"Get up. Now."
The voice didn't come from the air. It vibrated inside her skull, cold and demanding. Ella opened her eyes to find a boot pressing firmly into the small of her back, pinning her against the damp stone of the manor's courtyard. The smell of ozone and rotting lilies filled her nose.
"Move, or I'll leave you for the cleaners," Cain sneered. He wasn't visible—not fully. He was a shimmering, jagged shadow clinging to her skin, a parasite with a god complex.
Ella gasped, her lungs burning as if she'd swallowed glass. She shoved herself up, her muscles screaming. The two marks on her back—the jagged pact seals—were searing, pulsing in time with a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
"Where... where are we?" she rasped, coughing up a glob of dark blood.
"Your childhood playground," Cain’s voice echoed, dripping with boredom. "And you’re currently trespassing on your own funeral grounds. How poetic. I almost feel bad for you. Almost."
Ella looked up. The great iron gates of the Sterling Estate loomed over her, draped in black silk. Banners of mourning fluttered in the wind. It was a goddamn wake. Her wake.
"I'm not dead," she whispered, a feral smile twitching on her lips.
"Not yet," Cain countered. He suddenly manifested, a flicker of midnight black and silver eyes, leaning close. His breath was like a winter storm against her ear, his chest nearly brushing her shoulder. The proximity was suffocating. "But you are leaking energy like a cracked vase. If you don't feed me in the next ten minutes, we both dissolve. Your choice: be a ghost or be my battery."
Ella shoved him away, though it was like pushing a wall of smoke. "I don't take orders from things that live in shadows."
"Wrong answer," Cain murmured. He gripped her wrist, his fingers cold as ice, squeezing just hard enough to make her wince. He pulled her flush against him, the fabric of his dark robes scratching her skin. "You think you're in charge because you gave me a ride out of the Abyss? Cute. You're the door, Ella. I'm the one who knows how to lock it."
He leaned in, his eyes scanning her face with a predatory hunger. "Now, walk. Your ex-fiancé is inside celebrating your demise with champagne. I can smell the smugness from here. It's disgusting."
Ella’s eyes flared. Lucas. The man who had signed the order to drop her into the Void. The man who had probably already picked out a new bride.
"I'm going to kill him," she said, her voice steadying.
"With what?" Cain laughed, a low, melodic sound that felt like a threat. "You can't even stand straight. Use the pact. Give me a slice of your life force, and I'll give you enough power to put a hole through his chest. Deal?"
"What's the price this time?"
"Another six months of your miserable life," Cain whispered, his lips almost touching her earlobe. "A small price for the look on his face when you walk through that door."
Ella didn't hesitate. "Do it."
She felt it instantly—a violent rip in her chest, as if a hook had snagged her soul and yanked. Her knees buckled, and she slumped against Cain. He caught her, his arm wrapping around her waist with a sudden, possessive strength. He didn't let go. He held her there for a second too long, his gaze lingering on the pulse point of her neck.
"Greedy little thing," he murmured. "Most humans beg for their lives. You're just auctioning yours off for revenge."
"Shut up," she hissed, though she leaned into him, her body craving the strange, cold stability he provided.
They moved through the gardens, staying in the long, distorted shadows of the hedges. Every few steps, Ella felt the world tilt. The power Cain fed back into her was intoxicating, like liquid fire rushing through her veins, but it left her shaking.
As they approached the main ballroom, the music drifted out—a slow, mournful dirge that sounded like a joke. Through the glass doors, she saw him. Lucas. He looked exactly the same: polished, perfect, and utterly fake. He was holding a glass of wine, leaning in to whisper something to a woman in a shimmering gold dress.
Ella’s fingers curled into claws.
"Don't rush in like a wounded animal," Cain warned, his voice vibrating in her mind. "Wait for the moment. Let the Light Guards pass. If they catch you now, you're just a corpse with a grudge."
"I can't wait," she spat.
"You will," Cain replied, and suddenly his shadow surged, wrapping around her ankles like shackles, pinning her to the spot. "Patience is a virtue, Ella. Something you clearly lacked in your first life."
"Let me go!" she whispered-screamed, struggling against the dark bindings.
"Shh," Cain breathed, his form shimmering behind her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. The touch sent a jolt of electricity down her spine. "Look. Here comes your welcoming committee."
Two Light Guards marched past, their armor glowing with a soft, holy radiance that made Ella’s skin itch. They were scanning the perimeter with crystals that pulsed in rhythmic intervals.
"If those crystals hit you, they'll see the Abyss mark," Cain explained. "And then we stop playing hide-and-seek and start playing 'how fast can you be executed'."
Ella held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. She watched the guards' boots crunch on the gravel, the rhythmic *clink-clink* of their gear echoing in the silence.
As the last guard turned the corner, Ella lunged.
She didn't go for the door. She went for the balcony, scaling the trellis with a burst of Cain's borrowed strength. She vaulted over the railing, landing silently on the velvet carpet of the ballroom.
She stayed low, moving behind a massive floral arrangement of white lilies. The irony wasn't lost on her.
"Look at him," Cain whispered, his presence a heavy weight at her back. "He's actually smiling. I think he's forgotten you even existed."
Ella peered around the leaves. Lucas was laughing now, his hand resting on the gold-dressed woman's waist. "She was always too unstable," Lucas was saying, his voice carrying across the room. "A tragedy, really, but the family empire needed a clean slate."
Ella felt the fire in her veins boil. She stepped out from behind the lilies, her tattered dress trailing like a funeral shroud, her eyes glowing with a faint, abyssal purple light.
"A clean slate, Lucas?" she asked, her voice cutting through the music like a knife.
The room went dead silent. The music stopped mid-note.
Lucas froze. He turned slowly, his glass of wine slipping from his fingers and shattering on the marble floor. The red liquid splashed like blood.
"Ella?" he stammered, his face draining of all color. "That's... that's impossible. You were sacrificed. I saw the pit."
"The pit was a bit chilly," Ella said, taking a slow, predatory step forward. "But the company was great."
Cain chuckled in her ear, a sound of pure malice. "Now, Ella. Now we play."
But before she could reach him, a sharp whistle pierced the air.
"Intruder!"
From the ceiling, a Light Guard dropped like a stone, his blade already humming with holy energy. He didn't even look at her face—he saw the dark aura clinging to her and swung with lethal intent.
Ella dove to the side, the blade whistling inches from her throat. She rolled, the momentum throwing her toward the edge of the dance floor.
"Get her!" Lucas screamed, his shock instantly replaced by terror. "She's possessed! Kill her again!"
Ella scrambled to her feet, but the Guard was already there, his boot slamming into her stomach. She flew backward, hitting a banquet table with a crash of china and silver.
As she struggled to breathe, the Guard raised his sword for the final blow. The blade glowed with a blinding, white light, illuminating the horror on her face and the dark, jagged mark on her neck.
The Guard paused, his eyes widening as he recognized the features beneath the grime.
"Wait..." the Guard gasped, his blade trembling mid-swing. "It's Ella! She's alive!"