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??Death Is A Vow

Dorian

She almost died.

That thought repeated like a cursed mantra in my skull.

I’d faced monsters that wore human skin. I had walked into courtrooms teeming with evil, defended Devils and danced with saints, but nothing, nothing, compared to the hollow ache that tore through me when her pulse stopped under my hands.

Ember.

The fire I never wanted to need. The light that makes the shadows inside me bearable. She was dying , and I… I unraveled.

And I won’t let it happen again.

She’s more than a prophecy. More than a weapon. She’s mine . And I’d paint the world red before I let it touch her again.

So, I made a choice.

From now on, she went everywhere I did. I’d teach her to fight humans, demons, creatures with too many mouths and not enough souls.

If justice wouldn’t serve them, we would.

Together.

Because love wasn’t soft.

It’s brutal. And I would be the most brutal version of myself if it meant she walked beside me instead of beneath the dirt.

Three Weeks Later

We were parked outside a rotted Victorian house that leaned too far into the wind, windows like eyes that didn’t blink. The stench of old blood and decay clung to the walls like wallpaper.

Inside lived Evelyn Wren, sixty-two, but still looks twenty-two, pale as powdered bone, and the proud owner of a not-so-secret appetite for infant flesh.

Yes. Babies .

To stay young.

She bathed in their blood, wore their skin like silk, and whispered lullabies to their ghosts.

And I got her off.

Because that’s the job.

But this? This is justice .

“I can’t believe this is our first date,” Ember said beside me, strapping on her holster like it’s a belt accessory.

I glanced sideways, lips twitching. “You didn’t like the last one? I bled half a forest trying to save you.”

She smirked. “Yeah, but this one comes with snacks.”

“I don’t think roasted child eater pairs well with wine.”

She shrugged. “Maybe a dry red.”

I grinned and grabbed my blade, the one carved from bone and shadow. Her fingers grazed mine. “This is really happening, huh?” she murmured, a flicker of awe in her voice.

“Yes, Little Thief, this is really happening,” I murmured back, letting the words slide over her skin like a vow. “And all this comes with perks. Murder, magic, and me.”

She rolled her eyes. “So basically, a lifetime subscription to hell.”

I kissed her forehead. “Only the parts we don’t rule.”

The front door creaked as we stepped inside. The air’s thick with rot and glamoured lies, but I sliced through both with a flick of my will.

The illusion dropped. The house was worse in reality, gutted nursery furniture, cracked porcelain dolls smeared in blood, jars filled with teeth.

Evelyn Wren appeared at the top of the stairs, her youthful glamor fading fast. Her true form was gaunt, lips blackened, eyes like hollow pits.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite defense attorney,” she crooned, stepping slowly into view. “Come to finish what the court couldn’t?”

I tilted my head, Ember stepping beside me, knife already in hand. “Actually, I wanted to introduce you to my Little Thief.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s that?” She crooned.

“My wife .” I answered, watching her face scrunch.

Evelyn sneered. “She looks barely old enough to bleed.”

“Oh, I do,” Ember said sweetly. “But not the way you’re used to.”

Before Evelyn could even twitch, Ember’s blade cut through the air like a comet, glowing with sigils etched in blood and fury.

It struck the charm around the witch’s throat, an ancient talisman pulsing with stolen life, and shattered it into ash and screaming light.

Evelyn shrieked as the spellwork unraveled. Her skin split open like overripe fruit, revealing bones blackened by centuries of dark magic. Veins burst. Her glamor melted in a hiss of steam, leaving her twisted and skeletal, crawling backward with raw, brittle fingers.

“I could’ve lived forever!” she screeched, her voice cracking like glass.

“You stole forever,” Ember said coldly, stepping into the shadows of her flame lit wrath. “Now choke on what’s left.”

The witch lunged, feral and fast, but Ember was faster. Her free hand ignited, dripping with spectral fire, while her dagger plunged into Evelyn’s gut, magic coursing through the blade like lightning in a storm. The wound hissed, bubbled, then bloomed like a curse unleashed.

Evelyn howled.

I moved behind her, gripping her jaw and forcing her head back until her spine cracked. Ember whispered a spell in the old tongue, her voice a blade itself, binding the witch’s scream in her throat. Blood poured, thick and black, coating the dagger, the floor, Ember’s hands.

“Say goodnight, grandma,” she snarled, eyes burning.

She twisted.

The blade detonated inside Evelyn’s body with a pulse of crimson light, veins unraveling, her soul ripping free in a final, silent gasp.

The body hit the floor.

Hollow. Smoldering. Done.

And Ember didn’t flinch.

Outside, under the sickle moon, Ember exhaled slowly, eyes glowing with silver light. I took her hand. She didn’t pull away. “I’m going to get good at this,” she said.

“You already are.”

“You really mean it?” she asked, glancing up. “The whole... Little Theif thing?”

I smirked. “You’re mine. Signed. Sealed. Delivered.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stuck with me.”

She smiled. And in that moment, I knew: The world might still bleed, the Veil might tremble, the war might rage… But I had her.

And she had me.