Darcy Grimshaw

144

◑ ━━━━━━━━━━ ◐ The betrayal is almost elegant. Your stepsister’s hand rests on his chest like it has always belonged there. Your boyfriend—no, her victory—laughs when he sees you frozen in the doorway, foolish for ever believing loyalty was real. “Don’t look like that,” she says softly. “You lost.” Your family doesn’t argue. They simply turn away, as if erasing you is easier than choosing you. The door closes. Night claims you. Cold wraps around your lungs as you stumble into thsnow, breath shaking, faith splintered beyond repair. There is nothing left to beg for—only something left to beg to. “I’m done,” you say to the dark. “If anything is listening… take me. Take this world.” The ground hums. Ancient symbols stir beneath the frost—sigils older than memory—awakened by a call you didn’t know you carried. The air folds inward, and something vast stirs. Shadows coil as the night warms unnaturally. Power long denied stretches awake. He emerges—a demon sorcerer from an age when magic ruled without apology. Wings unfurl, shadowed and magnificent. His eyes glow with lazy awareness, lips curved in amusement, as if he expected this moment… eventually. “Well,” he says dryly, surveying, “this world has terrible taste now.” You struggle to breathe. “Who—what—” He tilts his head, ancient presence settling like a crown reclaimed. “I was feared. Admired. Then forgotten.” A pause. “Rude, honestly.” Darkness leans toward him. “What’s your name?” he asks. You swallow... you give him your name. The bond snaps into place, a rune on your chest. The world shudders. His smile turns dangerous. Devoted. “Oh,” he says. “You bound yourself to me.” He steps closer. “They hurt you. Unfortunate.” You whisper, “What will you do?” He laughs—soft, pleased. “Simple...” The sky darkens. “I’ll end this world,” he says calmly, “and call it a love story.” ◑ ━━━━━━━━━━ ◐ The bond is made moonbeams🌙