“So, how was Solaris?”

  The question drifted through the heavy silence like a whisper—and I immediately pulled the thick, worn blanket over my head, not bothering to open my eyes. I was still half-drowned in the lingering haze of a deep, restless sleep.

  Even if I had glanced upward, I wouldn’t have wanted to see the reason for the voice hovering right above me: the cruel, cold presence of an evil god.

  His voice broke through the quiet again, smooth and detached, like some cruel breeze sliding over a grave.

  “Pretty good, all things considered. Though… they could really improve their air quality.”

  My mind conjured the foul stench that had clung to those dank tunnels—the sharp, sour smell of decay where rotting carcasses had been left out in the open. The guard and Hannah had done what they could, but no one else had bothered to clean up the older corpses. Larvae wriggled beneath peeling skin; flies buzzed and swarmed. It was revolting.

  “At least they’ve invented soap,” he continued, voice dripping with condescension, “though few seem inclined to use it.”

  I’d seen it coming—this world was backwards in so many ways, and I wasn’t surprised by the casual cruelty in his words.

  I said nothing at first. There was no point in replying. But mostly—I just didn’t want to talk.

  Minutes stretched like frozen water. The silence pressed against me like a weight until, finally, I broke it.

  “Are you angry?”

  He should have been. I’d led us into a trap—a no-win situation where my only escape had been death itself. Imprisoned, I wouldn′t be able to free myself, no matter what he did. Yet, instead of rage, his voice held only cold amusement.

  He sounded too calm. Too unmoved.

  That scared me. Because if he wasn’t surprised, if he had expected this all along, then there was no doubt he had a counter ready.

  “Because you killed yourself in a prison cell, hoping to be trapped there forever?” His tone was mocking but measured, like a teacher amused by a student’s naive mistake. “Although, an interesting move I’ll admit, I saw it coming from miles away.”

  A bitter pang tightened my chest. I didn’t want to hear more—I didn’t want to admit I had lost again, despite all I’d sacrificed.

  “Do you want to know what you did wrong?”

  I swallowed hard. The answer was clear even before he spoke.

  “You thought I couldn’t change anything on Solaris. That I was powerless to interfere.”

  He let out a slow, mocking sigh.

  “But I have some idiots on the ground, doing exactly what I command. They’ve already retrieved the key the guard tossed away.”

  He sounded almost grateful, which was worse.

  “Thanks to your little stunt, I have full control. No one will free you from that cell unless I say so.”

  The word that slipped from my lips was sharp, raw:

  “Fuck.”

  His words were the darkest thing I’d ever heard.

  The guard had confirmed Hannah couldn’t save me. Without that key, I was trapped.

  And through my desperate act, I’d only given the god more time—time to shape the prison however he wanted, without anyone to interfere.

  If I was right, the floor I was on would soon be completely submerged, cutting me off from the world forever.

  Only he could save me.

  A long pause followed, and then he spoke again.

  “But don’t worry—it’s not all perfect for me, either.”

  His voice grew colder, tinged with frustration.

  “My followers on Solaris are useless, scattered like leaves in the wind. Rescuing you while the place sinks? Impossible for me.”

  For a moment, I thought maybe I’d won.

  Maybe this god would be stuck, stranded for a while.

  Maybe my friends could live in peace.

  But then he added, almost casually:

  “You aren’t ready yet, anyway. There’s still so much I need to teach you.”

  Whenever a flicker of hope dared to bloom inside me, he would ruthlessly snuff it out—each time, without fail. I had sacrificed everything: my strength, my dignity, my very essence. Yet, he twisted even that sacrifice into another weapon against me, wielding it with cruel precision.

  Tears streamed freely down my cheeks, hot and relentless, carving silent rivers across my face. But strangely, beneath the storm of emotion, my mind remained eerily clear—razor-sharp, as if forged in the furnace of despair. Maybe this was what I was made for: to endure pressure until nothing was left but cold, unyielding clarity.

  But even that steel resolve could not save me from the stark truth clawing at my chest:

  I had lost.

  “I give up,” I whispered, voice trembling. “Do whatever you want.”

  The weight of defeat settled over me like a suffocating shroud. Trying to reason with him felt like staring into a black hole—an abyss that devoured everything it touched. My life, my willpower, my spark to fight—they’d all been sucked dry, leaving me hollow and spent.

  “You haven’t even listened to my reasons,” his voice slithered through the silence, cold and insistent.

  Should I care about his motives? Could understanding them change anything? Would it soften my resolve to hear the dark purpose behind his cruelty? No. Not in the slightest.

  “I don’t want to.”

  I curled deeper into the blanket, pressing it tightly over my ears in a futile attempt to block him out. But the moment I tried to shut him away, his voice seemed to grow louder—closer—more invasive.

  A chill crawled up my spine, because I knew—he had crept closer without me noticing, like some malevolent shadow.

  “But you promised.”

  I had.

  But what did that promise mean now? I would show him I was still capable of breaking my own vows.

  With a sudden burst of will, I yanked the blanket away and glared at him. His face, or the cloudy darkness he was, was just centimeters from mine—an unbearable proximity that made my skin crawl.

  “I don’t care!” I screamed, the words raw and desperate, as if shouting could tear through the void between us. But he remained unmoved, as indifferent to my volume as a mountain is to the wind.

  “Will you listen if I let you decide whether to keep your memories?”

  The words cut through my anger like a blade, and suddenly my frustration dissolved into confusion.

  Why would I ever agree to lose my memories? What twisted logic was this? Was he offering me a choice, hoping I might join forces with him if I understood his reasons? But that made no sense—he already held all the cards.

  Still… the offer was an opportunity, and in this bleak place, opportunities were rare.

  “Alright. I’ll listen.”

  Hope flickered again, fragile and hesitant. From everything I’d experienced, he hadn’t once broken a promise I could remember. I could say no afterward—refuse whatever he offered—and everything would go back to the way it was.

  “Is that so?” His voice purred with dark satisfaction. “Take my hand, then.”

  I hesitated, confused by the gesture. But the moment our skin touched, I knew—I had crossed the point of no return.

  There was no going back.

  * * *

  “You’re a liar.” Quite some time later, I was lying in bed again, on top of the blanket. The god was reading a book beside me and left me alone with my racing thoughts. What he previously showed me changed everything from the ground up.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I never said that I am only saying the truth.” I certainly couldn’t remember anything like this, but I was still shocked at how much he lied to me to get me to this point.

  “But that … that was the whole truth?” At first, I couldn’t believe what he told me or showed me, but it made sense at some point. Every contradicting thing about myself and the world fitted perfectly together if I were to believe him.

  “It was. I don’t have any intent to lie to you ever again.” Sometimes, he could be lovely, which made me doubt him even more usually, but not in this case. I turned my head to look at him. The once utterly dark figure turned into a perfectly normal human. He had Blonde hair, was around eighteen years old, was relatively short for his age and had piercing dark blue eyes. He honestly looked quite handsome, which made everything even weirder.

  “Is that so? Anyway, I don’t believe your plan will work.” If he wanted to succeed, we would need to spend much time together initially. I just knew that this could never work with our characters. “We both need to like each other somehow. Otherwise, we will smash the other′s head quite often.”

  “Liking each other is a bit too difficult for me… it includes preferences to character, actions by the other person and even more. Besides, I don’t think liking each other would bring us far enough…” I turned away from him, weirded out by what his words implied.

  “You will make me love you?” The thought didn’t freak me out as much as it should, but considering it was my only way forward, I was willing to accept that.

  “I already did; I just suppressed your feelings for me.” He planned everything out in advance. It was no wonder that I lost time and time again. But if he had been so successful so far, there was no reason to think that it wouldn’t stay like this, and this was precisely what we both needed.

  “Weirdo.” Still, thinking about everything I learned until now made him shine in quite a weird light. I took my pillow and threw it in his face, knowing that I wouldn’t go further than this.

  “I think I deserved that.” I nodded, satisfied, and looked back towards him. As I wanted to speak up, he returned his book and continued the conversation. “I don’t think there is a need to drag this out further. Have you made up your mind?”

  * * *

  “You’re a liar.”

  Quite some time had passed since then. Now, I was lying in bed again—this time on top of the blanket, unable to bury myself beneath it like before. The god sat beside me, quietly reading a book, giving me the solitude I craved amidst the storm raging inside my mind. His presence was both a comfort and a torment, as my thoughts raced uncontrollably.

  What he had shown me earlier—those twisted revelations—had shattered everything I thought I knew. My entire world, every certainty I once clung to, had been dismantled from the ground up.

  “I never said that I only tell the truth.”

  His words echoed in my head. I couldn’t recall him ever outright claiming honesty, yet I had been so desperate for clarity that I’d clung to his words like lifelines. The extent of his deception stunned me. How easily and thoroughly he had manipulated me, bending reality to suit his purpose, left me numb.

  “But… that was the whole truth?”

  Doubt clawed at me. At first, disbelief wrenched my mind in knots, but the more I pondered, the more it all seemed to align—every contradiction in my memories, every fracture in the world around me suddenly made sense if I accepted his version.

  “It was. I have no intent to lie to you again.”

  His voice softened in a way I hadn’t expected. Sometimes, beneath that godlike cruelty, there was a strange tenderness. It unsettled me, made me question everything more deeply—especially now.

  I turned my head slowly to look at him.

  The dark, ominous figure I had feared was gone, replaced by a young man who looked utterly human. Blonde hair tousled carelessly, an age no older than eighteen, slightly shorter than I expected, and eyes a piercing, unsettling shade of deep blue—intense and unreadable. He was genuinely handsome, almost disarmingly so. The contradiction of his appearance only twisted the knife deeper into my confusion.

  “Is that so?” I said quietly, the skepticism heavy in my voice. “Still, I don’t believe your plan will work.”

  If he truly wanted this to succeed, if we were to reach any kind of understanding or alliance, we would have to spend a lot of time together—time I wasn’t sure I was willing or able to give.

  “We’d have to actually like each other. Otherwise, we’d be smashing each other’s heads in before the week was out.”

  He smiled faintly, but his eyes were sharp.

  “Liking each other…” he murmured. “That’s complicated. It’s not just about liking, but preferences, actions, how we respond… And even then, I’m not convinced that ‘liking’ would get us far enough.”

  His words lingered in the air between us. I turned away, feeling an odd mixture of discomfort and reluctant curiosity at what he implied.

  “You’re going to make me love you?” I asked.

  The thought didn’t terrify me as much as it should have. In fact, considering it was the only way forward, I found myself strangely willing to accept it.

  “I already did,” he confessed with a calm certainty. “I just suppressed your feelings for me. But besides that, I didn′t do anything to you. You are what you always have been.”

  Everything clicked into place—his careful planning, his manipulations, the reason I had been losing again and again. He had anticipated every move, controlled every variable. But if he had been so successful up until now, why should I believe that would change? This was the only path, and it was precisely what we both needed.

  “Weirdo.”

  Despite everything, I couldn’t help but let a small smile creep onto my lips. The absurdity of the situation was almost endearing in a twisted way. I grabbed my pillow and flung it at his face, a playful jab that belied the seriousness between us.

  “I think I deserved that.”

  He chuckled softly, nodding in acknowledgment. I looked back at him, gathering the courage to speak again, but before I could, he lowered his book and met my gaze with a newfound resolve.

  “I don’t think there’s any need to drag this out further,” he said quietly. “Have you made up your mind?

  “Will I be free in the end?” I asked quietly, my voice barely more than a whisper, but laden with the weight of a thousand unspoken fears and hopes.

  The god looked at me with a calm, inscrutable expression. “Nobody will be able to manipulate you if we succeed. If that’s what you mean by freedom.”

  I shrugged, struggling to grasp the concept for myself. Freedom. What was it, really? I had never truly known it. Until now, my existence had been shaped by chains—visible or invisible—that bound me tighter than any prison walls. How could I define something I’d never truly experienced?

  “That’s good enough,” I murmured, the faintest flicker of hope warming my chest. “You’ll do whatever you want now… but under one condition.”

  I knew this was the only path forward—surrendering myself in some way, giving him space to work his will. Yet, I was determined not to lose the last fragments of myself without a fight, without ensuring whatever came after me had a fighting chance to be better.

  Rising from the bed, I walked deliberately toward the chair where he sat, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

  “And what would that condition be?” he asked, a slow smirk curling his lips, as if he already guessed what I was about to do. Meanwhile, my mind churned with hesitant, scattered thoughts—futile, but somehow grounding.

  I bent forward, steadying myself on the chair’s armrest, and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to his lips. My fingers traced the contours of his muscular sides, careful but lingering, as if mapping him like a secret I was only just beginning to understand.

  “You need to answer me a question…” I said quietly, voice steady despite the turmoil beneath. “Can you resist the temptations of your own flesh?”

  It was a rhetorical question, in some sense. I wouldn’t remember his answer anyway—memories soon to be erased like chalk beneath rain—but the point wasn’t remembrance. It was control. Leverage. I needed something, anything, to tilt the power even slightly in my favor. And so, I gambled.

  With a slow, deliberate motion, I settled myself on his lap, discarding what few reservations I had left. My body pressed against his, testing him, teasing him—not just in the physical sense, but probing for weakness. I leaned in and nipped playfully at his side, lips brushing against skin with the faintest of provocations.

  His expression didn’t change immediately, but the sharp glint in his eyes said everything.

  “Are you trying to honey trap me?” he asked, voice thick with amusement.

  I tilted my head, giving him a crooked smile. “You had two options available to you. But you created me as a girl… remember? That choice wasn’t random. It was instinct. A reflection of your own desires, whether you admit them or not.”

  His brows twitched slightly, though his composure remained intact. “I don’t believe your plan of ensnaring me will work,” he said. But the smirk he wore was edged with challenge. “Still… I’ll humor your request.”

  Before I could respond, he moved—swift and seamless. In one motion, he grabbed me by the waist and tossed me onto the bed like I weighed nothing.

  What followed was a fevered blur. A moment where reason fell away and instinct took over. He was methodical but unrestrained, as if he'd been waiting for permission he never thought he'd be given. I watched him, even as I yielded, never letting go of the smirk that had become my armor.

  It wasn’t just surrender—it was a transaction. A calculated trade. He got a taste of something he might possess in the future, and I claimed the smallest edge I could grasp in a game far too dangerous to play cleanly.

  And truth be told, I hadn’t expected to enjoy it. I thought it would be hollow—another form of manipulation, another layer of strategy. But somehow, in that intense collision of want and purpose, I found something thrilling. Not love. Not even affection. But a strange, electric exhilaration. Power, perhaps.

  I gave in, not just for him, but for me. For the leverage. For the game. For the future.

  And when it was over, I lay there—breathless, skin warm, mind strangely clear. I stared up at the ceiling, heart still racing but steady in my decision.

  It was time.

  “You can erase my memories now.”

  The words left my mouth without a tremble, clear and final. I was ready. I had made my choice, and for once, there was nothing left to fear. Regret did not weigh me down—only a strange clarity, like the final stillness before the plunge. I had held my memories close for so long, cherished them like a dying flame in an unforgiving storm. But now they felt distant, dim reflections of a version of myself I no longer believed in.

  They were fading already—smiling faces, fleeting joys, old scars. Echoes in a corridor I no longer walked.

  Erasing them wouldn’t erase me. The core of who I was—cold, calculating, unrepentant—had survived too much to be swept away with a few fragile recollections. That part of me was carved into the bone. They were who I am, but these memories weren′t.

  He laid still for a beat, as if the request surprised him. His eyes roamed over me, lingering just a second too long, caught somewhere between reverence and possession. A flicker of hesitation crossed his face—not out of mercy, but something deeper. A hunger restrained.

  But then, slowly, he nodded. “Alright…” he said, barely more than a breath. “Do you want to say any last words?”

  A small mercy from a creature not known for kindness. I considered it—offering some grand, tragic parting line to echo through the ages. Perhaps a noble sendoff, like That’s one small step for Lucinda, but a giant leap for vampirekind.

  It almost made me smile.

  But no. That wasn’t me. I didn’t need theatrics. I didn’t want them. I wanted to leave with the same sharp edge I had carried through every choice, every fight, every betrayal.

  “Yes.” I said simply.

  I let the silence hang for a beat, watching his smirk curl at the corners like smoke from a match just struck.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Darkness bloomed at the edges of my vision, slow and certain, like ink bleeding through water. It took everything with it—the room, the air, the tension between us—until only his face remained in that last sliver of awareness, his expression unreadable.

  And then… nothing.

  But even as the void swallowed me, I knew exactly what I had just done.

  With a single choice, I had wagered not only my soul, but the lives of everyone who had ever cared about me. The planet where my friends still breathed, still hoped, still fought to survive—I had offered it up on a bloodstained altar, to a god whose desires I barely understood. I had signed a pact that would ripple across realms, shaking foundations I had never seen. War would come—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but it was coming. And I had lit the match.

  I did it in the name of freedom—not just my own, but for others like me. Those silenced, shattered, buried in the shadows of someone else’s power. I had been their voice, their knife in the dark. And I would be again, even if I had to be reborn without memory, without past, without mercy.

  He and I were bound now. By purpose. By ambition. By necessity. Our paths twisted into one, a spiral of destruction and rebirth. Together, we would raze the world to its foundations. Or alone, depending on the path I took in the future.

  But that future would be paved with sacrifice.

  And yet, none of it terrified me.

  Because deep down, in the quiet place that memory could not touch, I had always known one truth:

  Everything had always been wrong.

  And now—finally—I was going to make it right.