Lyra
The rancid, sulfurous stench that clogged the battlefield like a curse grew sharper behind me. I jerked in alarm instantly—an enemy. But before I could move, a sword plunged into my back. It crushed past my spine, and in one forceful push from behind, I watched the long steel dug out of my stomach. Its silvery length gleamed under the bright night sky.
Death was here again. I had tried every possible means to avoid him this lifetime, and yet, he was here again. Taking me for the 177th time. Like always, I couldn't stop him. I am his prisoner, and he is my warden.
I screamed, loud guttural moans of pain tearing out of my throat, as an excruciating agony wracked the whole of me, sending waves of spasms rippling through every vein. I shivered as I dropped slowly to my knees, my sword slipping from my numb fingers.
I gurgled and coughed, choking on my own blood as it gathered in my throat, raising a coppery taste on my tongue.
I had avoided Zarek since the battle began. How could this happen?—my thought froze for a moment. Somehow, it didn't seem like Zarek. The rancid, sulfurous stench from behind me smelled nothing like him. Smelled nothing like the agent of death that has always come to claim me for its master.
My eyes, red with blood and quivering with the same pain that consumed every inch of me, trailed over the chaotic sea of bodies, grunts, and clashing steel until I found Zarek.
I let my painful jaw relax into a wry smile. My facial muscles throbbed with pain, but I bit hard on my lower lip to keep back the pain. I kept smiling, relishing this moment. I was right. He didn't get to kill me this time.
Zarek stood over a mound of corpses, blood dripping like a cruel fountain down the steel length of his sword. His jaw clenched tight as his crimson eyes found me amidst the chaos on the battlefield. They locked on me, burning harder, like sparks of fire in his head.
He frowned, his jaw tightening harder as he stared at the sword sticking out of me. He had always wanted to be the one to deliver the final blow. The one to twist the sword in my heart while watching me endure his carefully curated agony.
But death didn't give him that satisfaction this time. He raised his head to the night sky, the silvery glow of the crescent moon bathing his face. He growled, a loud, animalistic growl so intense it tore through the whole battlefield, and I felt the dark, sandy soil of the underground tremble under my knees. In that moment, every fight stopped, and the noises of steel dulled, as did the groans and cries of battling.
Then a voice tore through the growl—Draziel. The man I loved. "Lyra!" he screamed my name so loud and hard I could feel the pain in his voice.
The sharp whistle of a blade stung the air behind me, followed by a loud, wet thud. The demon that had stabbed me dropped beside me, leaving its sword still sticking out of my stomach.
Draziel knelt beside me, wrapping my petite body in his massive arms, shielding me in them as if another demon would dare stab me again while I was in his arms.
His crimson eyes, hardened with the cruelty of an underworld king, were softer now, smeared with unshed tears.
But the demon king mustn't cry, not even while watching the woman he loved die for the 177th time.
"Don't die on me, Lyra," he begged, his chin trembling from the weight of his emotions. "Survive this time. Even if just this once."
I wanted to tell him that I wouldn't leave him. But it was a lie. This chapter of our lives—like so many before—would end with my death. I could already feel Death's cold tendrils curling around me, pulling me down into its shadowy depths.
"I'll be back, Draziel." I whispered, my voice trembling as blood pooled on my lips. "You know that. I'll be back, and I'll always remember you."
My words didn't seem to soothe him. The forbidden tear dropped, a lonely, careless strand, cascading down his cheek, causing a snag in my heart that hurt deeper than death.
"But I'll have to wait again," he said. "Years, Lyra. Decades. Perhaps centuries. I'll have to search the whole universe for you all over again, hoping—praying—that I find you before it's too late. Why can't we be together?"
Why? I had no answer, only the bitter truth that this was our curse. Others call it fate, but I call it a curse. A cruel curse that had us forever shackled to its cruelty.
"Maybe you'll find me faster this time," I whispered, trying to offer hope. It was the only thing I could afford right now. Hope.
I reached up to touch his face, my hand shaking violently, my strength waning with every passing second.
My fingers brushed the rough stubble along his V-shaped jaw. The planes of his face were harsher than before. His once-perfect features, now hardened by centuries of sorrow and despair.
He was no longer the dangerously handsome demon king I'd fallen in love with lifetimes ago. He was a shadow of that man.
He took my hand from his jaw and covered it in his hard, calloused ones, holding on tight as if, if he let go, I'd slip away faster than the wind.
"You don't know that," he said, his voice shaking. "Even if I find you, I'll still have to wait for you to grow up, to become you again. Do you know how many years I have been without you, Lyra?"
"You can always go to the past," I said softly, my breaths coming in shallow gasps now. I bit my lips hard, fighting off the intense pain consuming me. "Or maybe this time… you can try the future."
He had gone back in time numerous times, using his ability to time-travel to relive moments of my past lives, searching for ways to change our fate. But he'd never ventured to the future. He's always scared of what he might find—the stark reality that this curse had no happy ending for us.
I tried to fight it, but death was relentless. I coughed violently, long, hard coughs drawn from the bowels of my lungs. I convulsed in his arms as blood spilled from my lips onto his dark armor.
"I am sorry, Draziel." I whispered, the cold hands of death already reaching deeper for my soul.
"No. No! Lyra, don't go. Please!" His voice rose in anguish, but it was fading, distant and hollow.
Death claimed me once again, pulling me into the black abyss where I would wait to be reborn.
But this time… something was different.
The familiar cage of death's domain didn't come. There was no comforting void, no sense of being lifted into another life. Instead, I woke back in a dimly lit bar that looked drearier than anywhere I had ever been.
The smell of stale beer and smoke hung heavy in the air. My hand clutched a damp cloth, and I blinked down at the table I was cleaning, its surface sticky with old stains.
The walls were cracked and worn, telling the story of grime, fights, and sex. The men around me leered with dark, lethargic eyes that made my skin crawl.
I looked down at myself. Same body, same face as always. This wasn't a rebirth. This was… reincarnation. My heart raced, thrashing harshly in my ears. What in hell had happened?
The door burst open with a thunderous crash, and I spun around, my breath catching in my throat—Draziel. His towering frame filled the doorway, his crimson eyes blazing, the fiery embers burning as they found me.
He was still dressed in his armor, just as I had last seen him. His sword dangled beside him, the steel body still covered in the blood of his enemies.
The bar erupted into chaos at the sight of him and his sword—screams, shouts, the scraping of chairs against the floor—but he ignored them all, his gaze locked on me.
He strode down the aisle to me. The golden flecks of his eyes sharpened as they narrowed on my uniform, a dress so short it barely covered my thighs. His lips curled in disgust. "You shouldn't be wearing that, Lyra. It exposes your legs."
"What did you do, Draziel?" I demanded, my voice steady despite the storm raging in my chest. This wasn't all some coincidence. He had done something.
Yes. I had always retained memories of my past lives, but I had never been reincarnated before. I was always reborn.
"Nothing. All you need to know is that you will never die again, Lyra," he assured, pulling off his armor. He threw it to the floor and removed his robe for me. I stepped away from his reach before he could wear it over me.
I had loved him for over 176 lifetimes—177, if this one counted—and I knew when he was hiding something. I could read him like a book.
He let out a low grunt. "Come on, Lyra. Let's get out of here," he said, the noise in the hall swallowing up his words.
He turned to the bar now, his crimson orbs burning like fire. He growled, a loud rumbling sound that sent shivers down the spines of mortals.
I have heard it millions of times for it to have that effect on me, but it reminded me again, like always, that my eternal boyfriend was the demon king.
Instantly, the entire hall went silent. Those bold or drunk enough returned to their drinks, and those that were not scampered out of the bar, like little demons at the sight of the devil.
"Let's go, Lyra," he repeated, his tone low and final.
I stared at him, my chest heaving silently. "I am not, until you tell me what you did."
He exhaled slowly, his expression hardening. "I made a deal with Zarek," he said.
The words hit me like a blow. My breath caught that moment, as my lungs grew heavy as lead inside of me. A deal with Zarek was always bad news. Zarek was his brother, but he was also our eternal enemy, the demon prince who had dedicated his immortal life to making sure we were never happy. "What deal?"
"You don't need to know, Lyra. Just know you are free from this curse now. It's now my life on the line, instead of yours."