The door slammed open, colliding with the stone wall with enough force to rattle the candle flames. Dimitri barely had time to process the intrusion before Abigail stumbled inside, her breath uneven, her pulse visible at the base of her throat.
She looked… wrecked.
Not simply shaken but unraveled.
The scent of the old corridors clung to her dust, damp stone, something colder, something wrong.
She hesitated in the doorway, stiff, as though her body had not yet caught up with her mind. Then, slowly, she turned, her movements too measured, too wary.
He watched.
Watched her chest heave, watched her fingers twitch as she curled them into her sleeves watched the way the space behind her did not feel empty.
Dimitri's jaw tightened.
Something had followed her.
His gaze flickered downward.
Red. Raw. Blistering.
The imprint not a scratch, not a bruise. Fingers. Clawed into her wrist like a brand.
His stomach dropped.
Cold. Not human.
His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, slow, deliberate, his eyes dark as he stepped forward.
"What the hell did you do?"
His voice was quiet, cold, edged with something dangerously close to fury.
Abigail opened her mouth, but nothing came.
She stepped further inside, pulse hammering, avoiding his gaze like she knew he recognized that mark.
Dimitri exhaled sharply, eyes flicking back to her wrist. "Do you even know what that means?"
The silence stretched.
"I don't—I didn't mean to go there," she said finally, voice strained, barely above a whisper.
"That doesn't matter," he cut in, stepping closer, his presence towering, sharp.
"What did you see?"
Abigail swallowed, trying to steady herself, but the memory was too raw, too immediate. "There were whispers. They called my name, Dimitri. I felt them wrap around me like—like they were deciding something. And then I saw…" she hesitated, her breath caught.
"A figure. It was watching me. It—"
Dimitri's expression shifted, the air in the room changing, thickening.
"And it touched you," he said, low, more statement than question.
Abigail didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Dimitri's fist clenched. "You shouldn't have been there."
"You think I don't know that?" she snapped suddenly, emotion cracking through her voice. "I didn't choose to go, Dimitri—I was drawn in."
She stepped forward, frustration burning behind her eyes. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. You think I wanted to be marked by something I can't even comprehend?"
Dimitri's jaw tensed, his own irritation flaring. "Then why didn't you turn back?"
"Because I was scared!" she shouted, words spilling out before she could stop them.
"I was scared of what might happen if I didn't!"
The silence crackled between them, thick with unspoken weight.
Dimitri's voice was low, restrained, but edged with something dangerously close to concern. "Your recklessness could have serious consequences, Abigail. This is not a game."
"I know that!" she snapped back, anger laced with something too raw, too vulnerable.
"But you treat me like I don't. Like I don't understand what's happening here. I'm not just another piece in whatever game you're playing, Dimitri. This is my life!"
His expression darkened, something unreadable flashing across his features.
He stepped closer, inches between them now. "And what do you think you're doing, Abigail? You're playing with forces you don't understand. You're putting yourself in harm's way, and I won't stand by and let that happen."
She met his gaze, unshaken, unwavering.
"I won't let you dictate my every move."
Dimitri held her stare, intensity burning in his eyes. Then, slowly, he turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"You need to get some rest," he said finally, voice sharper now, more controlled.
"The next part of trials are tomorrow".
Her heart dropped.
The air shifted not colder, but distant.
"So that's it?" she asked, voice quieter now, something uncertain edging into it. "You're just going to send me away? After what happened to me?"
His jaw tightened. His father's warning whispered through his thoughts, telling him not to get distracted.
But then another memory surfaced.
Not just a warning. A conversation.
His father had spoken about Abigail before.
Told him she was a problem. An anomaly.
Told him that she didn't belong here not truly.
That she was something to control, not protect.
Something about that never sat right with him.
He looked at her now shaken, but standing. Marked, but unwilling to fold.
His fingers curled into fists.
For a moment, he considered refusing.
Then he exhaled sharply.
"You can stay."
Her breath hitched as if she hadn't expected him to say it, as if she had already prepared herself for rejection.
Dimitri didn't move. Didn't take it back.
But he didn't soften either.
"You shouldn't have gone there, Abigail," he said quietly, looking at her fully now. "And whether you realize it or not… you won't leave unmarked."
She swallowed hard.
He wasn't just talking about her wrist.
She nodded once, stepping deeper into the room, her presence altering the space as the tension between them settled not gone, but quieter.
For the first time since fleeing the darkness… she felt a little safer.