It woke it. It completed what was already reaching for you." His gaze flicked to her palm. "The dreams, the chamber, the candles, and me… that wasn't random. That was the curse stitching."
Kiran's head swam. "I don't… I can't…"
"It's not a dream," he said, and there was no patience in it. "It's a bond."
"Prove it," Kiran snapped, defiance leaping out before fear could stop it.
Lucian studied her.
Then, slowly, he raised a hand—not touching her, only hovering near her cheek.
Cold brushed her skin like frost that refused to melt.
"If this were a dream," he murmured, "would your body answer?"
Kiran shivered. Not only from the cold. Something else curled in her chest—warm and wrong—like her heart recognized him and resented it.
She jerked away, severing the invisible line between them. "Fine. You're real. This is real." Her hand flew to her chest. "But my heart—why isn't it hurting? What did you do?"
Lucian's gaze dropped to her hand, then returned to her eyes. "Nothing. The bond stabilizes the curse."
Kiran's voice sharpened. "Stabilizes?"
"For now," he said, blunt.
"What does that mean?"
"It means it still counts down." His tone held no softness. "It still kills you." He stepped closer, and his voice lowered like calm-blade. "The bond shares the weight. What hurts you, touches me. What breaks you…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Kiran stared at him, throat closing. "Why should I believe you?"
"You shouldn't," he said simply.
"Then why tell me any of this?"
He paused.
His eyes held hers, and for a brief second the cold in his face looked less like cruelty and more like restraint.
"Because you're meant to know," he said quietly. "And because the bond doesn't care what either of us wants."
Kiran glanced at the pulsing symbol on her palm, then back at him. "I don't trust you."
"I don't recall asking you to."
"I don't like you."
"Noted."
"I'm not going to make this easy."
A sardonic flicker crossed his eyes. "I don't expect you to."
Kiran crossed her arms. "Good. As long as we understand each other, Mr. Shadow Man."
His lips twitched. Barely. "Lucian."
"What?"
"My name," he said, like it cost him to give it. "If you're going to curse my existence, at least do it properly."
Kiran blinked then, against her will, the corner of her mouth twitched too.
"Lucian," she repeated. The name slid through her mind like silk over a cut.
He watched her say it. Something shifted in his expression—gone as quickly as it came.
"Rest," he said, already turning toward the corner where shadows pooled thicker than the rest of the room. "We'll speak again."
"Wait… where are you going?"
"Where I can exist without tearing your world open." His eyes lingered on hers for a single breath. "If you need me, I'll know. The bond moves both ways."
"Lucian—"
Darkness folded around him like a cloak. He dissolved into it, as if the shadows were swallowing what belonged to them.
And then he was gone.
Kiran stood frozen while silence rushed back into the room.
The mark on her palm kept glowing. His voice kept echoing in her head.
Lucian.
She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart beat steady, as if it had chosen a rhythm and dared the universe to argue.
It should have felt like relief.
Instead, it felt like a new kind of danger.
§***
Morning dragged itself through her curtains, pale and relentless.
Kiran hadn't slept.
She'd spent hours staring at the ceiling, palm pressed to her chest as if she could hold her heart in place by force.
No ache. No warning throb.
A miracle… or bait?
She sat up and shoved damp hair off her face. The mark on her palm caught the light—intricate lines pulsing faintly, as if something beneath her skin was breathing.
She'd tried washing it off. Scrubbing it raw. Ice. Soap. Heat.
Nothing.
It wasn't ink.
It was her.
She let out a slow breath. "No," she whispered to the empty room. "I don't accept this."
But her heart kept beating steady, stubborn as ever.
And deep in the back of her mind, the devil had a name.
Lucian.
Either she had summoned him…
Or she had finally stopped being able to ignore what was already reaching for her.
§***
The hotel lobby buzzed with its usual motion—luggage wheels, bright greetings, perfume and polished marble.
Kiran moved through it with her uniform crisp and her smile practiced, but her mind kept slipping toward the cold in her ribs.
She was halfway past the concierge desk when someone slid into step beside her.
"Hey, sunshine," Jace said, too casual. "You look… functional. Who are you and what have you done with Kiran?"
Kiran snorted, despite herself. "Doing just enough to not fail."
He tipped his head, studying her a second too long. "Coffee later?"
Kiran hesitated. "Sure."
His smile returned—relief too quick to be subtle. "Cool. Great. Awesome. I'll bribe the universe for five minutes of peace."
"Good luck," she said dryly. "The universe hates you."
"It's jealousy," he replied, walking backward with a grin before turning away.
Kiran watched him go.
Then the cold presence in her mind stirred—subtle as breath on glass.
Her shoulders rose instinctively.
Go away, she thought fiercely.
She exhaled, forced her smile back into place, and kept walking.
Work comes first. Panic later.
§***
The massive living room blazed with light.
A crystal chandelier threw prismatic reflections across marble floors. The furniture was modern, expensive, aggressively tasteful—sleek sofas, abstract art, a bar stocked with bottles that cost more than most people's rent.
And in the middle of it all, Zephyr was being Zephyr.
"I'm telling you, Kai, he's been sealed for centuries. Centuries! Do you understand what that does to a man's personality?" Zephyr took a dramatic sip of wine and swirled the glass as if he was auditioning for a role he already deserved. "The cold bastard broods. His glare gives chills. He makes the air feel like a funeral. And now? I just wish he stays sealed forever."
Kai didn't respond.
He sat across from Zephyr with a glass of whiskey untouched at his elbow, his gaze fixed on nothing, expression uncertain.
Zephyr waved a hand in front of Kai's face. "Hello? Earth to Kai? I'm performing here."
Kai blinked slowly. "You're being loud."
"Loud is my calling."
"Your calling is exhausting."
Zephyr gasped. "Rude. So rude. And here I am, your favorite person, your alibi, your..."
The temperature dropped.
The chandelier flickered. Twice.
Shadows thickened at the edges of the room like ink bleeding through paper.
Then a voice cut through the air—clean and cold.
"One more word, I'll remove your tongue and use it as decoration."
Zephyr froze with his glass halfway to his mouth.
Kai's gaze snapped sharp.
They both turned.
Lucian stood in the archway, darkness clinging to his shoulders like a living cloak. His expression was carved from ice—ancient, unreadable, merciless. His storm-gray eyes swept the room as if measuring every heartbeat inside it.
Zephyr's wine sloshed.
"Lu… Lucian?" Zephyr blinked rapidly, like blinking could undo reality. "How...when...why are you...why are you here?"
Lucian stepped forward. The shadows followed.
"I realized I left business unfinished," Lucian said coldly. "And the first thing I hear is you calling me a cold bastard."
Zephyr swallowed. "No it's just Context."
"You said I give you chills."
"That was a compliment!" Zephyr squeaked. "Chills are good! Like thrillers! Like expensive air conditioners..."
Kai pinched the bridge of his nose.
Zephyr turned on him, desperate. "Tell him it was a compliment."
Kai's voice stayed even. "It was not."
Zephyr's eyes went wide. "Traitor."
Lucian walked past Zephyr close enough that Zephyr flinched, then settled into the largest armchair like a king reclaiming territory. His gaze moved over the space—furniture, lighting, art...then returned to them.
"The house," Lucian said. "It has changed. Explain."
Kai stepped forward, careful. "The mortal world changed while you were sealed. We adapted. Kept the estate hidden, functional, relevant."
"Modernized," Lucian repeated, voice empty of approval.
Zephyr who physically could not stay quiet bounced forward again, trying to reclaim oxygen. "Everything is smart now! Smart lights, smart locks, smart..."
Lucian looked at him.
Zephyr stopped mid-word.
Kai murmured, almost kindly, "Breathe, Zeph."
Zephyr didn't take his eyes off Lucian. "I can't breathe. He's looking at me."
Lucian's gaze did not move.
Zephyr's voice dropped to a frantic whisper. "Kai. He's still looking."
Kai, deadpan: "Yes."
Zephyr clutched his chest dramatically. "This is how I die."
Lucian's eyes narrowed a fraction. "If you continue speaking, you will."
Zephyr nodded so fast his curls nearly took flight. "Understood. Silence. I love silence."
The shadows loosened slightly. The chandelier steadied.
Kai studied Lucian with quiet intensity. "You seem different."
Lucian's gaze cut to him. "Am I."
Kai hesitated, then said it anyway. "You feel… less distant."
A dangerous observation.
Lucian didn't punish him for it. He looked away, toward the window, toward something none of them could see.
"I'm bound," he said, the word tossed out like a verdict.
Silence slammed into the room.
Zephyr's jaw dropped. "Bound to what? Who? And why?"
Lucian didn't answer immediately. His hand rose, almost unconsciously, and pressed to his chest—over the place where the curse lived.
"A mortal," A woman. he said, giving nothing else away.
Zephyr looked at Kai. Kai looked at Zephyr. Neither seemed prepared for that sentence.
A smooth voice drifted from near the bar. "How inconvenient."
Sam emerged from shadow with a drink in hand, wearing a polite smile that didn't mean anything. "Lucian, tethered to a human. The old courts would weep."
Lucian's eyes sliced toward him. "Careful, Sam."
Sam raised both hands in mock surrender. "Only observing."
A heavier presence appeared at the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, silent as stone.
Kael.
His gaze found Lucian immediately. Something in his posture shifted—relief braided with loyalty.
"Master," Kael said, bowing his head. "You have awakened."
Lucian's expression didn't soften much but it changed. Barely. Like a blade being set down without anyone noticing.
"Kael."
Zephyr recovered just enough to lean forward, curiosity shining through fear like a bad habit. "So. Mortal. Awakened you. What's she like? Pretty? Dangerous? Does she know she's..."
The temperature dipped again.
Zephyr sat back instantly. "Right. None of my concern. I understand the thrill. I respect it."
Kai hid something like amusement behind his glass.
Lucian stood. Everyone straightened—even Kael.
"I need to understand this world," Lucian said quietly. "Its rules. Its risks." His gaze settled on Kael. "Any report?"
Kael nodded once. "Information moves faster now. Cameras. Networks. The courts stay hidden, but not all are careful. Some adapt. Some hunt. Some pretend they're human until they're close enough to bite."
Lucian's eyes darkened slightly.
"Good." His gaze swept the room. "All of you dismissed. Kael stays."
They moved. Quickly.
When the room cleared, Lucian's jaw set.
"Kael."
Kael stepped forward. "Master."
"Research something for me."
Kael's expression didn't shift. "What is it, Master?"
"Heart curse," Lucian said. "Every myth. Every record. Every scrap tied to it that survived fire and time. Find what it is."
Kael nodded once. "It will be done."
Lucian's fingers pressed harder over his chest. "And find out if it can be cut away."
Kael didn't flinch. "Yes, Master."
Lucian stared out at the city beyond the glass.
That obnoxious daring woman.
The thought came with an edge he didn't bother hiding from himself.
Behind the bar, Sam remained perfectly still.
Listening.
Smiling.
And in the quiet after Lucian's command, Sam's mouth curved as if he'd just been handed a secret worth bleeding for.
"Heart curse," he murmured, almost pleasantly.