The Demon's Mate

3

The air had shifted since that night in the library. Though Jasper had managed to get a few nights of sleep afterward, the memory of the book stayed with him like a shadow clinging to the soles of his feet. He hadn’t seen the raven again, but something in him told him it was never too far. It was just waiting.

The days had gone oddly quiet. Exams were over, most of the students had already left for the break, and the dorms felt like an empty shell. Jasper was one of the few who stayed behind. He told himself it was for the peace and the extra time to catch up on art projects, but he knew deep down that something was keeping him here. It wasn’t just the book anymore. It was the way his body tensed when he walked past the library. It was the way he found his eyes darting to the corners of empty hallways, waiting for something to move.

On one of those quiet afternoons, the sky turned grey earlier than usual. Clouds stretched across the horizon, heavy and thick like soaked cotton. A gentle wind carried the scent of something earthy and cold. Jasper sat by the window of the common room with a half-drunk mug of tea, sketching nonsense into his journal. His pencil moved, but his eyes weren’t focused on the paper. Something inside him buzzed, low and restless.

That was when he felt it again—the same pull he felt that night in the library. A deep, silent nudge that started at the base of his spine and crept up to his skull. He looked up, and for no reason he could name, he felt the need to get up and walk. Not anywhere specific. Just walk.

Jasper grabbed a light jacket, slipped on his shoes, and stepped outside. The wind had picked up. Leaves skittered across the pavement like whispers, and the campus grounds looked even more abandoned than usual. As he crossed the empty courtyard, he noticed something in the distance. It wasn’t clear at first, just the shape of something dark and fluttering between the trees near the edge of the campus.

It moved again.

He stopped.

It wasn’t the raven this time. It was something larger, with a jerking, uneven movement. He couldn’t make out its shape completely, but he could see the pale glint of eyes. He should have turned around, should have gone back inside, but instead, his feet kept moving. Curiosity? Maybe. Or maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, it didn’t let him stop.

The figure disappeared into the line of trees. Jasper followed it without thinking. He entered the woods slowly, brushing aside the low-hanging branches. It was quieter in here. The kind of quiet that filled his ears and made his breathing sound too loud. The trees were packed tightly together, their roots curling over the path like knotted fingers.

He walked for what felt like minutes or maybe longer. It was hard to keep track of time. The deeper he went, the more the forest changed. The trees seemed older here, thicker and taller. Their bark was darker, rougher. Moss clung to everything, and strange white flowers bloomed near the base of the trunks.

Then he saw it.

Half-hidden between two trees, almost swallowed by ivy and shadows, was a stone archway. It wasn’t tall, and it wasn’t exactly obvious. Most people would have walked right past it. But Jasper stopped.

The stone was old, cracked in places. Carvings he couldn’t understand circled the edges of the arch. At the base of it was a path made of uneven stones leading downward. It was a crypt. A small one, built into the earth like it had been waiting there, tucked away for years. Maybe centuries.

Jasper didn’t know how he knew, but something told him this hadn’t always been here. Or at least, not in a way that people could find.

He hesitated for the first time. His hands were cold. His heart beat louder now, not from fear exactly, but from something else. Expectation. The creature—or whatever it was—was gone. No more fluttering. No more movement in the trees.

Just the crypt.

Slowly, he stepped closer. The ground felt soft beneath his shoes, damp from the morning rain. The air had a bite to it now. He ducked under the arch and descended the steps, one hand brushing against the stone wall for balance.

Inside, the space was small and circular. The ceiling was low and made of curved stones, and the light from the entrance barely reached past the doorway. The air was cold, heavy with the scent of wet earth and old things.

At the center of the room stood a pedestal. On top of it sat an object.

Jasper blinked.

It wasn’t a book. It wasn’t a statue. It looked… ordinary. Like a small metal charm, maybe. Or a trinket. But the moment his eyes landed on it, his chest tightened.

He stepped forward and reached for it. As his fingers brushed against the surface, he felt heat shoot through his hand. Not enough to burn, but enough to make him gasp. He pulled his hand back and stared.

The charm—or whatever it was—began to glow faintly. A soft, red shimmer that pulsed like a heartbeat. Jasper stood frozen, watching it. Then, without warning, the glow faded, and the object cracked down the middle.

But instead of breaking apart, it opened.

Inside was something even stranger. A thin, silver thread, coiled tightly. Not string, not wire. It didn’t even look like it belonged to this world. Jasper didn’t touch it this time. He just stared.

Suddenly, the temperature dropped even more. Cold air rushed past his face, and he heard something above—movement. He turned around sharply.

The entrance was gone.

The archway he had come through was no longer there. Just solid stone. The trees. The forest. All of it—gone.

His breath caught in his throat.

Then he heard it again.

A whisper.

Not from outside, but from within the walls. Something ancient. Something waiting.

His heart pounded as he stumbled back toward the pedestal. The object had sealed again. No light. No movement. Just silence.

Then, slowly, the stone wall behind the pedestal began to crack.

A line formed down its center, glowing faintly, almost like veins. The crypt rumbled softly beneath his feet. And then—just as suddenly as it had started—it stopped.

The wall didn’t open.

Nothing stepped through.

But Jasper knew this was not the end. It was the beginning. Whatever he had found here, whatever he had touched, had opened something. Not just in the crypt. Not just in the ground.

In him.

He picked up the object and held it tightly, not sure why. It didn’t burn this time. It felt warm. Like it belonged in his hand.

The wall behind him shimmered again. And just like that, the archway reappeared.

The forest was back. The wind returned.

Jasper stood there for a long moment before slowly climbing back up the steps. He didn’t run. He didn’t speak.

He just walked.

The woods behind him felt heavier. Alive.

And in his pocket, the object pulsed once. Just once.

Then went still.