Fighting Fate (Sylus x Mephisto)

9. Midnight Stealth

Previously

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I take a step back, feeling his careful gaze on me as I make my way toward the door. I open it, hesitating just for a heartbeat, half-expecting him to call me back, but he remains silent.

"Midnight on the dot, Mephisto," he warns, his voice steady yet layered with unsaid emotions, causing me to pause. My eyes dart to the clock in the corner of the room—only three hours remain. With a newfound determination, I walk out, resolved to create a mental barrier between Sylus and myself and one for my heart.

I have to remind myself to view him as merely a game character or as an old friend I'd known for ages. But as I step away, I can't help but feel the lingering tension, a thread connecting our fates that refuses to sever easily.

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I stared at the flickering digits of my phone clock, anxiety twisting in my gut as the seconds slipped away—only three minutes till midnight. The closer I approached his room the more my palms were sweating. Who was I kidding, like I could create a mental barrier in three measly hours. I paused outside his study, heart racing, when I spotted the Heroine lurking just ahead—her gun cocked and ready, poised between determination and despair as he opened the door.

"This time for sure, I'll..." she began, but Sylus' exasperated sigh cut her off.

"...I know. I'll go now." She says defeated before turning around and walking out his front door.

"I told you not to be late." He grins, closing the distance, and I look at my phone. It's only a minute past midnight.

"No, that's not fair she was here! She would have seen me!" I retorted, my hand instinctively raised in protest.

"That's not my problem," he shot back, a teasing glint in his eyes as he pulled me into his room. The fireplace crackled softly, flames dancing like whispers in the night, and as I stared into the mesmerizing glow, a nagging sense of something lost flickered just beyond my grasp, teasing me with the promise of forgotten truths. I feel like I'm forgetting something, something important but I can't seem to place my finger on it.

"Come here," he beckons, his arm outstretched like a lifeline, and I grasp his hand almost instinctively. In that heartbeat, time seems to suspend, an eerie déjà vu washing over me. This sort of moment makes me feel like this isn't the first time I've done this before, perhaps in another lifetime.

"When are you going to let her find the brooch?" I ask, feeling the surprising coolness of his hand against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth I had come to expect.

"Her and I had a deal, but you and I can make one as well," he replies, our gazes locking in a moment heavy with unspoken tension.

"What deal would you have me make?" I ask, my curiosity mingled with uncertainty, and after a brief pause, he considers.

"If you take the brooch from me first, you can come with me to the auction instead," he proposes, his fingers trailing a slow path up my arm, igniting a shiver of reluctant desire that dances down my spine.

"What if I don't want to go?" I challenge, my eyes dropping to the floor, but he draws me in closer. He tilts my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze that melts me. As his right eye begins to glow, a shadow of power flickers in the air between us. Suddenly, I hear it—a voice echoing in my mind, familiar yet distorted, sounding eerily like my own.

Sylus, please live.

You have to live!

Don't let her devour you!