BLEEDING VELVET

The silence between Almond and Aren wasn't peace.

It was the kind of silence that screamed louder than war drums—the kind that only existed when two people had said too much, and nothing at all.

They were back in the ruins of what used to be a sanctuary. Velda's old safehouse, cracked open like a ribcage, bleeding old memories and spells gone stale. The smell of dust and dried herbs still clung to the walls.

Almond sat cross-legged on a stained mattress, eyes closed. Her fingers danced along the floor, tracing old sigils she didn't remember learning.

Aren stood at the doorway, shirtless, bruised, half-demon, half-boy, fully hers.

"You're quiet," he said eventually.

"I'm listening."

"To what?"

She opened her eyes slowly, like she was waking from something deep and dangerous.

"The magic. The house. You."

He shifted. "And what do we sound like?"

"You? You sound like thunder trying to apologize."

His jaw clenched. "And the magic?"

She tilted her head. "Like it's preparing for war."

Aren moved toward her but didn't sit. He hovered like he didn't know if he was allowed close anymore.

"There's a name I haven't said in a long time," he murmured. "But you need to hear it. Before we move forward."

Almond's eyes flickered with something cold. "Say it."

"Eryx."

The name struck her like a lash. Not because she knew it—but because of the way the room responded. The candles blew out. The air went cold.

"Who is he?" she asked, voice low.

"My twin," Aren said. "The real monster."

Almond stared.

"And let me guess," she said slowly. "He's the one coming for us now?"

Aren nodded. "Not coming. Watching. He's already inside the cracks."

Almond rose slowly, her bare feet making no sound on the broken tiles. She walked past Aren, brushing his shoulder like she was testing if he was still real.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked.

"Because saying his name makes him stronger," Aren said. "And because I didn't want you to look at me like you're looking now."

Almond turned to him. Her eyes weren't angry.

They were ancient.

"You think I can't handle darkness?" she whispered. "Aren, I was born inside it."

For a moment, something unspoken passed between them. The kind of understanding that only happens when two people know each other's monsters by name.

She moved closer, until her breath touched his lips.

"Tell me one thing," she said. "If Eryx is the real monster… what does that make you?"

Aren didn't blink. "The mistake."

Almond smiled. Not a soft smile. Not a kind one. A smile with teeth.

"Then let's be mistakes together."

And just like that, the room shifted. The wards hummed. The sigils she traced began to glow faintly.

They were no longer running from the darkness.

They were preparing to meet it head-on.

Outside, the wind howled as if mourning something not yet dead. The candles flickered again, but Almond didn't flinch this time. She was starting to understand—fear didn't vanish; it just got quieter when the mind made room for rage.

She turned her face to Aren. "I want to see him."

Aren's jaw clenched. "No."

"I said I want to see him."

"I heard you, Almond," he snapped, voice low but sharp. "You don't know what you're asking. You think you're ready, but Eryx—he's not like the shadows you've fought. He is the shadow. The origin. The hunger that taught the others how to starve."

Almond stepped closer, voice calm, tone deadly. "He took Velda. He used your body. He thinks I'm some delicate puppet. He thinks you are just a shell."

A pause. She lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, feeling the thunder beneath his ribs.

"I want him to see me coming."

Aren looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Not as a girl touched by tragedy, but as a woman sculpted by vengeance.

"…What if I lose control again?" he whispered.

She leaned in. "Then I'll pull you back. And if I can't, I'll burn us both."

It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.