A HELLISH YEAR.

The time on Sera’s phone read 11:58 PM. She checked it again, then looked out the window at the empty parking lot. The street was still. No cars, no voices, nothing moving under the streetlights. Even the usual distant hum of the city seemed muted. She drew a slow breath. Maybe the quiet was a mercy. She was about to do something she might regret for the rest of her life. Sera turned from the window, locked the apartment door, and walked back into the darkened living room. Six black candles stood in a precise circle on the floor, exactly as the old journal had instructed. Their flames threw restless shadows across the walls. She sat in the center and set Mia’s medical file on her lap. She already knew every line, but she opened it anyway. Idiopathic organ failure. Unknown cause. No treatment available. The words still made her sick. The doctors had stopped meeting her eyes weeks ago. That was how she knew. Mia was twenty-two. Sera closed the file and pressed her hands to her face. “This is insane,” she whispered. Every instinct told her to close the journal and walk away. She had spent nearly an hour arguing with herself. Then the image of Mia in that hospital bed returned—thin voice, tired smile—and the argument ended. She could not watch her sister die. “Okay,” she said under her breath. “You can do this.” Her name was written in the middle of the page in her grandmother’s hand: SERA VOSS. She rose, retrieved the small knife she had cleaned three times that night, and returned to the circle. Her pulse hammered. For a moment she almost set the blade down. Then she thought of Mia and pressed the tip against her finger. A single drop of blood fell onto her name and spread slowly across the paper. Sera swallowed and began to say the words she had practiced until they felt perfect. Her voice started to be calm slowly. As she continued, the air thickened. When she spoke the final line, every candle went out at once. No draft. No open window. Nothing that could explain it. Her phone screen died. The light outside the window vanished. The temperature dropped until she could see her own breath. Something was in the room with her. She turned slowly. At first there was only darkness. Then a man stood on the far side of the circle—tall, black coat, dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. He did not move. Then she saw his eyes. Silver. Not gray. Not blue. Silver. “Sera Voss,” he said. His voice was deep and calm. Her body locked. “Who are you?” He took one measured step forward. “I am the one you called.” “I didn’t call anyone.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “You did.” She looked down at the journal, then back at him. “Are you… a demon?” “Yes.” She wanted to run. She couldn’t. She had called him, and she knew it. He stepped closer to the edge of the circle. “My name is Kael.” “What do you want?” “You called me here.” She couldn’t finish the sentence. He already knew. “Your sister,” he said. “You want her to live.” Tears burned her eyes. “Can you save her?” “Yes.” The answer came too easily. “How?” “I can give you what you want. But you will have to give me something in return.” “What?” “One year of your life.” Silence stretched between them. “You mean I’ll die in one year?” “Yes.” Her hands shook. She thought of everything Mia had never gotten to do. She did not want to die. She also could not lose her sister. “Can I see her first?” Something flickered across his face—too brief to name. “One hour.” She held out her hand. He took it. His skin was cold, and the moment they touched she felt a strange pressure behind her ribs, as if something long dormant had opened its eyes. “There is no going back after this,” he said. “I know.” She meant it. She would do anything for Mia. What she did not know was that the deal she had just sealed was not the one her grandmother had written. Someone had altered the contract. Kael knew it the moment her blood touched the page. This was never supposed to happen. And now that she had called him, there was no turning back. But the worst part was something else entirely: the moment her blood touched the paper, Kael had not only felt the altered contract. He had also felt that Sera Voss was not the first to carry that name. And that whatever she had just released was already waiting for her.