Apocalyptic Passion

Azrail's mind raced.

A bond.

She had read about them before in the ancient texts buried deep in the library of forbidden knowledge. Supernatural connections that linked two beings together—permanently. A bond was unbreakable, irreversible, and absolute. A tether that not even death could sever in some cases.

But bonds were rare, created through rituals, pacts, or some shared ancient magic.

And humans? Humans couldn't form bonds with demons.

It was impossible.

Yet here she was—standing in front of the Demon King, her body reacting to him in ways she didn't understand, every nerve in her body pulling her toward him. Her chest tightened with a nauseating combination of fear and anger. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"This is a mistake," she said, forcing herself to breathe. Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. "There's no way this—this thing is real."

Asmodeus still hadn't moved. He stood a few paces away, his tall frame draped in shadows, his crimson gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made her skin prickle. His expression was unreadable, as if he, too, was trying to process what had just unfolded.

Finally, his lips curved—not into the familiar, mocking smirk she had come to expect, but into something sharper. Something darker.

"And yet, you feel it, don't you?"

Azrail's jaw clenched. "Shut up."

For the first time, the arrogance in his tone seemed muted, replaced by something more contemplative. He didn't respond immediately, just watched her, studying her every move.

Then he took a single step forward.

And Azrail felt it again.

The pull.

It wasn't just physical. It wasn't something she could shrug off like an unwanted touch. This was deeper, ancient, primal. It was as though some invisible thread had woven itself into the very fabric of her being, linking her to him.

She fought against it, planting her boots firmly on the stone floor, forcing herself not to move.

Her body screamed in protest.

"You're fighting it," Asmodeus observed.

Azrail shot him a glare. "Of course I'm fighting it."

His expression didn't change, but she noticed the slight flicker in his eyes, something dark and calculating. "Interesting."

Before she could snap at him, a sharp pain exploded in her chest.

It wasn't like the ache she'd felt earlier—it was sharper, more intense. It was as if something inside her was tearing itself apart, breaking down and rebuilding all at once.

Azrail stumbled, her hand flying to her ribs as her knees buckled beneath her.

"Azrail," Asmodeus said sharply.

She barely heard him. Her ears were ringing, her vision swimming as the pain radiated through her body. She tried to steady herself, tried to keep standing—but her legs gave out.

Asmodeus moved faster than she thought possible.

In an instant, he was there, his arms wrapping around her before she could hit the ground. His touch was firm, steady, unyielding.

The moment his hands made contact with her skin, it was like someone had lit a match inside her.

A surge of energy exploded through her veins, fiery and raw. Azrail gasped, her back arching involuntarily as the sensation overwhelmed her.

It wasn't just energy—it was something else. Something alive

The shadows in the room shifted, drawn toward them as if compelled by the same invisible force that bound her to him. The torches along the walls flickered violently, their flames dimming and flaring in rhythm with her racing heartbeat.

Asmodeus' eyes darkened, the crimson glow intensifying.

"Let go of me," Azrail hissed through gritted teeth, her voice strained.

His grip didn't loosen.

"If I do," he said calmly, "you will collapse."

She hated him for being right.

Her body was trembling, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as the energy within her burned hotter and hotter. It was as if her very soul was being rewritten, reshaped.

And the worst part

She could feel him.

Not just his presence, but his emotions. His energy. The sheer weight of his power pressing against hers like a storm threatening to consume her.

Azrail clenched her teeth, forcing herself to push through the overwhelming sensations.

"What… what is this?" she rasped.

Asmodeus' gaze didn't waver.

"This," he said slowly, "is not a normal bond."

Azrail's pulse spiked. Her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest.

"No shit," she snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear and anger.

His eyes flickered down to her arm, where dark veins were now pulsing beneath her skin.

It wasn't the same infection she had seen in the others—the blackened corruption that marked the souls of those who had been consumed by the rift.

No, this was something else.

Something older.

Something far more dangerous.

Asmodeus exhaled slowly, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

"This changes everything," he said quietly.

Azrail looked up at him, her vision blurry, her body still trembling

She hated him.

She hated that he was right.

Because no matter how much she tried to deny it—

She was bound to the Demon King.

And there was no way out.

For a moment, silence filled the chamber. The flickering torches cast long shadows on the walls, their light dancing across the jagged edges of the collapsed rift.

Azrail forced herself to breathe, the pain in her chest slowly ebbing into a dull ache.

She straightened, pulling herself out of Asmodeus' hold, though the pull between them remained as strong as ever.

"Don't touch me," she muttered, her voice laced with venom.

Asmodeus didn't respond. He simply watched her, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Azrail took a shaky step back, her fists clenched at her sides.

"This bond," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "how do I break it?"

Asmodeus raised a brow.

"You don't."

Her stomach twisted. "What do you mean, 'you don't'?

"Bonds are permanent," he said simply. "Once formed, they cannot be undone."

Azrail's nails dug into her palms, drawing blood. "There has to be a way."

Asmodeus tilted his head slightly, studying her.

"If there is," he said slowly, "it will come at a cost you may not be willing to pay."

Azrail's chest tightened.

She didn't trust him. Not for a second.

But the weight of his words, the finality in his tone, made her stomach churn.

"Why me?" she demanded. "Why would this happen to me?"

Asmodeus didn't answer immediately.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost contemplative.

"Perhaps the question you should be asking," he said, "is not why you were chosen—but what you are."

Azrail froze.

"What I am?" she echoed

Asmodeus' crimson eyes bore into hers.

"You survived the rift," he said. "You resisted the creature's pull. And now, you have formed a bond that should not exist."

He took a step closer, the pull between them growing stronger with every inch he closed.

"You are not just a human, Azrail."

His words sent a chill down her spine.

She wanted to deny it, to call him a liar—but deep down, she knew he wasn't wrong.

Something had always been different about her.

And now, it was impossible to ignore.

Azrail's hands trembled.

"I don't care what I am," she said, her voice sharp. "I want this bond gone."

Asmodeus smirked, but it wasn't his usual arrogant grin.

It was darker.

More dangerous.

"Be careful what you wish for," he said.

Azrail's heart pounded.

She didn't have a choice.

She had to find a way to break the bond.

Because if she didn't—

It would destroy her.

And maybe, just maybe—

It would destroy him too.