Written for
and her fiction gift exchange. Merry Christmas Emily!The sun dipped low, gilding the waves with molten gold. Calista moved along the shore, her wicker basket heavy with sea glass—fragments of beauty born from ruin. Her hands sifted the sand, her search steady, rhythmic, and soothing, until her fingers stilled.
A shard of ivory glass rested there, etched with a delicate image: a man and a woman, their faces close, nearly touching but eternally apart. Her chest tightened. The loneliness that lived within her, sharp and hollow, rose to meet her like a tide, a longing so deep she thought it might drown her.
Memories stirred, fragile as the shard in her palm. Her mother’s voice echoed through time: “You must never leave the island. Promise me. If you do, you will surely die.” The warning was clear, yet her mother’s features—haloed in golden light—remained blurred, dreamlike. The island was a cage, beautiful but inescapable, where her days stretched endlessly and the nights whispered of what lay beyond the horizon.
The shard trembled in her hand as she turned back toward her house, burdened by thoughts too heavy to name. But then, a dark shape in the shallows caught her eye. Abandoning her basket, she ran to the waves, her heart quickening.
It wasn’t driftwood. It was a woman.
Tall and striking, her dark hair tangled with seaweed, the stranger lay half-submerged, her beauty breathtaking yet lifeless. Panic rose in Calista as she dropped to her knees, her mind scrambling for something useful but falling short. She rolled the woman onto her side and, with trembling hands, smacked her back.
A cough. A ragged gasp. The stranger sputtered to life, her amber eyes vivid and piercing as they locked onto Calista. Relief flooded her, nearly bringing her to tears. “You’re alive,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m Calista. You’re safe now.”
The woman didn’t reply, her breaths shallow, but her gaze seemed almost… knowing. Calista helped her to her feet, their steps slow and heavy as they made their way back to the house.
The next day dawned brighter than any Calista could remember, the golden light spilling through her windows like liquid warmth. She found the stranger seated by the window, her dark hair molten in the sunlight, her sharp features softened by the morning glow.
The silence between them stretched, comfortable yet taut, until the stranger finally spoke. “My name is Serapha,” she said, her voice rich and haunting, carrying a weight that made the simple introduction feel like the opening of a story yet to be told.
Calista blinked, startled by the musical quality of her tone. “Serapha,” she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “It’s… beautiful.”
Serapha smiled, a faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips. “Thank you. And thank you for saving me.”
Calista flushed, unsure how to respond. She waved her hand awkwardly. “It wasn’t much. I couldn’t just leave you there.”
“No,” Serapha agreed, her gaze steady, her smile deepening slightly. “You couldn’t.”
The intensity of her stare sent a flutter through Calista’s chest, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Would you like to see the island?” she asked, her voice a little too bright, trying to dispel the strange tension building between them. “There’s not much to it, but… it’s my home.”
Serapha nodded, rising with an elegance that made Calista’s breath catch. “Lead the way.”
They wandered the beach first, Calista pointing out the hidden coves and tide pools she’d explored countless times alone. Yet somehow, with Serapha beside her, everything felt different—new. Serapha listened intently, her gaze sharp and observant, as if she were cataloging every detail Calista offered.
“Do you always walk this much?” Serapha teased as they climbed a rocky hill overlooking the sea. Her tone was light, but her smile—a real smile this time—lit her face like fire catching on kindling.
Calista laughed, the sound startling even herself. It had been so long since she’d laughed like that. “I suppose I do,” she said, glancing back at Serapha, whose effortless grace made her feel clumsy in comparison. “There’s not much else to do here.”
Serapha hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps that’s why you notice so much.”
They reached the crest of the hill, where wildflowers danced in the sea breeze. Calista turned to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Serapha stood with her back to the sun, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her face tilted to the sky. She looked almost otherworldly, her beauty sharpened by the light, as if she belonged more to the heavens than the earth.
“You’ve lived here alone?” Serapha asked suddenly, her voice soft, breaking the spell.
Calista nodded, tearing her gaze away. “Always,” she murmured. “My mother left when I was young. She said it was for my protection. That if I left the island…” She hesitated, the old warning rising unbidden in her mind. “I’d die.”
Serapha turned to her, studying her carefully. “And do you believe that?”
“I don’t know,” Calista admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to find out.”
Serapha said nothing for a moment, her gaze drifting back to the horizon. “Loneliness is a cage,” she said finally, her words soft but pointed. “Even if a beautiful one.”
Calista’s heart ached at the truth in her words. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she reached down and plucked a wildflower, its petals a delicate shade of violet. She handed it to Serapha, her fingers brushing against the other woman’s for the briefest moment.
Serapha accepted the flower with a faint smile, twirling it between her fingers. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentler now.
By the time they returned to the house, the sun was low, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. Their laughter echoed between the walls as they prepared a simple dinner together, Calista marveling at how easily Serapha fit into her quiet world.
For the first time, the weight in Calista’s chest was gone. In its place was a warmth that spread through her like the sunlight still lingering on the horizon.
As they sat by the fire that evening, their conversation drifting from idle musings to shared stories, Calista caught herself watching Serapha, her heart thudding softly. She felt the beginnings of something she hadn’t dared to name in years—something fragile and new, glowing and full.
But as night fell, a storm rolled in. Thunder cracked, and Calista shivered. She had always feared storms, but this one felt different. The candles flickered wildly, and Serapha—so warm and kind by day—now seemed distant, strange. Her eyes, in the flickering light, flashed red. Her shadow stretched and twisted unnaturally, crawling across the walls like a thing alive.
Desperate to banish her fear, Calista asked, “Will you play cards with me?”
Serapha agreed, her smile faint and knowing. But as they played, the unease in Calista’s chest grew. Her hands shook; the cards fell from her grip. A lightning flash lit the room, and when Calista leaned to retrieve a fallen card, she froze.
Serapha’s feet ended not in toes, but in cloven hooves.
Calista recoiled in fright. Her eyes locked with Serapha’s as realisation dawned on her. Her voice was sharp with accusation as she gaped. “You’re a devil!”
Serapha didn’t flinch. She smiled, serene and unbothered. “Yes,” she said simply, her tone as casual as if admitting to her name.
Calista stared, her fear giving way to curiosity. “Why… why were you in the ocean?”
“I was struck down by an enemy,” Serapha replied. “Left to drown. But you saved me.” She leaned closer, her voice dipping low. “And because of that, I owe you a wish.”
A wish. Calista’s heart thundered. Her lips parted, the words spilling from her before she could stop them. “Stay with me. Forever.”
For a moment, the room fell silent, save for the storm raging outside. Then, in a burst of lightning, Serapha was upon her. Calista lay on the floor, pinned beneath the devil.
Serapha’s eyes burned red; black horns spiraled from her head. Her lips parted to reveal sharp teeth, and a forked tongue flicked over her top lip, hungry and deliberate. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” she purred. “A devil for a life companion?”
Calista’s voice trembled, but her words did not waver. “I do.”
Serapha laughed as she sat back, the sound low and melodic, and her monstrous features faded. “Very well,” she said, her grin sly. “The deal is struck.”
Calista’s heart raced as she got up and fled to her bedroom, the memory of Serapha’s smile lingering. Behind her closed door, she exhaled, her face flushed with exhilaration. For the first time in years, the loneliness was gone.
Her life was no longer empty. Whatever the cost, she would not face the world alone.
Dawn broke soft and golden, though clouds still hung heavy, threatening more rain. The air was thick with the stillness of the sea, and for a fleeting moment, Calista felt peace. She rose quietly, her thoughts lingering on the night before, the words “The deal is struck” still echoing in her mind.
But the peace was a lie.
The stillness shattered with a roar like splitting stone, the air itself vibrating with menace. The door slammed open, and the scent of sulfur flooded the room. Figures loomed in the threshold—grotesque and towering, their forms shifting between flesh and shadow.
Calista froze at the threshold of her room, her breath caught in her throat as their voices, low and guttural, filled the air.
“Serapha,” one hissed, its eyes burning like twin coals. “You cannot hide here. The throne awaits.”
Serapha appeared next to her, as calm as the sea before a storm. “I wasn’t hiding,” she replied, her voice sharp with mockery. “And I do not answer to you.”
The demons snarled, their shadows twisting along the walls like living things. “The war rages, Serapha. Hell needs its queen. Or do you mean to abandon your claim?”
Calista turned to Serapha, her chest tight with panic. “You promised,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You promised to stay with me. Forever.”
Serapha hesitated. Her gaze softened as she looked at Calista, her sharp features framed by the growing glow of the demons’ wrath. But the hesitation was brief.
With a smile that did not reach her eyes, Serapha stepped forward. “Forever,” she repeated, her voice steady. “I don’t break my promises.”
And then the air exploded into chaos.
Serapha moved with a grace so fluid it seemed unnatural, her laughter ringing out like the chime of a cruel bell. The first demon lunged, its claws tearing through the air, but Serapha met it mid-strike, her hand plunging through its chest with effortless precision.
A sound like shattering glass filled the space as the demon collapsed into ash and blood, its scream still echoing. Another came, and then another, their shapes twisting, claws flashing, shadows writhing. Serapha danced between them, her strikes precise, her movements a deadly blur.
Calista watched, rooted in place, as blood—black as tar—spattered the walls. The air grew thick with the scent of sulfur and death. Each kill came with a cruel, exultant smile, Serapha’s laughter mingling with the wet, sickening sound of bodies breaking.
And then it was quiet.
Serapha stood in the center of the room, blood dripping from her hands. Her hair clung to her face, her chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. The carnage lay around her—ashes, torn limbs—the remnants of something once alive.
Calista’s breath came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. The warm, golden glow of her world had turned to shadow and blood, her sanctuary defiled by violence she could never unsee. Her stomach churned, and a sob tore from her throat.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she stepped back.
Serapha turned to her, unbothered, her sharp features still lit with that same mocking smile. “A monster you wished for,” she replied, her tone soft but cutting.
Calista shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “Stay away from me!” she cried, her voice cracking as she stumbled toward her room.
Serapha didn’t follow. She merely watched, the blood on her hands glistening in the dim light, as Calista fled.
The door slammed shut behind her, and Calista pressed her back against it, her chest heaving. Her room felt too small, too still, the walls closing in as the images played behind her eyes.
The demons, their screams.
The blood, thick and black.
Serapha, smiling through it all.
Her hands trembled as she sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She had never seen death before—not like this. The violence, the finality of it, the way the light in those monstrous eyes had flickered and died. She could still hear the wet sound of it, the crash of bodies falling lifeless to the ground.
And Serapha—Serapha had reveled in it.
Calista buried her face in her hands, but the memories refused to fade. She had wanted a companion, someone to fill the aching void of her solitude. Instead, she had bound herself to a killer, a savage who tore life apart with a smile.
“I wished for this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The words felt heavy, leaden with guilt and horror.
Her chest tightened as the weight of her choice settled over her. She had thought her loneliness unbearable, but this… this was worse. She was tied to Serapha now, a devil destined to rule hell, her forever entwined with something dark and unholy.
The room swayed, or perhaps it was just her. The reality of it pressed in, sharp and unrelenting.
Forever.