Stay With Me Afomia

Chapter 1

In the heart of a dense forest, where towering trees whispered secrets to the wind and shadows stretched endlessly, a lone figure walked with an air of indifference. Felix, a Grim Reaper and trusted subordinate of Zein, moved silently through the thick undergrowth. The eerie silence of the woods didn't bother him—he had seen far worse in his line of work.

But something that night felt different.

As he stepped over a cluster of gnarled roots, his sharp eyes caught sight of something unusual lying among the fallen leaves. A doll—old, tattered, and unnervingly intact despite its apparent age. There was something about it, something sinister, an aura that made the air around it feel heavier. It wasn't just an ordinary antique.

Felix crouched and picked it up. The moment his fingers touched its surface, a faint pulse of energy surged through him. He knew immediately—this doll wasn't just a relic. There was a soul bound within it.

Uneasy, he turned the doll over in his hands, inspecting the delicate yet eerie craftsmanship. He could almost hear a whisper—a presence, desperate and restless, clawing to be freed. Without hesitation, he decided to bring it back to the mansion.

The Awakening

Felix entered the grand mansion, the flames of the chandelier casting flickering shadows on the walls.

"Boss," he called as he stepped into the lavish lounge. Zein, the heir to Hell's throne, was seated lazily on a luxurious velvet chair, his blue eyes flickering with a mix of boredom and intrigue. "I found something in the woods. A doll. There's a soul trapped inside it."

Zein barely moved, but Felix could tell he was interested. "Put it on the sofa," he said, his tone calm but edged with curiosity. "Thank you, Felix. You may leave."

Felix hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright, boss. Call me if you need anything else."

A small smirk appeared on Zein's lips. "Oh, I will. Don't worry."

With that, Felix exited the room, leaving Zein alone with the peculiar doll.

For a moment, Zein simply stared at it, his gaze dark and unreadable. He stood, feigning disinterest, and walked toward the door as if to leave. But instead, he stopped just before stepping out, choosing instead to linger in the shadows, watching.

Minutes passed. Then, a shift.

Thin tendrils of black smoke curled from the doll's surface, twisting and spiraling into the air. Slowly, the mist took shape—a humanoid form, ethereal and wavering like a flame struggling against the wind.

And then she appeared.

A young woman, her ghostly form solidifying, her eyes burning with a silent fury. She looked around in confusion before her gaze landed on Zein.

"How did I get out?" Her voice was sharp, laced with a mixture of shock and wariness. "Who freed me?"

Zein stepped forward, his smirk widening. "That would be me."

Before she could react, he lifted his hand, and with a mere flick of his fingers, an invisible force wrapped around her, suspending her midair. She gasped, struggling against the unseen grip.

"Why... why can't I move?" she snarled, glaring at him. "W-why are you doing this? who even are you?!.. let me go!"

Zein tilted his head, his smirk never fading. "Hmmm... I'm Zein, the Grim Reaper. And maybe, just maybe, I'm here to collect your soul."

Her breath hitched. "No! I can't die now! I still have unfinished business! I need revenge!"

Zein raised an eyebrow at her outburst, curiosity flickering in his golden eyes. "Revenge?" He let the word roll off his tongue as if tasting it. Then, he chuckled. "Now, that sounds interesting."

He released his hold on her, letting her fall onto the plush carpet. She pushed herself up, eyes filled with defiance.

"So, tell me," Zein leaned back, crossing his arms. "What's your grand plan?"

She took a deep breath. "I want to kill the ones who murdered me. With my own hands."

Zein observed her for a long moment before grinning. "Sounds like fun. So, do we have a deal?"

Afomia hesitated. She knew better than to trust a Grim Reaper, let alone one as powerful as him. But she had no choice. If he could help her get revenge, then it was worth the risk.

"Deal," she said firmly.

Before she could process what was happening, Zein suddenly leaned in and kissed her.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she shoved him away. "What the hell was that for?!"

Zein laughed, his smirk turning playful. "No reason. I just felt like it."

Afomia clenched her fists. "You're insufferable!"

He shrugged. "Relax, sweetheart. Now, when do we start hunting your murderers?"

She scowled at the pet name. "Don't call me that."

"Noted, sweetheart."

She groaned in frustration.

Crossing Worlds

Zein stretched his arms. "We're not in the human world yet, by the way. You're in the realm of demons and Grim Reapers."

Afomia glanced around. Now that he mentioned it, she noticed how unnaturally cold the air was, how the shadows seemed alive, shifting and twisting at the edges of her vision. She shuddered but said nothing.

"Go back into the doll," Zein ordered.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why should I?"

"Because it's the only way I can bring you to the human world without attracting unwanted attention." His voice was calm, but there was an underlying authority to it.

Afomia hesitated before letting out a frustrated sigh. "Fine."

With a soft shimmer, her form dissipated into mist, sinking back into the doll. Zein picked it up, then with a flick of his wrist, summoned a swirling portal.

With a single step, he crossed over.

The Return

Afomia felt her surroundings shift violently. When the magic settled, she emerged from the doll, dizzy and disoriented.

"You could've at least warned me that portal travel feels like being thrown into a blender!" she snapped.

Zein chuckled. "Oops. My bad, sweetheart."

She shot him a glare. "Stop calling me that!"

Ignoring her, Zein took her to a cemetery. He walked past countless gravestones until he reached one half-buried under dead leaves.

Afomia froze.

It was her grave.

"B-But why is my body still here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zein glanced at her, his usual smirk replaced by something more unreadable. "Because you were buried in a cursed site. Time doesn't touch this land."

Afomia stared at the coffin, her fingers trembling. After all these years... she was looking at herself.

"You need your body to get your revenge," Zein said, stepping closer. "And I know exactly how to bring you back."

He sliced his palm, letting a few drops of his blood fall onto her decayed corpse. Dark energy pulsed through the air.

Afomia gasped as her lifeless body stirred. And then—

She was whole again.

She sat up, staring at her own hands, her heart pounding in disbelief. She was alive.

Zein leaned against a tombstone, watching her. "There's just one rule," he said smoothly. "You can't leave your body for more than five minutes unless I allow it."

She frowned. "Why?"

"To make sure you keep your end of the deal."

She scowled. "Just make sure you keep yours."

Zein grinned and, without warning, kissed her again.

She pushed him away, her face red with anger. "Stop doing that!"

"Just making sure you're serious," he teased.

From the shadows, Felix watched with a smirk. "Boss, you sure you're not in love with her?"

Zein scoffed. "I don't do love, Felix. She's just... entertaining."

But as he looked at Afomia, something deep inside him whispered otherwise.

The crisp night air wrapped around them as Afomia and Zein strolled through the quiet streets of the human world. The city was alive—bright neon lights flickered, laughter echoed from distant bars, and the steady hum of passing cars filled the air. To Afomia, it was overwhelming. After years of being trapped inside a cursed doll, she had almost forgotten the noise, the scent, the sheer aliveness of the mortal realm. Everything felt foreign yet achingly familiar at the same time.

But her mind wasn't focused on the beauty of the city. No, all she could think about was revenge.

She clenched her fists, her sharp gaze scanning every shadowy alleyway, every unfamiliar face, searching for them—the people who betrayed and killed her. They had to be close. They had to still be alive.

Beside her, Zein walked leisurely, hands tucked into the pockets of his long coat, a smirk tugging at his lips. But behind his playful demeanor, his golden eyes remained watchful. He knew exactly what she was thinking. He could feel it.

"Looking for something, sweetheart?" he asked, his tone light, teasing—but with an edge of warning.

She stopped, turning to glare at him. "You know damn well what I'm looking for."

Zein sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "And here I thought we were just enjoying a peaceful stroll together."

Afomia scoffed, folding her arms. "I didn't agree to this 'walk' just to sightsee. I agreed because I thought I'd be able to—"

"Kill someone?" Zein cut in smoothly, raising a brow. "Not happening."

Her jaw tightened. "Are you serious right now? You promised me revenge, Zein. That was the deal."

His smirk faded. He regarded her carefully before speaking, his voice measured. "And I intend to keep my promise. But not like this."

Afomia felt a flicker of frustration. "What the hell does that mean?"

Zein tilted his head, eyes gleaming under the streetlights. "It means I won't let you kill recklessly. If you stain your hands with too much sin, you'll become nothing more than a corrupt soul. And that, sweetheart, is something I cannot allow."

She blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. "You—the heir to Hell—care about something like that?"

Zein chuckled, raking a hand through his silver hair. "Believe it or not, I do have rules. And I have zero interest in reaping the soul of a murderer."

Afomia clenched her fists, her entire body tense with suppressed rage. "That's not fair. I deserve justice."

"You deserve justice, not damnation," Zein corrected, his voice unexpectedly serious. "There's a difference."

She turned away, inhaling sharply. The fury in her chest burned hotter. She wanted to make them pay. She needed to. But Zein was standing in her way.

She spun back to face him, eyes blazing. "So what now? What am I supposed to do? Forgive them?" she spat, disgust thick in her voice.

Zein sighed, stepping closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "No, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice softer this time. "But I'll make sure you get your revenge without damning yourself in the process."

Afomia stared at him, heart pounding. She wasn't sure what was more frustrating—the fact that he was stopping her, or the fact that he actually seemed to care.

They continued walking in silence. The city stretched before them, glowing under the artificial lights. The world moved on, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Afomia. Zein kept a steady pace beside her, pretending not to notice the dark energy radiating from her form. But he felt it. Of course, he felt it.

Then, without warning, everything changed.

The air grew thick. Heavy. Suffocating.

Zein immediately slowed, his instincts sharpening. A pulse of darkness rolled off Afomia in waves, subtle at first, then growing more violent—dangerous. He turned his head slightly, watching her from the corner of his eye.

Afomia had stopped walking.

She stood motionless, her body rigid, her hands trembling at her sides. Her gaze was locked onto something—or someone—ahead of them. Zein followed her line of sight.

Three girls.

They walked together, laughing, their voices blending into the noise of the city. Carefree. Happy.

But the moment Afomia laid eyes on them, her entire aura shifted.

Zein's expression darkened. "Who are they?" he asked, though deep down, he already knew.

Afomia didn't look at him. Her breathing turned uneven, her fingers curling into her palms so tightly her nails dug into her skin. "They're the ones," she said, voice low, shaking with barely contained rage. "The ones who tortured me before."

Zein's gaze flickered back to the girls. Laughing. Unaware. Untouched by the horrors of their past crimes.

Afomia took a step forward.

Zein grabbed her wrist. "Don't."

She turned on him, eyes burning with fury. "Let me go."

"No."

The air between them crackled, thick with tension.

"They don't get to live happy lives after what they did to me," she hissed, her voice raw. "They deserve to suffer."

Zein's grip tightened. "I'm not saying they don't," he murmured, his tone firm but calm. "But if you kill them right now, you'll become something far worse than them."

Afomia's entire body trembled. "I don't care."

Zein sighed. "Liar."

She glared at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. "You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," Zein cut in. His blue eyes bore into hers, sharp, unwavering. "You think I don't know what revenge feels like? The way it eats you alive? The way it demands blood?"

Afomia swallowed hard. There was something in his voice—something dangerous.

His tone softened. "But if you let revenge control you, it will consume you. And I won't let that happen."

Afomia's hands shook.

The three girls continued walking, completely unaware of the danger that had been so close to them.

Afomia's breathing steadied. The violent energy surrounding her began to wane. Slowly, hesitantly, she took a step back.

Zein didn't let go of her wrist until he was sure she was in control again.

Then, with a knowing smirk, he whispered, "Come on, sweetheart. If we're going to make them suffer... let's do it right."