A knock startled Hazel out of her thoughts.
"Come in."
The door opened and two maids slipped inside like shadows. They moved quickly, eyes fixed on the floor, never once meeting hers. One set down a plate of steaming soup that smelled of rich herbs and cream. The other placed warm buttered bread beside it. The aroma hit Hazel like a spell. Her stomach growled loud enough to make her cheeks heat.
She tore into the bread first. The flavor exploded across her tongue — soft, golden, perfectly salted. A low groan slipped out before she could stop it. He sure knows how to treat his prisoner, she thought, a small smile tugging at her lips. She shook her head hard. Stop that. Yet her heart felt strangely warm at the idea.
Hazel tore through the rest of the food with calm haste. The soup was just as good — creamy, savory, everything she hadn't realized she was starving for. She glanced at the maids again. They kept their heads down, clearing the table in perfect silence.
"Thank you for the food," she said.
"Don't thank us, Milady," they replied in unison, voices flat. "It was the master's request."
Hazel's fork paused mid-air. "Where is your master?"
"We don't know, Milady."
"Alright. You can leave."
The maids bowed and vanished faster than they had appeared. Hazel stared at the empty doorway. Better this way, she told herself. She still wasn't sure about him.
Everything about Damon felt strange. Why did he fight other demons? What were his real goals? That vision from the training ground kept flashing behind her eyes — his bare chest, the sweat tracing his muscles, the single slash that had cut the world itself. She clenched her fist. Powerful. She needed that kind of power if she was going to burn the king and every traitor who had used her.
Boredom crept in. The room suddenly felt too quiet, too soft. Hazel stood and decided to explore the mansion. Mapping escape routes was smart. Just in case things went sideways.
She went downstairs. The dining hall was empty except for Eva, who was sprawled across a couch without a care in the world, a book dangling from her fingers. Hazel leaned in, curious. The title read Passionate Embrace. Her cheeks burned. How can she read that? It kind of suited the bubbly redhead, though.
Book. Library. The thought clicked.
Hazel tried to remember the way from Eva's direction. Opposite the kitchen, probably. And a good library would need light, so higher up. She climbed the stairs, following her instincts.
The air grew heavier the higher she went. Afternoon sunlight should have been streaming in, but the corridors felt darker. Shadows clung to the walls like living things. The stone itself seemed colder, older. A faint whisper brushed past her ear — or maybe it was just the wind. Her body tensed on pure instinct. This place didn't feel welcoming. It felt like it was watching her.
She reached the top floor. Her hand brushed the heavy door. A small jolt of energy shot up her arm. The door slid open on its own with a low, grinding sound.
Hazel stepped inside and froze.
Wow.
Books. Thousands of them. Not just shelves — the entire room was a tower of knowledge stacked floor to ceiling, spiraling upward like a black spire. The air smelled of old leather, dust, and something metallic, like dried blood. Dim lanterns flickered with unnatural purple light, casting long, shifting shadows that seemed to move when she wasn't looking. Some books glowed faintly. Others had chains wrapped around them, as if they might try to escape. The mansion had not looked this tall from the outside. Pocket space. It had to be.
She started climbing the spiral stairs. Her fingers trailed along the spines. Manuals on blood magic. Strange glowing scrolls that hummed when she passed. Ancient texts written in languages that hurt to look at too long. Sweat beaded on her forehead by the time she reached the top level. The air here felt thinner. Darker. Like the weight of every secret in the room was pressing down on her chest.
Her heart surged. Fire sparked behind her eyes. Something was calling to her. Pulling.
Seven scrolls floated in a slow circle at the center of the platform, pulsing with dark energy.
One of them broke formation. It drifted toward her like it had been waiting.
Hazel hesitated. Her blood boiled in her veins, urging her to reach out. He won't be mad… right? After all, he had brought her here. She grabbed it.
The scroll burned away in her hands, revealing a black book with silver runes etched into the cover. The title simply read Resonance.
Her hands trembled. This felt ancient. Dangerous. Like it had been waiting for her blood specifically.
"Impressive."
The low voice slid through the darkness behind her.
Hazel flinched hard and spun around.
Damon leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, completely relaxed. His violet eyes had darkened to something closer to midnight, but the smirk on his handsome face was calm. Too calm. Like a predator who had already decided how this hunt would end.
Hazel clenched her fist. "This is not what it looks like."
"Oh?" Damon tilted his head, amusement dripping from his tone. "Then tell me, little flame. What exactly is it?"
"It came to me all of a sudden," she snapped, cheeks burning. "I didn't try stealing anything."
A soft laugh rolled out of him — low, rich, and far too pleased. Hazel's stomach flooded with butterflies despite herself. His laughter felt… elating. For a second he almost seemed easy. Almost.
"I know," he said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. Each footfall was measured, deliberate. "You would have been rotting from the inside out if you had tried to steal it."
Hazel's blood ran cold. She had almost died just now? Without even knowing it?
Damon stopped an arm's length away. Close enough that his cedar-and-smoke scent wrapped around her. Close enough that she could see the faint black threads swirling in his violet eyes.
"I don't think I should call you lucky," he continued, voice calm but edged with something darker. "That scroll choosing you means something. Forbidden power. Cursed. They always come with… terrifying effects."
He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of golden hair from her face, thumb lingering just a second too long against her cheek.
"So tell me, Hazel…" His smirk deepened, calm and dangerous all at once. "Are you still sure you want to play with things that bite back?"