Smoke coiled and slithered through the wreckage of the Roaring Dragon Casino, thick as oil, clinging to the bodies like it didn’t want to let go. The air reeked—burning flesh, molten metal, the bitter sting of gunpowder.

The bodies lay in smoldering heaps.

Some still twitched. Dying slow. I stood in the center of it all. Panting. Trembling.

Zara’s flames guttered, choking out against the wind. The Resistance warriors stood paralyzed—

Not by battle. Not by fear. By them.

Adam and Eve.

They loomed above us from the second-floor balcony, untouched. Untouched by the chaos. Untouched by the blood. Eve leaned lazily against the railing, fingers ghosting over Adam’s chest, her smirk indulgent.

“She’s lasted longer than the others.”

A lazy chuckle.

“How much longer do you think she'll fight?”

Adam’s gaze never left me.

Unblinking. Measuring. A craftsman searching for the flaw in his creation.

Then—he exhaled. Low. Slow. Unbothered. Like he’d just come to a decision.

"Long enough."

Adam’s hand lifted. Fingers flexed—deliberate. Controlled.

The air caved in.

A force crashed into me—sudden, absolute.

Invisible hands clamped around my ribs, my arms, my legs.

Lifting. Crushing. Commanding.

I fought to move.

Nothing.

I fought to breathe.

Nothing.

Zara’s voice split the air. Sharp. Panicked.

“Mari—!”

She never got to finish.

The moment she moved—the unseen force grabbed her.

Ripped her away.

She shot backward, flung like a broken doll.

CRACK.

Concrete buckled under her body.

The Resistance reacted.

Weapons snapped upward—barrels locking onto Adam.

Korna’s voice sliced through the air, raw and urgent.

“STOP HIM! STOP HIM!”

A tremor in her voice. A crack in her composure.

"IF HE TAKES HER, THE PROPHECY IS FULFILLED!"

"SHE CANNOT FALL INTO THEIR HANDS!"

The warriors didn’t hesitate.

Fingers on triggers. Weapons aimed. Death coming for him.

Click.

The barrels turned.

Not sideways. Not downward.

Upward.

Too smooth. Too fast. Too perfect.

Korna’s breath hitched.

A fraction of a second. A brief, impossible moment.

Then—The gunfire erupted.

CRACK.

BANG.

Bullets tore through their skulls.

Some gasped as the shots ripped their throats open—bodies twitching, fingers still clutching their weapons. Others didn’t even get the chance to scream.

Their own hands had done it too fast. Too precise.

Bodies collapsed in unison. Like marionettes with their strings cut.

Korna staggered. Blood sprayed across her face. Her breath shuddered, her throat clenching like she wanted to scream—but couldn’t.

Eve giggled. A delighted, breathless sound.

Her fingers trailed over the blindfold covering her golden eyes.

"How noisy."

Her voice didn’t cut through the air.

It rewrote it. The battlefield obeyed. Silence fell. The dying warriors locked mid-collapse, their final moments frozen in place. The ones still standing—trapped in their own bodies. Their hands still gripping their weapons. Their mouths still parted, trying to scream.

But no sound came.

No movement.

Just silence.

Adam sighed. Indifferent. Detached.

“They’re like ants, Eve.”

His golden eyes flicked over the battlefield.

“They never know when to stop scurrying.”

Eve sighed, stepping closer to the balcony’s edge, her golden hair gleaming beneath the firelight.

“It’s adorable, in a way.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm, admiring the carnage below.

“How they struggle. How they break. And yet—still they try.”

Adam barely acknowledged her. He exhaled, quiet, measured.

“Fascinating, but pointless.”

Then—

A crack split through my skull. Not a sound. A sensation. Like invisible fingers slipping into my ribs—prying them apart, curling around something deeper. Something inside me. A wretched, twisting pull—cold hands sliding beneath my skin, searching, sifting, taking.

I gasped. Nothing came.

My body convulsed, a helpless tremor running through my muscles. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The Whisper shrieked. At first, it was only in my head. A noise meant only for me. Then—it leaked into the air.

A horrible, layered wail. Guttural. Wet. It didn’t sound like a voice. It sounded like a hundred mouths screaming at once.

Adam showed no reaction. His golden eyes gleamed, his fingers flexing as if tightening his grip around something that wasn’t there.

Something inside me.

“Curious.” His voice was soft. Unbothered.

"This filth should have been eradicated. You weren’t supposed to have this.”

Another pull.

Harder.

The Whisper convulsed, twisted, spasmed inside me.

“Host—

Queen—

D̵O̷N̴'̷T̴ ̷L̸E̸T̸ ̷H̴I̷M̷ ̷T̵A̷K̴E̷ ̷U̵S̴—̷”

A sharp, wet tear cracked through my skull. My body arched, limbs jerking violently. My bones—felt hollow. Like they weren’t mine anymore. Like something was about to be peeled away.

Eve shivered. She leaned into Adam’s shoulder, pressing her body against his, fingers dragging across his collar. Excited.

“Oh, my love…” Her breath was light, reverent.

“Look at her.”

She ran her tongue over her lips, eyes hooded beneath her blindfold.

“She’s unraveling so beautifully.”

Her voice was light. Gentle. Like a mother watching her child slip beneath the waves.

Adam didn’t acknowledge her.

“This will be corrected.”

His fingers clenched into a fist. The Hands of God tightened. The force snapped around me—unbreakable, inescapable. A cage made of divinity. The Whisper screamed. Not in rage.

In terror.

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It thrashed, desperate, a parasite being torn from its host. My vision blurred. I felt myself—splitting. I wasn’t whole anymore. I felt myself unraveling—the parasite and I, two things tearing apart, neither willing to let go. The Whisper howled inside me, clawing at my ribs, thrashing like a caged animal, desperate, starving, dying. And then— Eve let out a soft, breathy laugh.

"How fascinating…" She stretched like a cat, arms draping around Adam’s shoulders, pressing against him with a lazy, indulgent hum.

"The parasite fears you, Adam." Adam lowered his hand. I dropped.

HARD.

Pain detonated through me. My knees hit shattered stone, the impact rattling through my bones, a sharp crack snapping up my spine. I gasped. The air tasted like dust. Like blood. I pressed my trembling hands into the rubble, fingers clawing for something solid. Something real. The Whisper was still inside me. I had held on. I had not let him take it. Adam watched. Unshaken. Unbothered. Unmoved.

Eve sighed, rolling her eyes.

"How boring." She tilted her head, dragging her fingers across Adam’s collar, tracing slow, idle patterns. "You should’ve just ripped it out. Why do you insist on playing with these little insects?"

Adam ignored her. His golden gaze bore into me—cold, indifferent. A thing beyond humanity looking at something lesser.

“I see now.” His voice was calm. Almost pleased.

"That wretched thing inside you—it clings like a parasite. A pathetic, desperate creature."

A pause. A long, measured silence.

"How amusing."

He exhaled, almost disappointed.

"It knows what I am." A flick of his fingers. A twitch. A subtle command.

The Hands of God took me again. I gasped, my body snatched from the rubble, weightless, suspended. And then—I felt it.

Heat.

Zara.

A breath. A movement. A rising inferno. She never stopped. Flames erupted around her, blue fire igniting like a dying star’s final breath. She lunged. Straight for Adam. But she never reached him. Her body froze. Mid-air. Arms outstretched. Fire still burning. And then—snuffed out.

The Hands of God had her now. Adam barely acknowledged her. Didn’t even glance at her. His voice—low, absolute, carved into the bones of the world.

"Ungrateful little wretch."

A chill sank into my spine. Something about the way he said it—the weight in his voice, the certainty—it dug into me, curling into something cold and dangerous.

Zara flinched.

Zara. Flinched.

I had never seen that before. Not once. Adam exhaled, slow, deliberate. Like this wasn’t even worth his breath. Like speaking to her was beneath him.

“Did you forget what you are?”

Zara’s entire body locked up. Adam tilted his head—his golden gaze dragging over her like she was something beneath him. Something small. Something insignificant.

"You were never meant to stand beside her.

You were never meant to stand at all."

The words slammed into me harder than the Hands of God.

What?

Zara clenched her jaw. Didn’t speak. But her hands trembled. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts. She was afraid. Adam sighed. Almost bored.

“And yet, you burn for her.”

Zara lurched forward, choking on nothing. A sharp, gasping breath—cut short. Her limbs spasmed. Convulsed. She clawed at her throat. But there was nothing there. Nothing but his will.

"STOP—!" My scream ripped out of me, raw, broken.

I thrashed. Useless. Helpless. Nothing. Zara’s fingers twitched. Her nails dug into her own skin, scratching, tearing—trying to rip something away that wasn’t there. Adam didn’t blink. Didn’t care.

"How foolish."

His fingers curled. Zara’s body arched—lifted into the air like a puppet on tangled strings. Her flames flickered. Then—snuffed out. A sharp inhale from me.

No, no, no—

The air around us shook. Adam exhaled. Like he was correcting a misbehaving dog.

"How disappointing."

A flick of his wrist.

CRACK.

Zara’s body slammed into the ground. Too hard. Too much. The stone beneath her caved inward, fracturing on impact. A strangled sound broke from my throat.

"ZARA—!"

She didn’t move. I tried to lunge forward—tried to, tried to, tried to— The Hands of God kept me locked in place.

Adam barely acknowledged her anymore. Like she no longer existed. Like she had never mattered. He sighed. A regretful, distant exhale.

"Remember your place."

His golden eyes flicked toward me. I swallowed, chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow. Something felt wrong. Something felt very, very wrong. Zara wasn’t moving. Adam’s words twisted inside my skull. Digging deep. Planting doubt where there shouldn’t be any.

What did he mean?

What was she hiding?

I felt something in my own chest snap. Like I’d been the one thrown. Like I’d been the one crushed. The air was too thin. My vision blurred. My body strained against an invisible force that refused to let me go. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. But I could scream.

And I did.

I screamed until my throat burned, until my voice cracked, until the only thing left was raw, broken sound—something shredded and animalistic, something barely human.

A breathy moan slipped from Eve’s lips.

"Yes... yes... oh, Mari, scream for me again.”

I gasped, twisting against the invisible force that held me, every nerve thrumming with agony. It wasn’t just the pain—it was the helplessness, the complete and utter loss of control.

Her fingers trailed over her own collarbone, slow, reverent. She shuddered, her golden hair cascading down her back as she arched against Adam’s chest, tracing lazy, indulgent circles along his ribs.

She exhaled, a slow, trembling sigh.

"Such a divine voice," she purred, her hands drifting lower. "Sing for me, my sweet. Let me hear your suffering."

I thrashed.

Something inside me buckled. Cracked. Frayed apart.

Eve giggled. A delighted, breathless sound.

"Look at her." She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, tilting her head as if admiring a work of art. "Helpless. Lost. Desperate."

She inhaled sharply, dragging the sensation through her lungs like she could breathe in my suffering.

"Oh, Mari…" Her voice trembled with pleasure. "Such beautiful sounds."

She cupped her own face, nails digging into her cheeks, eyes fluttering beneath the blindfold. "Mari, my precious little girl, you make the most beautiful sounds."

I convulsed. Tried to break free. Tried to shut her out. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop it. I screamed again—hoarse, raw, stripped of anything human.

Eve shivered.

"Mmm… yes. Again, again—"

Adam sighed.

Disappointed. Like I was taking too long to break.

"We should take her now."

Eve’s nails raked down Adam’s chest, dragging slow, red lines against his pristine skin. Her body shook, her lips parting with a need deeper than hunger.

"No, no—not yet. Let her cry a little longer," she whispered, almost breathless. "I want to feel it. I want to drink it in."

Adam ignored her. His fingers curled. And I was taken.

The force collapsed around me. Folding. Crushing. Ripping. My limbs snapped inward, my body twisting violently like a puppet wrenched by its strings. My vision fractured, black spots devouring the edges of my sight. My own body wasn’t mine anymore.

I saw her.

Zara.

Broken in the rubble.

Korna.

Suspended in place, her body locked in a twisted moment of defiance. The Resistance—unable to stop it. No one could stop it. Eve whimpered. She rocked against Adam, her breath ragged, a blissful smile curling her lips.

"Oh, my love, this is what we were meant for. Look at her."

Adam’s golden eyes gleamed.

"You will serve a purpose far greater than you know."

I could barely see through the haze swallowing me whole. But then—Zara’s fingers twitched. A weak, barely-there motion. My heart lurched.

But before I could reach for her—

Before I could even hope—

Nothing.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

----------------------------------------

I jerked awake. Cold steel bit into my wrists. I was strapped down.

Arms. Legs. Neck. Caged.

The air was thick with sterility. That sharp, artificial sting of chemicals and bleach clung to my skin. The hum of machines pulsed in the silence—precise. Steady. Like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. Not the casino. Not anywhere familiar. I tried to move.

Nothing.

The restraints held. Too tight. Too perfect. Too absolute. The Whisper stirred. Weak. Faint. Strangled. Something was smothering it. Something was smothering me.

And then—A voice.

Silky. Sweet.

A sound that slithered beneath my skin, threading through my bones like warm breath against an open wound.

"Now, my dear…"

Footsteps. Soft. Purposeful. Unrushed. I saw her reflection first.

Eve.

Golden-haired. Barefoot. Blindfolded. Pristine. She didn’t need to see me. She already knew. Her lips curled into a smile. Slow. Unhurried. Measured. Like a predator admiring a struggling animal before the final bite. Her nails tapped against the tray beside me.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound burrowed under my skin.

"I’ve been looking forward to this."

She reached for a scalpel. Turned it. Admired it.

The blade caught the light—thin, delicate. Precise. Her other hand drifted over the tray, fingertips gliding across the gleaming metal instruments laid out before her. Rows of them. Too many. Too sharp. Too clean. She didn’t rush. She took her time. Selecting. Rejecting. Savoring. Like a woman choosing the perfect wine for the perfect meal. Her meal.

Me.

I stiffened. She noticed. Her fingers ghosted down my arm, featherlight. She sighed, pleased.

"Do you know what I love, Mari?"

She leaned in. Close. Her breath was warm against my cheek. The scalpel danced down my spine. Barely a touch. I shuddered. Eve shivered.

"Pain speaks," she whispered.

She pressed the scalpel down. I gasped. She inhaled. Slow. Deliberate.

"A sharp inhale at first."

The blade sank in. A thin line of fire bloomed across my skin. I gritted my teeth. Eve hummed, thoughtful.

"Then a stuttered breath—caught between restraint and surrender."

Her fingers tangled in my hair, twisting gently. Not yanking. Just reminding me how helpless I was.

"You wouldn’t want to ruin this moment, would you?"

I met her gaze in the mirror. Or rather, the blindfold that hid her golden eyes. She smiled.

Then—She cut deeper. Pain exploded through me. My body convulsed. I bit down a scream. Eve inhaled, slow, deliberate.

"There it is."

She dragged the scalpel lower. Slow. Loving. Precise.

She wasn’t rushing.

She was savoring.

Me.

Every twitch. Every tremble.

I gasped, struggling against the restraints. Flesh split. Warmth dripped down my back.

Eve sighed.

She stepped back, tilting her head, as if appraising a painting.

"Let’s open you up, shall we?"

She reached for the clamps. Cold steel met torn flesh.

The first crank.

A wet, unnatural pull. My skin peeled apart. I screamed. Eve shuddered. She turned the crank again. Wider.

"More."

My spine ached. My nerves blazed. The pain burned through me, raw and unbearable. She let out a breath. Quiet. Pleased. Her fingers traced my exposed flesh, pressing into the torn muscle.

"Curious."

Her voice remained level. Clinical.

"The way the body resists. The way it fights."

I couldn’t breathe. She dragged her fingers down my spine.

"I wonder what sound you’ll make when I touch here—"

Her fingers wrapped around something. Something inside me. The Whisper howled. Eve paused.

Then—She laughed. Low. Breathless. Almost euphoric.

"Ah… so this is what he wanted."