Chapter 102 Hundred And Two
KAZIEL (The Hollow)
When I awoke inside his body, every memory rushed in at once. The smell of dust and blood in that basement. The crack of bone. His mother's voice. His affection for her. His prayers. His hatred.
For ten days after the transfer, I could not heal.
I didn't understand why at first. I tried again and again to knit broken skin, close the wounds and stop the bleeding. Nothing responded. His body rejected my nature. Magic slid off him like water over stone. I felt everything. Every blade. Every strike. Every violation.
I learned pain in those ten days.
Real pain.
When healing finally came, it came imperfectly. And it left scars behind. I learned then that this body would never obey me fully. It would demand effort.
Humanity was not given. It had to be studied.
So I learned.
I learned how to walk without drawing attention. How to breathe when I was anxious. How to speak without sounding like an animal. How to smile without baring my teeth.
I learned how to be ‘normal’ the way one learns a second language.
I studied twice as hard because failure meant exposure. I devoured textbooks not for ambition, but for survival. I memorized anatomy because understanding the human body felt like penance. I wanted to save lives. I needed to prove to myself more than anyone that I was not only a weapon.
Medical school nearly killed me.
Not because it was difficult, but because I loved it.
I loved the purpose. The way hands could heal instead of destroy. I graduated top of my class not out of pride, but out of desperation. If I could save enough people, maybe the universe would forget what I was built to do.
I was wrong.
The mother of a boy I saved—the one whose heart had nearly stopped in my hands—looked at me with terror instead of gratitude.
She said she could see it. Apparently, she had the eyes of a seer. She said I was a thief wearing someone else's skin.
She called me a monster.
I quit after that.
I told myself it didn't matter. That the work was only a distraction. That I was still fulfilling my purpose elsewhere. But that was a lie.
I mourned that life.
I mourned the man I had almost been.
And then there was her.
Danika.
I hungered for her at first like an insatiable beast. I felt her like gravity. She was overwhelming and consuming. Every instinct of mine wanted me to devour her. To complete the cycle written into my existence.
Instead, I watched her breathe.
My obsession frightened me.
My love undid me.
Every day that I chose her, my body paid the price. The seizures weren't punishments for weakness, they were consequences of rebellion.
And I accepted them because losing her was worse.
Now, staring at my angel crying as I cup her face, it feels like I've been gutted and left for dead.
I press my forehead to hers and breathe her in because I know I might never get the chance again.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
The words are too small.
"I'm sorry I lied by omission. I'm sorry I loved you, knowing it would cost everything."
I kiss her forehead gently.
"You gave me a soul," I croak. "Even if it doesn’t feel real.”
I pull her into my chest, holding her while she sobs bitterly.
"You're supposed to be immortal," Danika cries. "That's what you are. So why are you dying? Why are you hurting me like this?"
The question burns me like a red-hot knife.
I close my eyes.
"I was immortal," I tell her softly. "Until you."
Her breath hitches.
"The curse made me eternal," I continue, forcing the words out.
"I couldn't fade, and I couldn't die even when I wanted to."
I lift my gaze back to hers.
"No one has ever broken the curse," I whisper. "Not in centuries. Not once. People tried."
I still can't believe it.
"And then you did," I whisper.
Her lips part. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know," I say immediately.
I rest my forehead against hers.
"The moment you fully activated the sanctum earlier, the curse shattered," I breathe. "And when that happened, I stopped being eternal. The curse is my source, Danika. With it gone, I can't exist."
Her hands tremble against my chest.
"I'm sorry," she whimpers.
"You didn't fail me," I tell her fiercely. "You did the one thing no one else ever could. Just...think of it as...setting me free."
Gods, I don't want to be free from her.
"Then tell me how," she begs, her lashes wet. "Tell me what to do. I'll do anything. Just—just tell me how to save you."
The desperation in her eyes is killing me. So, I lean in and kiss her.
My lips barely brush hers, my form shaking so hard I have to brace myself against her to stay upright. When I pull back, my forehead rests against hers, our breaths tangled.
"I don't know," I whisper.
She gasps. "What do you mean you don't know?"
I swallow, my chest tightening painfully.
"I was never meant to reach this point," I say hoarsely. "I never studied beyond the curse's permanence. There was no after to plan for."
My voice cracks despite myself.
I slide a hand up her arm, clinging to her.
"When the sanctum stopped the bloodthirst without killing me," I admit, my voice shaking, "I had hope. For the first time."
Tears roll down my face before I can stop them.
"I thought... maybe I could live," I choke. "Really live. Be here. Grow old. Watch you laugh at ridiculous things. Hold our child. Learn what comes after survival."
I let out a sob.
"I thought... maybe I'd found a loophole. Maybe I could exist like this forever. With you."
I breathe in her scent, strongly aware of the fact that my legs are fading.
"I never prepared for an ending," I tell her. "Because I didn't believe I was allowed to have one."
My strength finally gives out. I lean into her fully now, my weight sagging as my body shudders. She catches me instantly, her arms wrapping around me.
"I can feel it," I murmur against her hair. "Pieces of me... slipping."
"Please, Kaziel, please!" She cries harder, holding me tighter.
I press my lips to her temple.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean to give you hope just to leave you with grief."
My arms tighten around her one last time, desperately.
"But if loving you is what made me mortal," I breathe, "then I would do it again. Even knowing how this ends."
I slump fully into her, my weight barely registering anymore, like I'm made of smoke.
"No—no, no—please—" she cries, clutching me to her chest. "Don't—don't you dare—"
My eyelids flutter.
The edges of my vision sparkle, tiny lights drifting away from my hands, like fireflies lifting off my skin and vanishing into the dark. I'm still here. I can still feel her warmth.
But I'm already leaving.
She lifts her face toward the open sky and screams.
"Mother Selene! Please!"
"Please save him!"
"I'll do anything—just don't take him—"
I'm more miserable hearing her scream because I know it's useless. The moon goddess probably hates me.
Suddenly, silver light pours down, bathing us both.
"You call for help on behalf of what was never meant to live," a soft feminine voice speaks.
Danika doesn't loosen her grip on me. "He is alive."
"He is not a soul."
"I don't care," Dani sobs. "Make him one."
"What are you willing to give," the goddess asks, "to make him real?"
"Anything," Danika answers instantly.
"No," I rasp weakly, panic flooding through what little of me remains. "Dani—don't—"
She doesn't look at me.
"Your child?" The voice asks, and dread washes over me. "Would you give the life growing inside you?"
Danika doesn't flinch. "Yes."
My heart shatters.
"Your memories?" The goddess continues. "Every moment you shared with him. He would live... but you would forget him."
"Yes," Dani says again, her voice shaking but resolute.
Tears spill freely down my face now.
"Your lifespan?" the goddess presses. "Years shaved away. Decades. You are nineteen, little one. He is centuries old."
"Yes," Danika whispers. "Take it. Take anything. Just don't take him."
I'm sobbing soundlessly now, my chest constricting.
She's willing to erase herself for me.
Me—a thing that was never meant to love.
She finally looks down at me, her eyes wrecked but fierce.
"I choose you," she says. "Every time."
A tear slides down my temple as my vision grows dim.
I'm centuries old.
She's only nineteen. I don't deserve her.
The last thing I feel is her forehead pressed to mine. And everything fades.
....
Air floods my lungs so quickly, it has me coughing. I suck in another breath, clutching my aching chest.
My eyes fly open.
My hands slam upward and hit a solid resistance with a dull thud. Panic flashes inside me for half a second before my instinct overrides it.
I'm inside a coffin, I realize.
So, I shove it.
The lid cracks open with a loud creak, and cold air floods in. I gasp, dragging it into my lungs like I've been starved for centuries.
The lid falls back completely, and bright light stabs my eyes.
My officials are standing frozen in a perfect half-circle around the coffin.
All dressed in black. For a funeral. Oh hell.