Chapter 53 – Let Me In

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I see the wounds you try to hide. The faith that broke, the tears you dried. You bear the weight of light and sin.Yet still, I find myself drawn in.

I do not seek to steal your will. Or shape your heart, or make it still. I only wish, when fear is through. That you might choose to see me too.

You fight, you burn, you call me wrong. But pain has been your prayer too long. If love should bloom where faith once bled. Would you still curse the hand you dread?

So rest, my flame, I’ll make no plea. The choice remains with you, not me. For all I ask, when all is done. Is not your soul… but your love.

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I exhaled, the words leaving me as little more than a tremor.

“…Just kill me.”

She tilted her head, crimson eyes glinting as they turned toward me over her shoulder. The smirk that touched her lips was almost gentle—almost.

That gaze lingered a heartbeat too long before she turned, that terrifying smirk softening into something tender.

I blinked.

And she was gone.

The space she’d occupied only a moment ago hung empty, humming faintly, as if the air itself still remembered her shape. My pulse faltered. Before I could draw another breath, warmth bloomed against my back.

Arms—soft yet unyielding—slipped around my waist. Her body pressed close, molding to mine, her chest firm against my back, warmth seeping through skin and bone. Her breath traced the side of my neck, steady. The faint scent of roses—sweet, dangerous—filled my lungs. Her chin came to rest on my shoulder, and when she spoke, her voice brushed my ear like a secret meant to be felt more than heard.

“And why,” she murmured, each word drawn out slow, “would I do that?” She paused—a soft, thoughtful sound, almost amused.

“Didn’t I tell you already? I want to know more about you.”

Her voice wasn’t cruel, but the softness in it made everything worse. Each word landed with purpose, meant to slide beneath my skin and stay there.

I tried to pull away, but my body refused to obey. It wasn’t paralyzed—I felt everything—but every command I sent dissolved before it reached my limbs. Her presence held me fast, a quiet prison that pulsed with warmth, and I hated how safe it felt.

“Then, what do you want from me?” I whispered, my voice breaking under its own weight.

She hummed against my shoulder—a low, melodic sound, warm in a place that had no right to be. Her chin shifted, her breath sliding across my skin, unhurried, indulgent.

“What do I want?” She echoed softly, as if tasting the words, weighing their truth.

Silence lingered. When she finally spoke her voice had changed—gentler, more… human. “I want you to love me. To give yourself to me, not out of fear or faith, but because you can’t imagine being anywhere else. I want the part of you that resists, the part that prays, the part that still dares to hope. Your soul, your very being… I want all of it.”

Her pause stretched thin, filled only by the sound of our breathing. It felt like she was thinking out loud—as if I wasn’t her prisoner at all, but something more.

Her arms tightened, pulling me closer. The air trembled; reality seemed to bend around us. Before my heart could catch up, she turned me in her hold with effortless grace, her hands guiding me with tender, unsettling care.

I found myself facing her—closer than before, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. She was taller than I’d realized; it was enough that I had to lift my chin to meet her gaze. Those crimson eyes burned with a quiet kindness I hadn’t thought her capable of, their depths shimmering with something vast and unreadable—like she was seeing through me, not at me.

Her presence filled the space between us. The red light from the sky clung to her like worship, painting her features in a glow that felt almost divine.

Her hands settled on my shoulders, slow and deliberate, before sliding down to encircle me again. I didn’t fight it this time. Whether it was exhaustion or something far more dangerous, I couldn’t tell.

She drew me in, my cheek brushing the soft rise of her chest. The heat of her skin seeped into mine. It should have felt like captivity, but somehow… it didn’t—it felt like standing too close to a fire and realizing too late that you no longer wanted to step back.

My body remained useless. This warmth—this unbearable, real warmth—bled through, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell which frightened me more: her power, or the comfort it offered.

Time slipped by—I couldn’t tell how long she held me, only that her presence silenced everything else. The world beyond her arms felt distant, unreal, as if it might vanish the moment I looked away.

The silence was peaceful—strangely gentle, a kind of calm I hadn’t felt in years. I was so lost in it that I didn’t notice her move until the world shifted beneath me. One arm slipped under my knees, the other steadied my back, and before I could think, the ground was gone. She lifted me as though I weighed nothing, holding me close against her chest.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up—my arms reached around her neck before I even realized what I was doing.

The instant I did, my breath caught. I could move again. My fingers trembled against her skin, and the realization struck with a quiet panic—I was no longer bound. I pulled away quickly, heat rushing to my face.

But she noticed. Her lips curved, a soft chuckle escaping her. That sound—low, amused, fond—sent a shiver crawling up my neck. Before I knew it, I’d turned my face away, trying to hide the blush that betrayed me.

What was wrong with me? A knight of faith, blushing before another demon. The thought almost made me laugh—how pathetic. Maybe I’d already started to fall.

“Put me down,” I managed, twisting against her hold. But her arms didn’t budge. They were gentle—almost lazy in their strength—yet I couldn’t move an inch. It was like struggling against the calm weight of steel itself.

She carried me toward the tree at the heart of this accursed place, her steps unhurried, each one measured. The air seemed to bend around her, shimmering faintly as if the world itself yielded to her presence. When she reached the base of the tree, she sank down with effortless grace. Before I could react, I was already on her lap—caught once more in her embrace, as though my defiance had never mattered.

I opened my mouth to speak—to demand, to plead, I wasn’t sure—but her voice came first. It was gentle again, the kind of tone that could make even fear feel safe.

“I don’t know what it is,” she murmured, her breath grazing my ear, “but from the moment I saw you, something in me… was drawn to you. I can see it in your eyes—it’s as if you’ve lived what I’ve lived.”

Her lips brushed my cheek. “I want to see for myself,” she whispered. “Will you let me in?”

The question cut straight through me. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, the word tearing from my throat before I could stop it.

“No!”

I could feel my heart pounding, each beat trembling on the edge of fear and anger. “I know your kind, demon. My body’s already as good as yours. I’d rather die than let you take what’s left of me.”

Her response wasn’t anger. It was laughter—soft, playful, threaded with that same impossible gentleness.

“My little Eliza,” she murmured, smiling faintly, “if I wanted your body, I would’ve taken it already.”

She leaned back slightly, crimson eyes gleaming with a warmth that didn’t belong to a creature like her.

“No,” she said softly, almost wistful. “That’s not what I want. I only wish to see what you’ve endured—to glimpse my daughter’s past.”

The word daughter cut deeper than any blade. My breath caught, the sound dying in my throat as the meaning sank in. She’d said that before.

And now I understood—she meant to do to me what she’d done to Ysara.

“Daughter?” The word left my mouth like a curse, disbelief cutting sharper than fear.

“You think I’m like Ysara? That I’d break as she did?” My voice trembled, caught between anger and something I refused to name. “I’ve spent years in the light’s service—I won’t fall so easily. Not to you, Demon.”

I held her gaze and refused to look away.

She didn’t argue. She didn’t even seem offended. Instead, her lips curved a little more. Slowly, she raised her hands and cupped my face, her touch so gentle it felt wrong, cruel in its tenderness. Her thumbs traced idle circles against my skin, as though she were soothing a child.

“I was right,” she murmured. “You do remind me of myself.”

Her voice was soft, but there was weight behind it. “I was like that once—defiant, afraid, so sure I understood what strength meant.” A faint breath of laughter escaped her. “Or at least, I thought I did.”

Her gaze drifted upward, and for a moment her voice seemed to belong to another time entirely. “It took years… and one very stubborn demon… to show me the truth.”

When her eyes returned to mine, the warmth there had shifted. What had once felt human now carried something deeper.

“But you,” she whispered, leaning closer, “I won’t need years to make you see. No, my dear… I’ll show you right here. Right now.”

Her hands slipped from my face, and a strange stillness followed. The words she’d spoken sank deeper than they should have, and for a moment, all I could do was stare.

I didn’t know what she meant—didn’t want to—but my mind betrayed me, conjuring every horror I’d ever heard whispered about high ranking demons. The stealing of souls, the burning of faith, the slow, sweet corruption that left nothing but obedience behind. I could almost feel it then—her power curling close, tasting the cracks in my resolve.

No. I wouldn’t let her. I’d rather die than be hollowed out.

Still, when she leaned back against the tree, drawing me with her as if gravity itself obeyed her, my body obeyed before my will did. The defiance I clung to felt paper-thin; ready to tear at the first touch of her voice.

She looked down at me—no malice in her eyes, only that unbearable calm. “Earlier,” she said softly, “I asked you to let me in. I did it out of kindness.”

Her thumb brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, a tender motion that felt wrong in every way.

“But kindness,” she continued, her tone deepening into something colder, older, “is a luxury I don’t often need. If you won’t open the door, Eliza, I’ll simply… find a crack.”

A chill ran through me, fear twisting sharp beneath my ribs. “You’ll find none,” I managed, forcing strength into my voice that I didn’t feel. “I’ve fought through hundreds of battles, hardened my resolve with every breath. There’s nothing left you can use against me.”

The demon’s smile curved, slow and knowing. She drew closer, her lips stopping a whisper from my ear. “Oh, my brave little knight,” she murmured, “you’re wrong.”

The warmth of her breath traced my skin, and I felt her smirk even before she spoke again.

“I already have one.”