A PURE SOUL : The innocent soul, pure and untainted, struggling to survive the darkness that seeks to consume her.
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HER TORMENER : The cold-blooded ruler whose heart beats only for her, his possession of her soul the only thing keeping his darkness at bay.
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THE DEVIL: The devil who craves to drag her into hell, burning her essence until nothing but his twisted shadow remains.
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Proluge:
The mansion loomed like a specter in the night, its gothic halls shrouded in an oppressive darkness. Azra's heart raced as she fled, her bloodied feet leaving a trail of red on the cold stone floor. She darted up the stairs, the taste of fear thick in her throat as she hid in the attic, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Below, he traced the blood she left behind, fingers slick with her life essence. He brought them to his lips, eyes closing as he savored the taste.
"Senorita," he hissed, voice dripping with malice. "Your blood... it's like a whisper from Hell, calling the devil in me to devour your soul."
He followed the trail, each step filled with dark anticipation. But when he reached the end, she was gone. A twisted smile curled his lips.
"You think you can hide from me, my Senorita? My darkness will consume you... there's no escape."
In the attic, Azra pressed into the shadows, but she knew it was futile. The door creaked open, and he was there-cold, relentless. His hand clamped over her mouth as his breath brushed her ear.
"You belong to me," he whispered, his voice a sinister caress. "I am your hell, your devil. Your soul is mine to destroy."
His laughter filled the attic, a sound that promised only torment and despair.
Three souls-one consumed by darkness, one shackled by desire, and one lost in the void-bound together in a dance of pain, longing, and eternal ruin.
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