Page 26

Dani

Adonis left me so I could process everything he just said. I didn’t really want him to go, but I need some space.

Getting out of bed, I realize how incredibly sore I am. In the best ways, of course… I have never been ravished like that before by anyone, let alone three guys in a row.

Adonis can’t heal me; that is just a Dax and Killian thing. Just like he can read my thoughts, but they can’t. Every demon has different abilities.

I now understand the relationship between Dax, Killian, and Adonis.

It all makes sense. When Adonis was condemned to this realm, transformed into a demon from a fallen god due to his mishaps, his path crossed with Killian and Dax—two souls condemned from the afterlife.

Their meeting was no coincidence; fate had knitted their destinies together long before they met.

This created a strong bond that most people would never understand, a deeper purpose that resonates between them like an unbreakable chain.

When Adonis told me he had fallen in love with Octavia, my blood boiled with jealousy.

She manipulated him into believing they were mates so she could use him and his powers.

She siphoned off a fragment of his soul to bolster her own strength.

To prevent Adonis from following her, she trapped him in this town, along with all the other demons, angels, and spirits.

My jealousy shifted to unadulterated rage.

Little twat. I hate her so much.

Unfortunately for her, she was captured and burned right outside of the town lines, deep within the woods.

Adonis could do nothing but watch and listen to her anguished screams mingled with the crackling flames.

He said in that moment of despair, she unleashed all of her magic, a dark influence—responsible for the shadowmires that prowl through the fog.

When she trapped the supernatural beings here, she unwittingly tethered her essence to this place forever.

Fragments of Octavia’s soul are ensnared within the confines of this town, a grim echo if her self-imposed curse.

Adonis also said that being confined here severely inhibits their ability to access their full potential and strips them of their majestic wings.

Even with their celestial masks on, and their demonic runes etched into their skin, they are unable to harness their full power.

He expressed that this persistent state of restriction leaves them feeling incomplete as if a vital part of their essence is missing.

The weight of this incompleteness wreaks havoc on their minds, driving them to the brink of madness.

Wings… Damn, would I love to see my men with huge, majestic wings.

The curse can only be broken by a true mate of the demons, something Octavia thought would never be possible. That mate is to find the grimoire and Adonis’ necklace and read the spell.

That mate is me.

I sigh.

Choosing my guys over the town was an easy choice.

I don’t have to dwell over it. I know my choice carries possible repercussions, but I will face any consequence to secure their freedom and restore their true selves.

Their struggles are my own, and I refuse to stand by while they suffer.

Fuck this town. I don’t care if it rains every day.

However, I do care that dark creatures roam in the fog of the woods.

My mind goes back to that poor woman from Keepers of the Mist who was torn apart, likely by a shadowmire.

But I have made up my mind resolutely. For too long, I have lived my life in the service of others, constantly tending to their emotions and needs, often at the expense of my own desires.

It wasn’t until I crossed the threshold of 30 years old that a profound shift began to weave itself into the fabric of my perspective—the time had come to embrace a particular brand of selfishness—a radical idea that now feels almost liberating.

So, selfishly, I yearn for Adonis, Dax, and Killian, craving the intoxicating connection we share, wanting them all to myself.

I want to set them free, give them back their wings, and release them back to their rightful place in the afterlife—a decision filled with love for each of them.

Yet, even though the choice is easy for me, a storm of uncertainty brews within me.

What does this mean for my future? Will I ever get to see them again if they are freed?

Can they still drift into my life from their realm, or will they become nothing more than distant echoes of memories?

I didn’t have the courage to ask that question yet.

That’s the part that tugs so painfully at my heart, leaving a hollow ache in the space they will inevitably leave behind.

Ugh. I’m in over my head.

I need to clear my mind, so I put on my running gear, grab my headphones, and go for a jog outside.

My jogging trail winds through the woods, so I carry a pocketknife in my leggings pocket for safety, even though I’ve run this trail countless times without any issues.

Thirty minutes slip by, and I find myself deep on the trail nestled within the heart of the woods.

I pause to catch my breath and remove my headphones.

The rhythmic symphony of nature surrounds me as I settle onto a weathered tree trunk draped in velvety moss.

The earthy aroma of damp soil and vibrant foliage fills the air, invigorated by the gentle, misty rain that softly kisses my skin.

I tilt my head back, allowing the cool droplets to cascade across my face, a refreshing balm against the warmth of my exertion.

Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush catches my attention. Instantly alert, I look around. The world around me sharpens as I scan the shadowy edges of the forest for the source of the sound.

Nothing.

“Hello? Is someone there?” I quickly stand and look around.

My eyes widen as fog forms a few hundred feet ahead of me. “Oh, fuck.”

I know better than to stand around and wait to see what is beyond that. I quickly grab my pocketknife and start running. It’s not the smartest idea to run with a sharp knife in my hand, but fuck it.

The fog descends with an unsettling swiftness, cocooning me like a ghostly shroud.

I weave between trees, plunging into the woods, unable to continue on my jogging path. I dodge tree branch after tree branch, but the branches on the ground bite into my legs.

Laughter reverberates through the dense canopy of trees, bouncing off the gnarled trunks and weaving through the underbrush. It’s an eerie sound, distinct and haunting, that echoes in an almost otherworldly way.

I keep my feet moving and quickly glance behind me. The fog is getting closer.

Just as I turn my head, I run into a rigid body, sinking my knife into the chest of a person. No, not just a person. My father.

“Danika...” he says weakly as blood gushes from his chest. I hold the knife that is still inside of him—petrified, I start to shake.

“Danika, this is all your fault. I’m dead because of you.” I tremble as my father’s blood soaks his shirt and my hand.

What kind of sick trick is this ?

I scream, “This isn’t real! You’re already dead!”

I pull my knife from his body, and he evaporates into the fog. I start running again and yell, “Help! Someone help me!”

I trip on a log, and a searing pain slices through me. I hold my side and gasp for air.

My knife sliced through my shirt, leaving a large gash in my skin. Blood gushes out, and I press my hand against my side to try and stop the bleeding.

“Ah!” I whimper. Guess that’s what I get for running with a knife in my hand.

My father’s voice resonates in my mind. I rise to my feet and push forward to get the fuck away, each movement igniting a sharp pain that radiates through my side.

The fog thickens all around me, and I have nowhere to go.

Tendrils of mist creep in from all directions, swirling around my legs and climbing upwards, obscuring my vision and altering my sense of space.

It feels as if the world has melted away, leaving only the damp chill of the air and the haunting whispers of the unseen.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Think, Dani!

I’m not wearing Adonis’ necklace, and I fear there is no way for me to summon any of them. I try speaking to Adonis anyway, through my mind.

Adonis, please, help me. I’m in the woods. I’m not sure how far I am, but I need you!

I press my back against the sturdy trunk of a great oak tree, its ancient bark rough and weathered against my skin.

The deep grooves and ridges scrape gently along my arms as I attempt to nestle myself into the hollow cavity within.

The tree’s massive form provides a sense of refuge, shielding me from the fog and my father.

The earthy scent of the wood fills my senses, grounding me in this moment.

I close my eyes tightly and take a deep, shaky breath.

“Ooooh, Danika. Daddy’s home. Where are you, Danika?” My father’s voice sends an eerie chill down my body. My father is dead, and I know damn well that thing is not him.

I hold my knife out in front of me. Careful not to make a sound, I take my bloodied hand off my wound and place my hand over my mouth.

The fog rolls in front of my feet, and I hold my breath.

A creature begins to materialize from the swirling mist, its silhouette emerging like a specter from another realm.

Each movement of its hunched frame is accompanied by a chorus of creaks and cracks as if the fog is shaping it into existence.

Draped in tangled, matted black fur, it shudders, sending droplets of rain cascading off its damp coat.

Shadowmire.

It lifts its long arms and swats the tree right in front of me, cutting it down with its razor-sharp claws.

Tears stream down my face as I clutch my mouth like my life depends on it. God, I’m an idiot for taking this trial!

Drip. Drip. Drip.

My blood drips on the cold ground, landing on the dried leaves.