The Abyss was alive tonight, quivering as if aware of the danger, the tension, the bond that stretched between Seris and Mason like a taut wire. Every shadow seemed to lean toward them, whispering in tongues older than time itself, and Seris felt the weight of it pressing against her chest. The mark burned hotter than ever, pulsing with Mason's obsession and her own restless power.
She tried to steady herself, inhaling sharply, feeling the darkness curl around her fingers. Each pulse of the mark made her skin tingle with a mixture of fear and something darker—an intoxicating thrill she could not deny. Her breaths came fast, shallow. The Abyss itself seemed to whisper warnings, yet she pressed forward, unwilling to falter, unwilling to show weakness.
"Stop," Mason's voice came, silk and steel threading directly into her mind. She froze, knowing he was not merely speaking—he was present, every inch of him folded into the shadows around her, pressing, claiming, tethering.
"I'm not stopping!" she snapped, even as her knees shook. Her fingers extended, summoning shards of shadow from the walls. They formed jagged spears, spinning and sharp, ready to strike.
"Good," he murmured, appearing from the darkness behind her. The air around him seemed to pulse with his silver-eyed intensity, heavy, suffocating, intoxicating. "You resist. You fight. And that defiance…" His voice softened, edged with obsession. "…makes you irresistible."
Seris pressed her lips together to keep from gasping. She hated that his words made her pulse spike, that the warmth of the mark burned against her chest with a pleasure she did not want to feel. She hated it, and yet a small, traitorous part of her craved it.
The Abyss shuddered suddenly. Shadows shifted, twisting unnaturally. She realized what it was—a new presence approaching. Not a demon, not a god… but something else entirely. A whisper of a god, one that had been dormant for centuries, drawn by the pulse of her awakening power.
Mason's gaze hardened. "Stay behind me," he commanded, his tone not optional. She flinched but obeyed instinctively. Even now, even while hating the tether of his obsession, she knew she could not face this alone.
The figure emerged, cloaked in shifting darkness, eyes like molten gold and fire. Its aura was ancient, commanding, and it looked at Seris with a mixture of hunger and curiosity.
"You carry forbidden blood," it said. "The Abyss whispers your power. It should belong to me."
Seris stepped forward, trembling but determined. Shadows from the walls obeyed her will, forming jagged barriers and swirling vortexes around her. For the first time, she realized just how much she could command—not through Mason, but through herself.
The figure sneered. "A mortal child thinks she can defy the gods?"
"Not a mortal," Seris said, voice steadier than she felt. "And I am not alone."
Mason's silver eyes narrowed. Shadows coiled around his form like living serpents. He stepped closer, brushing barely against her shoulder. The warmth of him, the pull of the mark, pressed against her senses with the force of a storm. "She is mine," he said softly, intimate, obsessive. "Every heartbeat, every spark of power… mine."
The figure hissed and lunged, and the Abyss erupted into violence. Seris unleashed her power, shadows lashing, curling, striking. Mason's presence pressed close, guiding, protecting, tethering her with a force that was equal parts obsession and devotion.
When the battle ended, she collapsed to the floor, trembling from exertion and fear. Mason knelt beside her, his gaze softening just enough to make her shiver. "You are mine," he whispered. "And yet… you are stronger than I imagined. Every moment you resist, every spark of defiance… I cannot stop needing you."
She looked up at him, chest heaving. The Abyss was still alive around them, the shadows whispering, waiting. Her mark burned violently, a tether of obsession that she could neither escape nor reject.
"I hate you," she breathed, though part of her knew it was a lie.
"And I adore it," Mason murmured, leaning just close enough that she felt the warmth radiating off him, intoxicating, impossible, dangerous.
For the first time, Seris realized something terrifying: Mason's obsession was not just a weight—it was a tether. A force that bound her to him in ways she could neither resist nor fully understand. And the Abyss itself seemed to acknowledge it, the shadows bending around them as if in reverence, or warning.
She was caught between fear, power, and desire. Between defiance and surrender. And she understood, with a shiver that ran straight through her, that nothing—no rival god, no demon, no Abyss—would ever pull her from him.
She belonged to Mason.
And, terrifyingly, she might already want it.