She woke up. Body, heavy. Head, pulsating. The world was spinning.
Something was holding her head like a pillow.
"Spring." He muttered as if he was caught off guard.
He was right there, beside her, crouching down, holding her head. He was looking at her as if he had been there for a long time. He looked… relieved. Tense, but relieved. His eyebrows, still, gave up the lingering feeling of worry that he was trying to hide.
"You-".
"I am fine." Her words cut the air like knives.
"You're not fine. What-"
"That is none of your goddamn business!" She was spitting words like acid.
She slowly, painfully, placed her hands on the ground to help her stand up. Managed to get on both feet. Barely.
Just one moment later she lost her balance, her knees failing her and was about to drop.
Fall caught her arm instinctively, steadying her.
"We're playing the I don't need you game again I see." He said softly, smug as hell.
She yanked her arm from his grasp like it burned. "I don't."
"Yeah. Bleeding from the ears and all. Totally indestructible."
She glared at him.
Not because he was wrong—
But because he was smiling.
And then she understood.
He was teasing her. The way demons do.
He wasn't human anymore. Not really. This was what became of those who survived darkness arcane.
And he fed on her reaction.
She breathed in. Steady.
Let it go. Don't let him win.
Then turned away and kept walking through the woods.
He followed without a word.
Close enough to catch her if she fell again.
Far enough to let her believe she wouldn't.
They walked in silence for hours.
You never knew where the Veil would take you.
But what needed to find you—
It would.
So they walked.
Night fell.
The stars spilled across the sky like shattered crystal—
Brilliant, pure, unreal.
Above, a fairytale.
Below, a tragedy.
Spring released her light orbs into the air, letting them float around her.
A soft glow wrapped her in a gentle radius of sight.
Fall didn't need it.
The Seasons received from Dante extraordinary trinkets as a gift from helping him rise to the throne. Gifts that they carried with them everywhere.
Spring wore earrings—delicate arcs of silver—that allowed her to hear across vast distances. Secrets, whispers, lies carried on the wind found their way to her.
Summer had a tongue piercing that let her command people and creatures of equal or lesser power. For Summer, that meant almost everyone.
Winter wore gloves—stitched with ancient thread—that opened portals to anywhere he wished.
Fall's trinket had once been a monocle, gifted by the king because his left eye failed. It granted him perfect sight—far beyond any human's. Even through darkness.
There were not many things that could escape Fall's sight.
Except—
That one thing Summer's curse stole from him until not very long ago.
Spring frowned.
There was something about that dark eye of his. One dark eye in place of a damaged eye.
Too much of a coincidence.
"If you're wondering, yes," he said lazily, hands tucked into his coat.
"This eye is now my trinket. Of sorts."
She stopped walking. Just for a beat.
He did this far too often.
He'd done it after training too—knowing what she'd say before she did.
She hated it. It was too… intimate.
"So what," she muttered, jaw tightening, "you see people's thoughts now too?"
His lips curved into that same maddening smirk.
"Oh, no."
He looked at her—really looked.
"There's no need to read your mind, Spring."
His voice was soft. Almost kind.
But laced with amusement.
"It's always so easy to guess."
All of her calmness gone. She clenched her fists again.
"Is this funny for you?" Spring asked.
"You turned into a demon and this is what you choose to do? Cling to me and try to get a rise out of me?"
Fall blinked slowly.
Then gave a crooked smile.
"You sound almost flattered."
Her fury was rising. Arms gesturing frantically.
"Flattered by you?" She turned her gaze away.
"So you did lose your damn mind."
He grinned, but it faltered for a fraction of a second.
Then it widened.
"You cuss a lot now, Spring. Did you know that?"
A beat.
"Guess you lost your royal touch while being with Winter."
She glared at him, disgust bubbling in her chest.
"You're—"
"Irresistible"
She flinched.
And he saw it.
Gods, her emotions were like perfume in the air.
"But hey," he added with a smirk, "I guess I am honoured. Out of all the things you could hate in this world, I'm still number one."
"You're delusional."
"Maybe." He tilted his head. "But let me tell you a little secret."
He started circling her slowly.
"If you're so curious about demons, here's one of the perks—"
He came around to face her again, stepping right into her space.
Locked eyes.
"I can smell your emotions, Spring."
His voice dropped, silk over venom.
"And right now?"
"It smells like murder... and kisses."
He leaned in, just enough for the heat to pass between them.
Smiling.
"And if you weren't holding back, you'd have done one of those by now."
She stepped back.
No hesitation.
In a blur, she plucked a leaf from her pouch—
and conjured from it a massive, magical hand.
WHACK.
It slapped him so hard the forest shook. Birds flew away.
"I will kill you."
He staggered a half-step, then grinned wide.
But his smile didn't hold.
They hadn't even realised when it happened—
but they had entered a town.
Wooden houses lined the path. Modest. Still.
Empty like husks.
The streets were paved in quiet symmetry.
No clutter. No decay.
It looked like a place people had simply walked away from.
A market square sprawled before them.
Stalls and storefronts still stood intact, their signs gently swaying in the windless air.
There was no sound—but the air carried a ghost of noise,
a hush that felt like memory.
The echo of lives once lived.
They kept walking—drawn forward—
until they reached the gates of a manor.
Tall stone. Cracked with age.
Mist coiled at its base.
Weeds clung to its frame in honour of the years it stood.
The windows were blackened—sightless eyes staring back.
No birds. No wind. No sound.
It was obvious to them.
This was their next challenge.
Fall's hand hovered near his weapon.
Spring could feel it too—something in the air had turned.
And the moment they stepped across the threshold—
Everything changed.
Pitch black.
Spring released her orbs.
Statues.
A lot of them.
Dozens—no, hundreds. Frozen mid-scream, mid-move, mid-battle. Some small. Some towering. All grotesque.
They walked slowly, weaving through them. Careful not to touch.
"These are statues of demons," Fall murmured, unease thick in his voice. "Just be careful."
"I really don't need you to tell me what to do."
She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth.
Click.
A short, sharp motion. Barely a twitch.
But they saw it.
The statues moved. Just an inch—necks cracking toward them. Eyes that shouldn't glow lit red.
They both turned—
Fall instantly placing himself between her and the nearest figure.
"What was that?" Spring whispered, her voice small. Cold with helpless fear.
Then—
A laugh.
Echoing. All around them. Too loud. Too close.
Their breath stopped.
They knew that voice.
"What do we have here…"
A shape blurred from the shadows, fast as lightning.
Fall threw his arm up—caught it mid-air with his claws.
Tharion.
"Fall and Spring," he sneered. "How poetic. I gave you your titles, and you took mine from me."
He lunged again.
Fall blocked—barely. The clash of their demonic claws echoed like thunder. Sparks flew. Shadows burst.
Spring staggered back, arcane shaking in her hands, but she couldn't get a clear view—they moved too fast. She saw only shadows and steel.
"You're wasting your time with her," Tharion spat. "She's broken. Done for. You could have had power, freedom… but you cling to what's already dead."
Fall's eyes gleamed.
"I do agree with one thing. "
A pause.
"Dead should stay dead!"
He launched forward—fast and brutal—but Tharion ducked, striking back with the fury of ten demons like him. They were blurs in the dark, claws slashing, the ground cracking beneath them.
Spring suddenly choked—
A hiss.
Low. But certain.
Gas.
They must've hit something during the fight.
The air turned sharp. Her nostrils burned.
Poison.
She reached for her pouch with trembling hands. The leaves. Took one, pressed to her mouth and nose, turned under her fingers into a mask and dulled the effect.
She needed a way out. Fast.
Just a crack in the floor. Just a weakness.
Fall and Tharion clashed again and again. The ruined king spoke between attacks.
"Come with me, Fall."
That made Fall hesitate. Only for a second.
"…What did you just say?"
"There's so much you still don't understand about this power," Tharion said. "It never needed to be painful. We only thought it did. We didn't understand it back then."
Fall opened his mouth—but didn't get to answer.
Spring's eyes lit up. She could hear it.
"There!"
She sprinted forward, grabbed Fall's wrist, and whispered something fast and ancient.
She dragged him with her, bursting into run—
And dropped the leaf. A spark of flame ignited on contact.
BOOM.
The manor exploded.
They tumbled onto the grass just outside the blast zone. Heat scorched behind them.
Spring ended up on her knees. Breath shallow. Skin pale.
She was shaking violently.
Her powers were fighting her again.
Fall stood on his knees as well, in stunned silence. Not looking at the burning ruin.
Not even looking at her.
He was staring at his hand.
Because she was still holding it.
She gasped softly and yanked her hand away. Eyes to the ground.
She waited for him to say something smug. Something sharp.
He didn't.
Silence.
Only the giant fire crackling in the distance.
She gathered what strength she had left and forced herself up.
They took just a few steps.
But then—
She collapsed.
"Spring!" Fall was beside her in seconds, his hands catching her waist.
"Don't—" she rasped. "I'm fine."
"No. You're not. You—Spring, your legs…"
She followed his gaze.
They were swollen. Blackened in patches. Her magic had been eating her alive again.
And this time, she couldn't deny it.
Fall didn't hesitate.
"I'm carrying you."
"I—"
"No, Spring. Please."
She saw the look on his face. Not smug. Not playful. Terrified.
So she didn't fight him.
He carried her on his back, strong and silent.
They walked like that for a long time.
Spring drifted in and out of sleep.
She couldn't help it.
The tiredness was a side effect of that unstable powers.
"Fall," she whispered groggily.
He stiffened slightly. "Yes?"
"If you're a demon now…"
A pause. Her breath slowed.
"…why do you still…"
But the sentence never finished.
She fell asleep mid-thought.
She woke the next morning, warm.
Am I… in a cave?
Her head foggy. Breath slow.
It smelled… familiar.
Her hands moved—and felt fabric.
She sat up fast, like electricity had jolted her from the inside out.
Fall's cloak.
Wrapped around her.
She shot to her feet in the cave.
Laughter came from outside.
"You should've seen your face, Spring. Priceless."
Her jaw clenched.
Fall peeked into the cave, smirking. "What? You were cold. Sleeping. I just—"
"Leave me alone!" she snapped, rage choking her words. "If you're a demon now, why don't you just go to the Fountain already?!"
He blinked. His smirk vanished, just for a second.
"…I can't. Remember? I am not going anywhere this time. You need me."
She stormed out and threw the cloak at his chest.
"I don't."
He caught it with a quiet laugh.
"Is that what you wanted to ask me?" he said, that mischief creeping back in.
She froze. "What?"
He leaned lazily against a wall of the entrance of the cave, smirking now.
"Before you fell asleep on my back. After you held my hand. You were so cute, Spring. Really."
Her breath caught.
She turned—and walked as fast as she could.
Fall followed at his usual distance.
Quiet. Watchful.
They walked again.The silence was as thick as ever.
"What do you think he meant… by me joining him?"
A pause.
"Do you think there are others… like me?" Fall asked.
Spring didn't look at him.
She wouldn't admit it, but—She felt bad for him.
It had to be lonely, to—
No.I don't care.
Soon, they reached a place—
an opening in the woods.
Spirit orbs floated everywhere, glowing dimly under the sky. They hovered like forgotten lanterns, pulsing gently. It felt like they had gathered there to rest—like exiles with nowhere else to go.
This place wasn't meant to be found.
Spring slowed. "What is this?"
"Visitors?"
A voice—soft, smooth. They turned.
A spirit stepped forward, materialising into the shape of a middle-aged woman. She glowed faintly, the light clinging to her skin like dew. Her features were elegant. Gentle. Her eyes, ancient and soft.
Spring's guard rose instantly, hand twitching near her side.
But the spirit simply smiled and dipped her head.
"You're not like the others who pass through," she said. "You're... still warm."
She stepped closer, and her gaze found Fall.
"And you," she murmured, tilting her head with a faint, knowing smile. "Your presence is stormy. But not cruel. I like that."
Fall's brow twitched. "Do you?"
The spirit laughed quietly.
"Don't be so tense. You remind me of someone I knew. Difficult, but also gentle."
Her eyes turned back to Spring. "You're tired. Deeply."
Spring didn't answer. Her hands were cold. Her throat, tight.
The spirit walked with them a little further, her voice like a song woven into the trees.
"This place used to be alive," she said softly. "Wanderers. Lovers who died before they could say goodbye."
Neither of them spoke.
"They used to dance here," the spirit went on. "Even after death."
Her smile faded. "But not anymore."
She stopped beside a stone half-sunken in moss.
She looked at Spring seriously now.
"That weight will hollow you."
"I'm fine," Spring said quickly. Too quickly.
The spirit only tilted her head. "No. You're not."
Then she looked at Fall.
"What are you waiting for?"
Fall blinked. "Excuse me?"
Her voice was kind, but sharp.
"You bleed, and laugh about it."
The spirit stepped closer, still glowing faintly.
"Most who come here are dead."
She looked between them.
"But you two… you're not."
Fall's shoulders tensed.
The spirit smiled faintly. "Don't waste your lives lying to yourselves like this."
There was a pause—too long.
Then she added, gentler now, "I will guide you out. The path is dangerous ahead."
"We'll find our own way," Fall said sharply.
The spirit didn't flinch. She just studied him.
Then she turned to Spring one last time.
"Be careful with that one," she said, playful on the surface—but her voice dropped into something deeper.
"He's burning from the inside out."
Spring held her gaze.
Then nodded, once.
They left the ghost behind.
Fall walked ahead this time.
He kicked a stone from their path casually, shoulders stiff. "Charming little ghost," he muttered. "Didn't think she'd fawn over me that much."
That was it.
Spring stopped.
He turned back, smirking.
She walked toward him.
Slow. Deliberate.
But her eyes—
Her eyes were shaking.
"I can't control my powers anymore."
Her voice was sharp. Brittle.
Every word hurt.
"It happened that night."
Fall's smirk disappeared.
"Since that night, they've been eating me alive.
Every time I use them, it feels like they want me dead."
She kept walking.
The space between them shrinking.
Her voice unraveling.
"You think this is funny?
To smile at ghosts and tease me like you didn't just destroy me the last time we saw each other?"
Now she stood right in front of him.
Face flushed.
Hands clenched.
"You touched someone else."
His jaw locked.
"You looked at her with the same eyes you used to look at me."
Her voice cracked.
"You told her to stay with you.
In the house that we built together."
He looked down.
"And then you came back—like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter.
You just… showed up."
"You act like you didn't betray me.
Like I should still look at you and feel anything but disgust."
Her voice splintered. Shattered.
"You cheated on me!"
She should've stopped there.
But the pain wanted out.
"You ruined me.
And then you walked back in like that was just…
just a pause in your story!"
Her breathing grew fast.
Unstable.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes—
but she wouldn't let them fall.
"You flirt with me. Tease me. Push and push and push—
What do you want, Fall?
You want to feed off my feelings?"
She took a step forward, venom in every breath.
"Feed off this.
I hate you!
You destroyed me when I lo—"
And then—
A single drop of blood slid down his cheek.
Spring froze.
It didn't stop.
A second drop.
A third.
Thick. Gleaming. Real.
Demon tears.
Not a myth.
Not a trick.
Real.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move.
And something in her twisted.
Not rage this time.
It was disbelief.
Because suddenly, she saw it.
He hadn't been pretending.
He hadn't been smiling because he was fine. All of that was a mask.
He was carrying it. The guilt.
All of it.
Silently.
The blood kept falling—
slow and terrible—
down his face.
Spring couldn't breathe.
That he didn't try to defend himself.
That he believed he deserved it and stood there to take it.
"What…" Her voice barely made it out. "What happened to you?"
Still, he didn't look at her.
And the anger—every sharp word, every reason she had to hate him—crumbled.
Her tears came suddenly.
She covered her mouth, as if that could stop the sob clawing its way out.
Then, finally—
He looked at her.
So she turned.
Fast.
"Come on," she whispered, voice trembling. "We have to keep moving."
She didn't look back.
But her steps faltered.
He didn't follow at first.
Then, quiet—
so quiet it hurt:
"You're crying."
Spring froze.
The way he said it—
like it was mystical.
"You're imagining things," she said.
But her voice was already breaking.