SUFFERING

SUFFERING

“What did you do to her?” Dominic’s voice rang out like a whip, sharp enough to cut through the heavy air between them.

Elira stood a few paces away, her face carved from stone. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Silence was her weapon, and she wielded it like a blade, letting it stretch between them until it became almost unbearable.

The wind outside rattled the window shutters, but neither of them moved. Dominic’s eyes burned into her, searching for the smallest crack in her composure.

“Elira,” he said again, each syllable ground out like stone against stone. “This is not a joke. Are you going to tell me where the hell you kept Aria?” His voice was lower this time, but not softer—more like a storm about to break.

Her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, as if she was deciding whether he deserved an answer. Finally, she cleared her throat, though her gaze remained fixed on something beyond him.

“I think you’d better go home and get some rest,” she said at last, her tone carrying the sharp bite of dismissal. “Most things won’t get solved simply because you’re involved.” The words were laced with a strange finality, like a door being shut in his face.

Dominic’s hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “You think this is about me getting involved? She’s out there somewhere, alone—maybe hurt, maybe worse—and you’re standing here acting like it’s none of my business.” His voice cracked slightly at the edges, frustration bleeding into something far more vulnerable.

Elira tilted her head just enough to catch his expression. “Maybe it isn’t your business,” she said softly, but the softness wasn’t kindness—it was the warning of a predator before it strikes.

Dominic stepped forward, close enough that the air between them turned heavy. “You’re hiding something,” he growled.

Her eyes finally met his. They were cold. Dangerous. Unreadable. “And if I am?”

He opened his mouth to speak—but in that same instant, she was gone. No movement, no sound, no flicker of magic he could catch. One heartbeat she was there, the next there was nothing but the faint echo of her voice lingering in the air.

—

When she reappeared, it was at the towering stone gate to the other world. The air here hummed with old magic, thick enough to taste, and the portal shimmered like a living thing—silver and blue light twisting within its arch.

Damien was there, one hand resting on the gate’s surface, ready to step through. His posture was tense, his jaw set, every line of him ready to fight whatever waited on the other side.

He wasn't going to let Aria die. He wasn't ready to lose everything—at least, he should have Aria if he can't get immortality.

He wasn't sure if he was going to survive whatever battles he was going to face, but he wouldn't just chicken out.

“You’re wasting your time. This wasn't the plan,” Elira’s voice slid into the stillness like a serpent, making him freeze.

He turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Where’s Aria?” he snapped.

Elira laughed. “Why are you both eager to find her? She is doing perfectly well wherever she is,” she mocked.

Damien scoffed. “Elira, this isn't a time to joke around,” he threatened.

“She’s not here,” Elira said, stepping fully into the gate’s pale glow. “She’s in another realm—one you cannot reach. When she’s done there, she will return,” she added.

Damien was frustrated. His face grew pale and his ears red. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He just needed confirmation to know if Aria was the immortal child that was said in the book. He didn't mean to risk her life that much.

Damien’s brows pulled together. “Done with what?” he snarled.

Elira’s expression changed. “You wanted to know the truth, right?”

Elira smirked faintly, the expression not reaching her eyes. “Searching for answers that won’t serve her. Tell yourself this, Damien—when she comes back, she’ll have nothing worth the blood she’s spilling.” Her voice had an edge of finality, of inevitability. “So don’t fret… but don’t follow.”

“What do we do now?” he screamed.

Elira giggled. “Wait for her return,” she said, her voice fading away slowly.

—

Meanwhile, in that far-off realm, Aria’s breaths came shallow and ragged. She was lying down on the field with no strength left.

She cursed the day she insisted on knowing the truth. She cursed the old hag who brought her there.

“Is the truth this hard to find?” she whispered.

Her whole body was covered with blood. She found out many things, but they were just general knowledge—it had nothing about her.

She paused for a second. “Wait! Was my coming here a trap?” she thought.

Aria crawled her way through the field and stood opposite a cave, but she had to inspect if it was safe enough.

Her body ached in ways she hadn’t thought possible, every muscle screaming from hours of battle. The stench of blood clung to her like a second skin—her own, and that of the predators whose corpses littered the ground behind her.

An entire army had come for her—fangs, claws, eyes glowing in the dark—and she had slain them all. But victory felt hollow when her strength was nearly gone.

She staggered toward the jagged mouth of a cave, her boots dragging through the dirt. The stone inside was cool against her feverish skin, and the shadows seemed to swallow her whole.

For now, it was safe.

She slumped against the wall, gripping her weapon loosely in one blood-slicked hand. Her eyelids were heavy, but she knew she couldn’t fully rest—not here, not yet. The distant echo of growls outside reminded her that the golden path was far from over.

And somewhere deep inside, she knew—this was only the beginning of what she would have to survive.

Aria sighed in regret. She was once an innocent girl who knew nothing but being locked up inside a penthouse.

Now, she had hands filled with blood and a hardened heart.

Chapter 38: Aria appearance