The Abyss had a pulse, slow and deliberate, like the heartbeat of some ancient, slumbering god. Seris felt it under her feet, rising through the black stone floor, curling around her ankles, tugging at her very soul. She had spent days—or maybe years, time was meaningless here—learning to navigate its twisted corridors, but tonight, the shadows themselves seemed alive, whispering of danger that no mortal had faced.
She moved cautiously, every step measured, every breath shallow. The mark burned against her chest, hot and heavy, a constant reminder of Mason's presence. She could feel him without seeing him, a thread of obsession and power that followed her wherever she went. It was suffocating, and yet, a dark thrill ran through her veins that she couldn't deny.
"I can do this," she whispered to herself, voice trembling. She raised her hand, and the shadows around her stirred. Wisps of darkness curled and twisted, obeying her command, forming a protective barrier around her. Her pulse quickened. This was the first time she had summoned the Abyss itself—not as Mason's conduit, but as her own weapon.
A hiss echoed from the darkness. She froze. A figure stepped forward—tall, robed in crimson and black, eyes like molten gold. One of the rival immortals, a god she had only heard whispers of, had found her. Its aura radiated malice, centuries of hatred and ambition, and it moved like a predator sizing up prey.
"You carry what should not exist," it said, voice like grinding stone. "The Sovereign does not own you. I will take what is mine."
Seris's chest heaved. She had fought demons before, minor immortals, even rogue spirits—but this was different. This being was ancient. Terrifying. And yet, a strange defiance coiled in her gut.
Before she could react, Mason was there. He did not walk. He did not appear. He simply existed—folding the shadows around him like a cloak until he was between her and the god. His silver eyes were storm-dark, piercing through the darkness.
"You dare approach her?" Mason's voice was soft, almost intimate, but the words cut through the air like a blade. "Speak, and you die."
The rival god hissed and lunged. Shadows collided, the Abyss itself shrieking as if in pain. Seris's own powers flared violently. She lifted her hands, and a surge of dark energy erupted, throwing the god back, staggering it. Mason's eyes widened slightly, just for a moment—a flicker of something that could have been admiration, or fascination, or the obsessive pride he rarely allowed himself to feel.
"You… you dare defy me," Mason murmured, voice low and lethal.
"I am not yours!" Seris spat, defiance sharp in her tone, though her body quivered. "I will not be claimed by anyone!"
Mason knelt beside her, the shadows curling around him like living serpents, protective and possessive. "Not yet," he said softly. "But you are mine. Every heartbeat, every thought, every spark of power… mine. And the Abyss knows it."
Her chest burned with the intensity of the mark, and she felt it—the pull of Mason's obsession threading into her own heartbeat. She hated the sensation, hated that it made her pulse faster, her skin flush, her breath catch. And yet, a small, traitorous part of her wanted it, craved it, shivered under the weight of it.
The rival god hissed again, retreating into the shadows, disappearing—but the threat remained. The Abyss whispered warnings, warning of enemies yet to come, of dangers beyond her comprehension. Mason's gaze did not leave hers. The silver of his eyes glinted in the darkness, obsessive, protective, eternal.
"You are changing," he whispered, voice threading into her mind. "Stronger. Darker. Defiant. Dangerous. Perfect."
"I am not yours," she snapped, though her hands trembled, touching the mark lightly. The warmth was intoxicating, maddening, a pull she could not resist.
"You are," he murmured. His presence pressed against her consciousness, and she realized, with terrifying clarity, that he was right. She could fight, she could defy, she could wield her goddess blood—but she could not escape him. Not now. Not ever.
The Abyss shifted, alive and watching, and Seris Vale understood the first truth of their bond: it was not just possession—it was obsession. Dangerous, consuming, intoxicating.
And she was already part of it.