Chapter 12
1153 Words
The wind howled against the high towers of the Devlin estate as if mourning something long dead. Morning had not yet broken, but the sky was bruised, gray, and waiting. In the heart of the library, surrounded by dust-laced tomes and the crackle of a dying fire, Calla sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor. The Devlin Grimoire rested open before her. Her fingers hovered above the pages as though afraid the words might burn.
They already had.
Callista Reyes. The Harbinger.
Her name didn’t just echo through this century. It was etched into the fabric of every lifetime she’d lived, every curse that had unraveled and snapped back like a whip through time.
The door creaked.
Ares entered—silent, disheveled, haunted. His coat was soaked with rain, though no storm had touched the skies. His eyes met hers, and for once, he looked like a man who had no answers left.
“I should’ve told you everything,” he said, voice hoarse.
“You think?” she replied coldly.
He flinched. Then stepped closer, his boots echoing across the stone.
“You saw a glimpse,” he murmured. “But you don’t understand how deep this goes.”
Calla stood, her spine straight as a blade. “Then make me understand.”
Ares’s jaw tightened. He walked to the fire, staring into the embers as though they could offer him courage.
“The Devlin line isn’t cursed because of something we did,” he began. “It’s cursed because of something we broke.”
Calla’s heart pounded.
“A promise,” Ares said. “Made centuries ago. Between a mortal and a god.”
He turned to face her, and for the first time, Calla saw fear in his eyes. Not for himself. For her.
“You were the god’s chosen. His obsession. But you defied him. You chose me.”
Calla staggered back, her mind reeling. “You’re telling me... this entire curse is because I broke a divine engagement?”
“Not just any engagement,” Ares said. “You were bound to Erevel—the god of endings. The moment you turned from him, he unraveled time. He cursed us to repeat this loop—until either you choose him... or die.”
The room spun.
She clutched the edge of the desk. “So that’s why every life ends the same.”
Ares nodded grimly. “You die. I live. And Cain watches.”
Calla blinked. “Why does Cain remember?”
“Because he made a deal,” Ares whispered. “He gave up his mortality to keep finding you.”
The fire flared suddenly—green, ghostly.
A shadow spilled out of it.
Cain stepped from the flames, as if summoned by the very mention of his name. His black coat smoked at the edges, his eyes darker than before.
“You told her,” Cain said flatly.
“She deserved the truth,” Ares replied.
Cain turned to Calla. “Do you believe it?”
She didn’t know what to say. Every part of her was screaming.
“This Erevel,” she said carefully. “He’s still watching?”
Cain nodded once. “And waiting.”
A sudden pressure filled the room, thick as fog, and all three of them stilled.
A clock in the hallway struck three.
Then four.
Then five—
Time cracked.
The library exploded in blinding white light. Calla screamed as gravity gave way, and she was yanked out of her body—out of the present—into something else.
She landed in darkness.
A black temple. Cold stone. Starlight bleeding through cracks in a domed ceiling. Before her stood a throne carved of bones and silence.
And on it—Erevel.
His face was obscured by shadows. His form was shifting. Beautiful. Terrible. Divine.
“Callista,” he said, and her soul trembled.
She tried to run—but her legs wouldn’t move.
“You’ve returned,” he said. “As you always do. And yet... you run from me still.”
“You killed me,” she spat.
“No,” Erevel said. “I loved you. You chose pain. You chose mortality. You chose him.”
Calla raised her chin. “And I’ll choose him again.”
Erevel stood.
The temple groaned. Stars collapsed.
“Then this time,” he said softly, “I will not give you the mercy of death. I will make you watch as I take everything from you.”
He raised his hand—
And Calla awoke screaming.
Back in the library. Ares holding her. Cain crouched beside them.
“What did you see?” Cain demanded.
She couldn’t speak. Her eyes filled with tears.
“He’s coming,” she whispered. “He’s going to burn this world.”
Ares closed his eyes. “Then we run.”
Cain stiffened. “Run where? He’s a god.”
“We run to the place it all began,” Ares said. “To Aramoor.”
Cain’s expression darkened. “That city no longer exists.”
“Yes,” Ares said. “But in her blood, it does.”
They left before dawn.
Packed little. Traveled light. The road to Aramoor was a place of myth, buried under time, hidden by wards only Calla’s blood could break.
As the car roared through the forest, Calla stared at the horizon. Everything inside her buzzed like lightning waiting to strike.
They reached the cliffs by dusk.
Ares stopped the car. “We walk from here.”
Through thorns. Through ancient stone paths. Until they reached it.
A city made of glass and memory.
Aramoor.
It shimmered between worlds—half in ruin, half pristine. Only Calla could see both. Only she could walk through the veil.
“Where are we?” she breathed.
“Where we first met,” Ares whispered. “Where you first chose me.”
She turned to him, a thousand questions burning.
But Cain interrupted. “Something’s wrong.”
A scream echoed through the ruins.
Not human.
They turned.
Dozens of pale figures stood at the city’s edge. Their eyes black. Their mouths stitched. Souls bound to Erevel’s will.
Revenants.
“We have to fight,” Calla said.
Cain drew his blades. Ares summoned fire.
Calla raised the Grimoire—and her voice.
“By blood remembered, by flame reborn, I unbind the curse of the Devlin Thorn.”
Light exploded from her chest.
The revenants screamed.
Time screamed.
And in that moment—Calla remembered everything.
The first time she loved Ares.
The first time she died.
The betrayal. The heartbreak. The vow.
And the choice she would make again.
Even if it meant defying a god.
As the battle raged, Calla stepped into the heart of Aramoor.
The temple stood before her again.
Erevel waited.
But this time—she would not bow.
This time—she would end it.
- Writer
