Aisha had avoided speaking for days, ignoring his presence in every class, in every hallway. But that afternoon, before they were supposed to work together, Rasen stepped in front of her, blocking her path with an unsettling calm.
—Do you always run away whenever I come near? —he asked, not accusingly, just stating a fact.
She didn't answer.
—We haven't exactly been best friends —he went on—, but I want you to tell me your name. I don't want to hear it from others. I want to hear it from you.
Aisha looked at him in silence. There was no mockery or threat on his face. Just a strange kind of waiting.
Finally, she sighed and slightly lowered her guard:
—If that's the only way you'll leave me alone… I'm Aisha.
Rasen nodded slightly, as if confirming something he had long suspected.
—Then… your name —Aisha, right?— probably comes from your mother. You must look like her.
The word "mother" struck her chest like a whip.
—I never knew her… —she whispered, lowering her gaze.
—Why do you care so much about what happens to me? —she added, almost suspicious, raising her eyes to him again.
Rasen didn't get the chance to reply.
—Murderer! —a voice cut in, sharp as shattered glass. Estrella stepped forward from the end of the hallway with a group of girls, each whisper sharpened into a knife—. Where's the body?! What did you do on the Red Night?!
The murmurs swelled. The crowd did nothing. Just watched.
A warm hand gripped hers, firmly.
—Let's go —Rasen whispered, pulling her toward the courtyard without asking.
—Let go of me! —Aisha snapped, struggling. The girls followed them with insults. No one stepped in.
Out in the courtyard, surrounded by inquisitive stares, Rasen raised his voice:
—Say what you need to say —to her face!
One of the girls stepped forward.
—We all know about you, Aisha. The boy who vanished… and turned up dead later. What did you do to him?
Rasen turned to Aisha, confused.
—Is it true…? —he whispered, but Aisha didn't answer. She just looked at him, full of shame and anger.
He tried to reach for her, but she pulled away.
From that day on, Rasen looked for her all over campus. In class, in the hallways—always one step behind. Until one afternoon, he saw her near the doors, a beanie pulled down over her hair.
The crowd swallowed her up, but he recognized her. By her walk. By her silence. By her shadow.
Cristal approached him with a mocking tone:
—You care about that girl? You know Aisha's dangerous, right? You could be the next one to disappear.
That phrase burned through him.
He searched again. And when he found her, he simply said:
—I don't care about your past or what they say about you. This isn't pity, Aisha. It's something else. And I'm not going to leave you alone.
Aisha pressed a handkerchief to her eyes before Rasen could see the tears, but he was already there: a figure woven from the fog of her memories, offering a hand that promised calm.
—What do you gain by staying… when everyone else runs? —she whispered, locking eyes with him like a challenge and a plea at once.
The click of heels sliced through the air.
—You'll pay for what you did! —Estrella stormed in, her hatred dripping from every word, her voice like venom—. Where is the body?!
Aisha fought the trembling in her fists. She wouldn't cry. Not again.
A warm hand wrapped around hers.
—Let's go —Rasen murmured, pulling her away.
When he turned toward Estrella, his gaze sent them retreating into the shadows.
—Disappear.
The girls fled. Aisha tried to pull her hand free, but Rasen held it a heartbeat longer than necessary.
—Aisha… wait.
He grabbed her arm. She tried to keep walking, but he stopped her with an uninvited embrace. Aisha collapsed against his chest, breathing—really breathing—for the first time in years, an air that didn't smell of ashes.
—I'm no saint, Aisha. I know. I pushed you. But I don't want you to push me away. I care about you… despite everything. I want your battles to be mine too. I missed you.
Aisha swallowed hard, and finally whispered:
—I didn't want you to get hurt because of me. You should stay away.
Rasen held her gaze, steady:
—I don't care about your past. I care about you. And I won't walk away. That's my choice.
That night, at the mall…
The ice cream melted between her fingers. The artificial sweetness clashed with the cold coiling in her stomach.
Rasen stopped when he heard something. It felt like a sudden pressure in his chest. He didn't know why, but his steps faltered. Aisha kept walking, closer to the display windows—too close to the jewelry store.
Then she saw him.
Behind the glass, a blond man was spinning a Victorian pocket watch.
The golden chain swung with a violet glow, like it was pulsing from some buried memory.
—Stefan… —Aisha murmured, her voice barely a breath.
Above them, the red moon—the same one from her nightmares—seemed to devour the world.
A crash. Shattering glass.
Aisha fell backward. The cold marble was mixed with the iron of her blood.
Among the rubble, the ticking of the watch marked the rhythm of her breath.
—Aisha! —Rasen roared, running toward her.
The blond man had vanished. Only the echo of his laughter remained, and the symbol "S.S.V." drawn in the air with violet smoke.
"Rasen stopped, his chest frozen. He hadn't seen it, but something inside him roared as if he had."
Part III: Secret
The hospital lamp's dim light outlined Aisha's form against the shadows; her breathing synced with the monitor's rhythmic beeps. Rasen watched each pulse as if counting down time. The antiseptic scent couldn't drown out the bergamot and iron that clung to him—a reminder that his world no longer belonged to the living.
"Don't leave me," Aisha whispered, digging her nails into the sheet. Not a plea—but a dare.
Rasen took her hand without asking. His rough fingers brushed her IV line, and for a moment the violet glow of the locket under his shirt lit the room.
In its faded photograph, a braided little girl played beneath an oak: Aisha herself, years before the Red Night erased everything.
"I'll take you far from here," he said, following her gaze to the window."Somewhere even the ghosts can't reach."
On the foggy glass, Rasen's reflection merged with Sanathiel's: two silhouettes, two beasts—one fate woven in violet scars. Aisha turned away, and he captured her wrist with the gentle control of one taming serpents.
"Why?" she asked, feeling his pulse align with the relic's glow."I'm not your cross to bear."
Rasen smiled—a restrained smile that promised storms.
"You are the bullet that will pierce my demons."
A thunderclap rattled the window. Aisha tried to pull away, but he traced his thumb over her purple‑stained scar beneath the bandage.
"Tell me his name," he demanded—as the locket burned against his chest."The one who carved this sin into your skin."
The monitor sped up. In the corridor, a nurse hummed Clair de Lune. Aisha squeezed her eyes closed— that same melody floated in the room the night Stefan appeared in her crib.
"It's… just a mirage," she lied, but Rasen smelled truth in her sweat.
Even if she denied it, her skin remembered Stefan's cold fingers—how he whispered her name like it was already his.
He leaned close until his lips brushed the scar on her neck, sealing their vow.
"Mirages burn with fire."
Aisha gasped. In her mind Sanathiel howled behind memory's bars; Stefan's violet‑glowing watch pulsed in time with Rasen's mark.
But it wasn't just a memory.
A chill raced down her spine as the room's air thickened, suffocating. The IV drip clicked. She felt invisible pressure on her chest—as if cold fingers traced her collarbone. He couldn't be here. Not now.
The shadow in the window warped, elongating into something neither human nor beast.
"He wants me dead!" she spat, voice laced with venom and terror.
Rasen tightened his grip on the locket until the chain cut into his throat.
"You will die," he whispered against her skin—"when I exhale my last breath. And I still have air to set worlds ablaze."
Outside, the storm tore loose metal from the building. A spark illuminated three circles etched into the window frame—brief as a nightmare's laugh.