Zaria's POV
It had been two full days since that awkward meeting with Baal's friend at the mall.
Two days since his one-word reply — Fine — when I'd asked if I could come over.
Two days of… nothing.
No calls. No texts.
And it was driving me insane.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I dialed his number, my finger tapping impatiently on the arm of my chair while Viola, sprawled on my bed, scrolled through her phone.
He picked up after the second ring, his voice low and calm as always.
"Zaria."
"Why the silence?" I blurted before I could stop myself. "You told me fine, and then nothing for two days. Did I do something?"
There was a pause, and for a moment I thought the line had gone dead.
Then, slowly:
"No. You didn't."
"Okay…" I hesitated, then decided to push further. "Can I come over today? Evening? Viola's coming with me."
Another pause. Then, simply:
"Yes. My driver will pick you up."
He hung up before I could even say goodbye.
⸻
The drive was longer than I expected.
Much longer.
Baal's driver, a tall, silent man in black gloves, didn't speak a word the entire time. The city gave way to quiet roads. Quiet roads turned into overgrown paths. By the time we reached the turn that led to his house, I couldn't even see streetlights anymore.
"Where does he live?" Viola whispered, leaning closer to the window as we passed a row of skeletal trees swaying in the wind.
"In the middle of nowhere, apparently," I muttered, my chest tightening with unease.
And then I saw it.
The house — no, the castle — loomed ahead like it had been pulled straight from another century.
Tall, weather-darkened stone walls. Narrow windows glowing faintly from within. The air was colder here, and for a second I swore I could smell something faintly metallic.
When the gates opened, the first thing I noticed wasn't the size of the place.
It was the fire.
Right in the middle of the wide compound, a massive fire pit blazed — its flames sharp and alive, as if they'd been burning for years without ever going out. The air shimmered around it, and yet the ground beneath looked untouched, no ash, no smoke.
Viola slowed to a stop beside me, her eyes wide. "That's… creepy. Who keeps a fire going like that?"
I had no answer.
⸻
Inside, the house was just as strange.
It had the grandeur of royalty — high arched ceilings, chandeliers dripping crystal, velvet curtains that seemed almost too heavy for the walls to hold — yet it felt… wrong. Like something ancient had been preserved here, untouched by time, untouched by the outside world.
Then my eyes caught it.
A massive, dust-darkened painting hung on the wall opposite the entrance. It was framed in gold, but the gold looked aged, almost scorched. Painted in haunting brushstrokes was a shadowy chasm swallowing faceless figures whole.
Across the bottom, in sharp crimson letters, were the words:
"Abyss await ye who enters here."
I froze, my mouth going dry.
Viola glanced at it too and whispered under her breath, "That's… not welcoming."
Before I could comment, a voice pulled me back.
Lateef was already in the living room, seated casually on a velvet chair with a glass of deep red wine in hand. He smiled when he saw us, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Zaria," he said smoothly, his gaze flicking to Viola. "And a friend. Brave of you both to come."
"Brave?" Viola raised a brow.
Lateef chuckled, sipping his wine. "Not many walk into a man's home without truly knowing him. It's a… gamble."
Viola shot me a look, but I pretended not to notice.
⸻
Dinner was served on a long table that could easily seat twenty, though it was just the four of us — Baal, Lateef, Viola, and me. The food was exquisite, though the quietness in the air made it taste different, heavier somehow.
"So, how long have you two known each other?" Viola asked suddenly, looking between Baal and Lateef.
Lateef smirked. "Long enough to see sides of him you never will."
I frowned, unsure if that was a warning or a joke. "What does that mean?"
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking on mine. "Some doors," he said softly, "should never be opened. Even if you have the key."
A shiver ran down my spine.
Baal's gaze cut to Lateef — sharp, a silent command. Lateef leaned back, still smiling like he'd said nothing strange at all.
⸻
We weren't allowed beyond the first floor.
Not that Baal said it outright, but every time Viola wandered toward the staircase, Baal's eyes followed her until she turned back. There was something about the way those upper floors loomed above us, dark and shadowed, that made me feel like even trying would be a mistake.
The night stretched on with quiet conversation and the occasional cryptic remark from Lateef. I couldn't decide if he was teasing me… or warning me.
And all the while, in the corner of my eye, through the window, that fire in the courtyard burned and burned — steady, unchanging, almost… watching.
After dinner, the air in the vast room felt even heavier. The chandelier above threw a golden glow, but somehow it only deepened the shadows.
Lateef stood, stretching lazily, his glass of wine now empty. "I'll get another drink," he said casually, but his gaze drifted to Viola, lingering for a moment too long. "Care to join me, Miss Viola?"
Viola glanced at me, then shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
The two of them crossed the room to the bar tucked into the corner, where rows of crystal bottles gleamed in the dim light. Lateef leaned against the counter with the easy confidence of someone who owned every room he stepped into, his voice low but just loud enough for me to catch snippets — strange questions about where Viola grew up, if she believed in fate, if she'd ever felt watched in her sleep.
I forced myself to look away.
Baal was still at the table, his dark eyes following every movement, but when I rose and made my way toward the velvet couches where from there you could see the fireplace, he joined me without a word.
For a while, we sat in silence, the crackling of the grand hearth the only sound between us. My eyes wandered to the massive window beyond, where the courtyard fire burned as steadily as it had when we arrived. The flames were unnaturally still — no wind could touch them, no smoke rose into the night.
I finally asked, "That fire outside… why keep it burning like that?"
He leaned back against the couch, his gaze shifting toward the window. There was something in his eyes — not nostalgia, exactly, but a shadow of it.
"It reminds me of home," he said simply.
I tilted my head. "Home?"
His lips curved faintly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "A place far from here."
The way he said it sent a ripple of unease down my spine. I wanted to ask more — what kind of place? Why the fire? — but something in his expression told me the questions wouldn't be answered. Not tonight.
Across the room, Viola laughed — too quickly, too loudly — at something Lateef had said. She didn't look uncomfortable exactly, but there was a stiffness in her shoulders that I knew well.
Baal's eyes flicked toward them, sharp for a moment before softening again. "We should be going," he said, and it wasn't a suggestion.
The ride back was silent at first. The driver, just as wordless as before, guided us through the endless dark roads until faint city lights appeared in the distance.
Viola broke the quiet first, letting out a sharp breath. "Okay, Zaria, that house? I don't care how fine Baal is — that place is creepy as hell."
I laughed softly, though part of me agreed. "It's just… old. And far away."
"Far away? Girl, it's in another dimension," she shot back. "Do you know how long that drive was? And that fire in the yard — tell me you saw that. It didn't move. It didn't burn down. It just… stayed there, like it was fake, but it wasn't fake. And those walls? And that weird painting with the 'Abyss await ye' thing? Who hangs that in their house?"
I smiled faintly but didn't answer. My mind was still back in that living room, with Baal's unreadable eyes and the strange weight in his words when he said home.
Viola crossed her arms, muttering under her breath. "And Lateef? He's… ugh, I don't even know. He talks like he's in a horror movie. Asking me about fate and dreams? Please. That man's creepy in HD."
The car finally pulled into my apartment complex. Baal hadn't said a single word the entire ride, but as the driver slowed to a stop, I glanced back. His gaze met mine — steady, unwavering — and for some reason, I felt like I'd just left somewhere I wasn't supposed to be.
Viola was already opening the door, muttering, "Next time, you're visiting him alone."
But even as I stepped out, the image of that burning fire stayed with me — the way it never shifted, never dimmed. And Baal's words echoed in my head.
It reminds me of home.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to know what that meant.
But whatever, I was already in love with Baal and I don't think there's a way out of it for me
I love him…