Sylphia woke in the middle of the night to screaming.
Not her own.
Sammail's.
His voice tore through the dark like a wounded animal, raw and broken.
"Die already…"
The rest dissolved into choking sounds and half-formed words.
It was her third night in Jester's and Sammail's house.
The screams weren't new.
But they never became easier to hear.
She lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.
Then she felt it.
pain.
Wet.
Her hand trembled as she lifted it from the sheets.
Blood.
Her bedsheets were soaked.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She looked down.
Her fingers had changed.
Claws.
Sharp.
Black.
Still slick.
Hunger surged so violently it made her nauseous.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Shame burned hotter than fear.
" Don't wake them. Don't let them see you like this."
She stumbled out of bed and locked herself in the bathroom.
Her hands shook as she stripped her clothes away.
Bite marks covered her body.
Deep.
Animal.
Messy.
They hurt like hell.
Tears streamed down her face — mixed with blood leaking from her eyes.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
And didn't recognize what stared back.
The angel she had been —
white hair, soft light, gentle wings —
was gone.
In her place stood something twisted.
Black hair clung to her face.
Her eyes glowed red and black like the crimson moon.
Her skin bore teeth marks.
She gripped the sink to keep from collapsing.
"Who… are you?"
The hunger clawed at her mind, relentless.
She bit into her own arm without thinking.
Blood filled her mouth.
And with it —
images of Sammail's neck.
His warmth.
His blood.
She recoiled, horrified.
"So this is how demons are born"
She turned on the shower and let scalding water crash over her body.
Steam filled the room.
"If this keeps happening," she whispered, laughing weakly,
"I'll have to kill myself."
The thought didn't scare her.
That scared her.
When the water stopped, she wiped the mirror clean.
Nothing had changed.
The claws.
The fangs.
The hunger.
She struck the mirror.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Glass shattered.
She picked up a shard.
Pressed it to her chest.
Nothing.
No wound.
No blood.
" Why do you refuse to die ? "
She drove her claws in next.
Pain flared —
but death refused to come.
She collapsed against the wall, vision swimming red.
"I'm all alone," she whispered.
"Nothing changed except my body…"
Her voice broke.
"Why can't I just die?"
She raised her claws again.
This time, they pierced something.
Not her.
A hand caught her wrist.
Sammail's.
He stood there, bleeding, barefoot, eyes hollow with exhaustion.
"You deserve to live," he said quietly.
"My kind deserves to die. Not yours."
He smiled —
a gentle, broken smile trying desperately to hide guilt and agony.
"You look beautiful," he added softly.
"Did you change your hair?"
Something inside her snapped.
She shoved him down and straddled him, blood dripping from her body onto his.
Tears poured from her eyes — thick and red.
"Why won't you let me die?" she whispered.
She didn't wait for an answer.
She tore his clothes open and bit into his neck.
Hard.
Hungry.
Desperate.
Violent.
Sammail gasped, fingers digging into the floor as his strength drained.
"I'm selfish," he murmured weakly.
"I know."
A breathless laugh.
"Just… bear with me."
Behind the door, unseen —
Jester watched with narrowed eyes, expression unreadable.
"Huh," he muttered to himself.
"Lilith and I never did things like this."
A crooked smile crept across his face.
"How lucky you two are..."