The silence after that horrifying voice still clung to the room like a suffocating fog.
Mason was calling her name, shaking her shoulders, but Seraphina couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. That voice—Darian's voice—echoed in her head, but it wasn't him. Not truly.
She had felt it. That wasn't her Darian. That was something twisted wearing his skin.
She finally blinked, her lips trembling. "It wasn't him," she whispered, and then louder, "It wasn't him!"
Her scream tore through the room like glass shattering.
Ariella caught her as she collapsed again, this time into a sea of tears she hadn't allowed herself to cry before. Not in front of anyone. Not even Darian. But now it was all unraveling. The bond—the beautiful, sacred bond that tethered their hearts—had dimmed to a barely-there pulse inside her chest.
She clutched at it, but there was no warmth.
Just... ice.
---
Later that night, Ariella sat beside her, flipping through pages of old, cracked books. She looked up with worry etching deep lines into her young face.
"I found something," she said carefully. "The voice you heard. It's part of an ancient soul curse. Possession. The kind that traps the soul inside while the body is used like... like clothing."
Seraphina didn't flinch.
"Then where's Darian?"
Ariella hesitated. "Somewhere in between. The Hollow Prince... he's known for tormenting bonded souls. Keeping them awake inside their own body while feeding off their memories and their love."
Seraphina stared at her hands. They were shaking, and she hadn't even realized.
---
Somewhere else—darkness.
Darian stood in the garden.
Or what was left of it.
The roses had wilted into black ash, and the sky above him bled violet. A version of Seraphina danced just out of reach, laughter echoing like a windchime... but when he ran toward her, she shattered like glass.
Over and over.
He kept trying. Kept calling her name until his throat was raw.
And then—he heard it.
Her voice.
Just for a second. Just a whisper. "Darian…"
He fell to his knees, shaking. "Sera? SERAPHINA?! I'M HERE! I'M—!"
But the laughter returned. Deeper this time. Cruel. Cold.
"You're not going anywhere," the voice said. "Not until she gives me what I want."
---
Seraphina jolted upright in bed.
Sweat drenched her hairline, and her mark—the one that had glowed like fire when they were together—was now almost... black.
Mason opened the door. "He's back."
She blinked. "He?"
"Darian," Mason said grimly. "Or whatever is inside of him. He's at the palace gates, asking to see you."
Her breath caught.
Was it a trap?
Of course, it was.
But she had to see him. Even if it wasn't really him.
---
They met under the stars.
He looked... perfect. Like her Darian always did. The same messy hair. The same half-smile. The same eyes—
No.
Not the same eyes.
Those were empty. A lake with no reflection.
"Seraphina," he said, stepping forward. "I missed you."
Her stomach twisted. "You're not him."
He chuckled softly. "That's not very nice."
She didn't respond.
"I remember the garden," he said. "Where you told me you loved me. You wore that green dress with the silver threading. You were crying, and I said you didn't need to be strong anymore."
She froze.
Only Darian would know that.
But it still wasn't him.
Tears welled in her eyes. "He's still in there," she whispered. "And he's watching you wear his face."
The thing in Darian's body just smiled.
"Smart little soul."
---
That night, she didn't sleep.
She stood at the edge of her window, holding the spellbook Ariella had left her. One spell was marked in red—ink that looked too close to blood.
Soul Severance.
The spell that could destroy the body and force the soul out of hiding.
But the cost... if she was wrong, she could destroy everything that was left of him.
She pressed her forehead to the window, tears spilling quietly down her cheeks.
"I love you, Darian," she whispered, voice trembling. "But if the only way to save you... is to destroy the body they've stolen…"
She looked down at her hands.
"I'll do it."
The wind blew softly as the page of the spellbook turned on its own.
And in the darkness outside, the thing wearing Darian's face watched her window with a knowing smile.
Seraphina didn't move for a long time.
She just stood there, watching that shadow in Darian's skin smile up at her window. The same smile he'd given her the first time he kissed her on the palace balcony. But now... it felt like a mockery. Like the Hollow Prince was using her memories as weapons.
Behind her, the candle flickered violently.
"Don't lose yourself," Ariella said softly, having stepped in without Seraphina noticing. Her voice broke just slightly. "You're stronger than him. You have to be."
Seraphina wiped a tear off her cheek, but her hands were trembling. "He remembers everything, Ari. He remembers things only Darian would know."
Ariella nodded slowly. "Then he's still in there. Pieces of him... flickering behind the darkness. That means there's still hope."
Seraphina glanced down at the soul severance spell again.
"But at what cost?" she whispered.
There was a knock on the door.
Mason.
"You need to see this," he said grimly. "Now."
---
The main hall was glowing with moonlight when they entered.
And there, beneath the stained-glass window, he stood.
Darian. Or... the version of him they were being forced to call "Prince Darian" now.
He was laughing softly, charming the guards, moving through the palace like he still owned it. Like nothing had ever happened.
But then—
Then he turned toward Seraphina.
And for just a second, something flickered in his eyes. Like a drowning man screaming through glass. His lips twitched. His fingers curled. His whole body jerked ever so slightly, like he was trying to fight it.
"...Sera..."
The voice was so broken. So human. So raw.
Seraphina stepped forward.
But then he smiled again.
The Hollow Prince was back in control.
"You look lovely," he said. "Just like the night I marked you as mine."
Mason surged forward, but Seraphina held up her hand. She was frozen.
Because now she knew.
Darian was in there.
Fighting.
Trapped.
And losing.
---
That night, she went to the temple.
She fell to her knees beneath the ancient altar, her dress torn, her hair wild, eyes burning with fury and grief.
"I don't care what it costs," she whispered into the silence. "Not my crown. Not my blood. Not even my soul."
She opened the book again.
Her fingers hovered over the final line of the soul severance spell. Her lips began to move—
But just as the last word formed in her mouth—
The ground beneath the temple rumbled.
The candles extinguished.
A dark laugh filled the air, vibrating through her bones.
And a voice—his voice—spoke in a whisper behind her.
"You really thought I wouldn't feel that, my love?"
She whirled around—
But no one was there.
Just the echo of footsteps fading into the stone.
AUTHOR THOUGHTS
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Your chaotic author
TwistyPlot