29: A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

**CELESTE**

The spell was absolute nonsense.

No, really. I had been staring at it for the better part of an hour, and I was starting to think Erkel had handed me a practical joke rather than anything of actual use. The ink glistened like fresh blood, curling into symbols and words I could almost—almost—understand, but the meaning slipped through my fingers like water.

I pressed my lips together, tapping the parchment against my palm. Focus. I knew what this spell was meant to do. I knew what I needed from it. And yet—nothing happened.

Exhaling slowly, I held out my hand, whispering the words again, letting my voice curl around the syllables with the weight of my intent. Power stirred at the edges of my fingertips, thin and brittle like an old thread stretched too tight. A flicker of something. A shudder in the air.

Then, the magic fizzled out like a dying candle flame.

“Ugh.” I threw my head back and groaned. “Piece of—”

“—What exactly are you doing?”

I snapped my head up, my heart lurching into my throat.

Mona stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one delicate brow arched in that way only she could manage—equal parts amusement and disapproval.

For someone so sweet, she had a real talent for judgmental expressions.

“Nothing,” I said, entirely too quickly.

Mona’s gaze flicked to the parchment in my hand. “Oh, yes. It definitely looks like nothing.”

I sighed, rolling up the spell and tucking it into my sleeve. “It’s just a little experiment. A failed one, apparently.”

Mona narrowed her eyes. “Celeste.”

Uh-oh. That was her I’m about to pry voice.

I flashed my best innocent smile. “Mona.”

“Who gave you that?”

I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning offense. “What, you don’t think I’m capable of advanced spellcraft on my own?”

“Not with that look on your face.”

I deflated a little. She was annoyingly perceptive. “It’s not important,” I said, heading for the door. “And speaking of not important, I have somewhere to be.”

“Celeste.”

“Love you, bye!” I slipped past her before she could say another word, ignoring her exasperated sigh.

I needed more power. And I knew exactly where to get it.

The moment I set my mind to finding the Elder, it was like something unseen grabbed hold of my ribs and pulled.

A magnetic force. A whispering thread of fate.

I wove through the palace halls without hesitation—past guards, past rooms I had never entered, past centuries of history carved into stone and silk. It should not have been possible, this knowing, this certainty. But I felt it in my bones, guiding my feet, whispering this way, this way, this way.

And then, suddenly, I was there.

The door loomed before me, ancient wood bound in metal that glowed faintly, as if remembering the hands that had touched it before mine.

I lifted my fist. Knocked once. Twice.

The door swung open before the third.

The Elder was waiting for me.

Her eyes, deep and endless, studied me with the kind of knowing that made my skin prickle.

“Child,” she said, her voice like the rustling of old parchment. “You have come.”

“Yeah,” I said, stepping inside. “Apparently, I do that a lot.”

The room was vast and dimly lit, walls lined with books, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, their scent thick in the air. Candles flickered without flame, held aloft by unseen forces.

I did not waste time. “I need your help.”

The Elder tilted her head. “So sure of your purpose. Tell me, then—what do you seek?”

I reached into my sleeve, drawing out the parchment. “A spell,” I said simply.

She took it, her fingers gliding over the ink with a slowness that felt deliberate. Calculated.

Her lips pressed together. “Where did you get this?”

I hesitated.

Something in her voice made me wary—an edge of skepticism, of something dangerously close to judgment.

I met her gaze, tilting my chin up. “Does it matter?”

“It does,” she said, unreadable.

“Then consider it a gift,” I said smoothly. “Now, can you help me or not?”

Silence stretched between us. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she exhaled through her nose.

“You are reckless,” she murmured. “And stubborn.”

“So I’ve been told.”

A pause.

Then—

“Very well.”

The magic was immediate.

A rush, a flood, a tidal wave that crashed into me the moment the spell was spoken aloud.

Power laced through my veins, electric and burning, coiling beneath my skin like a living thing. It was not like before—not a weak thread, not a flicker.

This was raw. Vast.

Alive.

I staggered, gasping as the force of it settled, as my body struggled to contain something greater than itself.

I barely registered the Elder’s voice—something about balance, about cost, about consequences.

But I was already moving.

There was no time.

Erkel was waiting.

He stood exactly where he said he would, the moonlight carving shadows across his sharp features, that ever-present smirk curling his lips.

I narrowed my eyes as I approached. “You look smug.”

“I am smug,” he corrected, tilting his head. “And I see you’ve done it. That’s a relief. I was beginning to worry you’d be utterly useless.”

“You’re so charming,” I deadpanned.

He chuckled. “Tell me, Celeste—how does it feel?”

I rolled my shoulders, testing the magic humming beneath my skin. “Like I could tear you in half.”

His smirk widened. “Ah. Then it worked perfectly.”

I crossed my arms and tilted my head, eyeing Erkel with open suspicion. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He smirked, stepping closer with that infuriating, lazy grace—like a cat toying with a half-dead mouse. “Oh, Celeste, I always enjoy our little chats. You have such a charming way of making everything more difficult than it needs to be.”

I snorted. “And you have such a punchable face. It’s honestly impressive.”

His laughter was soft, condescending. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Good. That wasn’t flattery.”

Erkel tsked, shaking his head like I had disappointed him. “You wound me.”

“I could wound you,” I said, letting my fingers twitch, magic stirring just beneath my skin, eager, waiting. “In ways you wouldn’t recover from.”

His eyes flickered, something dark flashing through them before amusement took over again. “Careful, little sorceress. Power is only as strong as the one who wields it. And you?” He tilted his head, watching me like he had already decided I was beneath him. “You’re still just a desperate girl playing with forces beyond her grasp.”

I took a slow step forward, meeting his gaze with fire of my own. “Funny,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “I was just about to say the same about you. Tell me, Erkel—how does it feel knowing you’ll never be more than a second-rate trickster with daddy issues?”

His smirk remained, but I saw the tension in his jaw.

“You’re mistaken if you think your sharp tongue makes you a threat.”

I grinned. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.”

Erkel hummed, as if considering my words. “It’s a shame, really,” he mused. “I had high hopes for you, Celeste. But it seems you’re determined to be nothing more than a foolish little girl clinging to a monster who will never love you the way you so desperately wish he would.”

Something twisted in my chest, sharp and cruel, but I refused to let it show. I raised a brow instead. “Oh, please. Like you’d know anything about love. The closest thing you’ve ever had to companionship is whatever reflection stares back at you when you’re done kissing your own ass in the mirror.”

Erkel chuckled, slow and dangerous. “You’re deflecting.”

“And you’re projecting.”

He sighed as if I exhausted him, but the flicker of irritation in his eyes gave him away. “There are far better uses for that mouth of yours than running it.”

I placed a hand on my chest in mock astonishment. “Erkel! Are you flirting with me? How scandalous. And here I thought you only had eyes for your own ego.”

His smirk widened. “I can appreciate beauty when I see it. Even when it comes wrapped in thorns.”

“That’s adorable,” I said dryly. “But I’d rather set myself on fire than entertain whatever idea just wormed its way into your head.”

Erkel leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “That can be arranged.”

I didn’t flinch. I met his gaze, steady and unyielding. “Try me.”

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then Erkel exhaled and stepped back. “You’re lucky I like you.”

I smiled sweetly. “Trust me, the feeling isn’t mutual.”

I crossed my arms. “What do you want, Erkel?”

His gaze gleamed with something unreadable. “So eager to discuss business.”

“I don’t have time for your games,” I said. “You wanted me to prove myself. I did. Now, what do you want in return?”

His smile didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened, his hand slipping into his coat, retrieving something slender, gleaming in the moonlight.

A dagger.

Elegant. Deadly.

Wrong.

The moment I laid eyes on it, something inside me knew.

I did not have to ask what it was.

Or what it would do.

But Erkel said it anyway, relishing each syllable as he held it out to me.

“I want you to kill Elijah.”

A beat of silence.

The air was too thick. Too still.

My fingers twitched.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, though I already knew that he was.

His expression remained unchanged, as if he was offering me something as mundane as a cup of tea. “Think of it as poetic justice.”

I swallowed hard.

This was never part of the deal.

This was never—

My hand curled into a fist.

The magic inside me surged, uncertain, waiting for my command.

Erkel watched me, waiting.

I stared at the dagger.

And I wondered if this was always inevitable.