Revas laughed.
The sound was harsh and low. It made Mirabelle's bones shake.
"A deal?" Revas repeated, stepping closer. The immense chain dragging behind him carved a groove into the black stone floor. "You are a sacrifice, little thing. You are a meal delivered to a prisoner. Does the bread negotiate with the mouth that eats it?"
He moved faster than his size suggested. In a blur, his hand shot out. His fingers, cold and hard as marble, closed around Mirabelle's throat. He didn't squeeze yet, but the threat was clear. He lifted her easily until her toes hung above the ground.
Mirabelle clawed at his wrist, but it was like scratching stone. She gasped for air and stared into his crimson eyes. Up close, they were terrifying, swirling with malice and old boredom.
"I have tasted thousands of your kind," Revas whispered, his face inches from hers. "Princesses. Saints. Warriors. They all taste the same in the end. Like fear. Why should I not snap this fragile neck and go back to sleep?"
Black spots danced in Mirabelle's vision. She made herself go limp and stopped fighting. It was a risk. Predators liked when prey struggled, so by stopping, she threw him off.
She wheezed, her voice thin but audible. "Because... sleep... is boring."
Revas paused. The pressure on her throat lessened by a fraction. "Boring?"
"You are... eternal," Mirabelle rasped, her eyes watering but her gaze holding his. "How long have you been down here? A thousand years? Ten thousand? Waiting for scraps thrown by men who fear you?"
She managed a crooked, mocking smile. "You aren't a monster, Revas. You're a pet. A garbage disposal for the Kingdom of Sanctum."
The cavern air turned cold in an instant. The red lights seemed to freeze. Revas's face changed from amused to cold and angry.
He dropped her.
Mirabelle hit the stone hard, coughing violently, massaging her bruised throat. She didn't scramble away. She stayed on her knees, looking up at him as he towered over her, his shadow swallowing her whole.
"Careful," Revas hissed. "I have destroyed civilizations for less of an insult."
"And yet, here you are," Mirabelle said, her voice gaining strength. She stood up, smoothing her dress again. "Chained. Bound by the First King's magic. You can't leave this abyss unless a member of the Royal Bloodline commands it. That is the seal, isn't it?"
Revas narrowed his eyes. "You know your history."
"I know my cage," Mirabelle corrected. "And I know yours. The seal requires a Royal willing to bind their soul to yours. To hold the leash. But no King would ever do that, because they fear you. So they throw us down here to keep you fed and pacified."
She stepped closer to him, entering his space. The size difference was almost funny; he could crush her with one hand. Still, she moved with a queen's confidence.
"I am not here to feed you, Revas. I am here to wake you up."
Revas watched her, intrigued despite himself. He crossed his massive arms over his chest. "And what do you want in return? Life? Riches? To be sent back up so you can marry some fat Duke?"
"I want you to kill them," Mirabelle said.
The words hung in the silence.
"All of them," she continued. "My father. My sister. The High Priests. The nobles who cheered as I fell. I want their cities burned. I want their 'holy' kingdom turned to ash. I want to see them scream like I did when they locked me away."
He really looked at her. He looked past the ruined dress and the bruised neck. He saw the darkness swirling in her aura; a pitch-black void of hatred that rivaled his own.
A slow, frightening grin spread across his face.
"You are a broken little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, sounding almost delighted. "Cracked right down the middle."
"Will you help me break them?" Mirabelle asked. "Or are you content to stay here and rot?"
Revas hummed, a sound like a purr. He reached up and touched the iron collar around his neck. "The seal is absolute. To leave, I need a Master. Someone to hold the other end of the chain. If you bind yourself to me, your life becomes the anchor. If you die, I return to the sleep. If I die... well, I cannot die. But you will feel my pain."
He leaned down, extending a hand. Palm up. Dark smoke curled from his fingertips, forming the shape of a delicate, crimson butterfly. It flapped its wings, and where the dust touched the floor, the stone hissed and melted.
"It is an agonizing process," he warned. "Your soul will be seared. You will carry the weight of a Primordial Beast. Most minds shatter the moment the connection is made."
Mirabelle didn't hesitate.
"I have nothing left to lose," she said.
She placed her small, pale hand into his massive, scarred palm.
SNAP.
The moment their skin touched, the world exploded into red.
Mirabelle screamed. It felt like fire poured into her veins. She felt the ancient mind of the World Eater crash into hers, bringing visions of slaughter, burning stars, and endless blood.
She fell to her knees, back arching, her vision going white.
'Accept me', a voice roared in her head. 'Claim me!'
"I... claim... you!" she shrieked.
The iron collar around Revas's neck glowed white-hot. The long chain that trailed into the darkness suddenly dissolved, turning into mist. It swirled around Mirabelle's wrist, solidifying into a bracelet of black iron that matched his collar.
A ghostly chain, unseen but felt deep inside, formed between them.
The pain vanished as quickly as it had come.
Mirabelle gasped, collapsing forward. She would have hit the floor, but strong arms caught her.
She blinked, her vision clearing. She was being held against Revas's chest. He was kneeling, holding her with a strange, possessive care.
He wasn't looking at her, though. He was looking at the ceiling of the cavern...at the tiny slit of sky far, far above.
"The chains," Revas whispered, his voice trembling with ecstasy. "They are gone."
He looked down at her. His eyes glowed with a fierce loyalty. He felt her hatred through their bond. He was impressed.
Mirabelle grabbed the front of his neck, her fingers curling around the hot iron of the collar. She pulled herself up until her face was level with his. She was exhausted, bleeding, and weak, but her eyes were burning.
"I told you," she whispered. "I'm not the sacrifice."
Revas chuckled darkly. He stood up, lifting her effortlessly in his arms as if she were a doll. The spectral chain between them pulled taut, humming with power.
"No," he agreed. "You are the Master."
He walked toward the cavern wall, where the shadows were deepest. He raised a hand, and the swarm of crimson butterflies erupted from his skin, thousands of them, swirling into a frenzy that began to eat through the rock, carving a staircase up toward the surface.
"So, Mistress," Revas said, stepping onto the first stair. "Who dies first?"