The house was eerily quiet. The flicker of dim street lights
outside cast long shadows against the walls. Steven sat in his living room, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the stillness. His thoughts were heavy, spiraling back to the events of the past few days. The tragedy of Larry's death, the weight of the mysterious old man's cryptic words, and the growing sense that something far darker was creeping into his life.
His mind kept wandering back to Kristina. He hadn't seen her in hours, not since the funeral, and the image of her tear-streaked face was burned into his memory. She had lost so much, and Steven—despite his own turmoil—wanted nothing more than to be there for her. To comfort her. But how could he, when he couldn't even control the rage building inside him?
Suddenly, his phone buzzed, jolting him from his thoughts. Kristina's name flashed across the screen.
His heart tightened.
He quickly answered. "Kristina?"
Her voice was soft, shaky, as if she had been crying. "Steven... I need you. It's... it's Julien. He's gone. I don't know what to do."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He could barely hear the rest of what she said, the rush of blood in his ears drowning out her words. All he could think was that someone he had come to care about—someone so close to Kristina—had been taken from her.
"I'm on my way," he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.
The drive to town felt like an eternity. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a force that left his knuckles white. The cold air outside whipped through the cracks in the window as he sped toward Kristina's house. The weight of the world pressed against his chest, his thoughts constantly flitting back to the dark forces surrounding him, the demon inside him, and how, despite it all, he couldn't help but feel something more for Kristina.
When he arrived, the scene was more heartbreaking than he had imagined. Kristina stood in the doorway, her face a mask of sorrow. Her parents stood behind her, their eyes hollow with grief. The air was thick with the weight of loss, the kind of silence that only follows death.
Steven didn't know what to say. He didn't have the words. But the moment he saw Kristina, her eyes locked with his, and before he could take another step, she was in his arms. Her body trembled against his, the warmth of her skin seeping through his jacket. For a brief second, all the darkness and pain inside him melted away. Her soft sobs against his chest echoed in the quiet, and in that moment, he realized just how much she needed him.
Her arms tightened around him, and for the first time, Steven let himself hold her without hesitation. It wasn't just sympathy or friendship—it was something more. Something he had long buried deep inside, a feeling that was now impossible to ignore.
Kristina pulled back slightly, her eyes red from crying. "I'm so lost, Steven," she whispered. "I don't know how to keep going."
His heart ached for her, and he found himself searching for the right words. But the truth was, he didn't know how to make her feel better. He could barely make himself feel better. But he knew one thing for certain: he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
"I'll be here for you, Kristina," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever you need."
As she looked at him, her gaze softened. A brief flicker of something unspoken passed between them—a connection that neither of them had ever fully acknowledged, but now seemed undeniable.
For a moment, there was only the two of them, standing in the heavy silence, the weight of the world pressing down on them both. But deep inside Steven, something dark stirred. The devil, the rider, was still there. Watching. Waiting. He couldn't escape it. And the thought of bringing Kristina into that world terrified him more than anything.
Still, she was in his arms, and for that brief moment, it was enough to drown out the roar of the flames that were beginning to consume him.
***
Steven sat alone in the darkness of his room, the silence pressing down on him like a weight. The night had fallen, and the air felt colder than it ever had before. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't shake. His heart still ached for the things he'd lost—his uncle, the sense of purpose he once had. But the feeling that lingered was more than just grief. It was dreadful. The kind of dread that gnawed at his soul and refused to let go.
"The devil... he took everything," he whispered to the empty room, his voice barely louder than a breath. "Took my uncle, took my life... Hell, he's even taken my peace of mind."
He sighed, rubbing his temples, trying to fight the headache that had been creeping up on him for days. The deal he'd made—the soul he'd given away—seemed so distant now, like a dark memory he couldn't escape. But it was more than just a memory. It was a curse. A curse that twisted everything around him, making the world feel like a stage where he was playing a part, and the strings were being pulled by something far darker than he could ever have imagined.
"Everything I loved... gone. It was supposed to be worth it. Happiness, they said. Strength... control..." He scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "What did I get? I got nothing but fear. Fear of losing everything I care about. Fear of what's next. The devil's got his claws in me, and no matter how hard I try, I can't shake him."
His hand clenched into a fist, and for a moment, his thoughts turned dark. "I can feel him, every second of every day. The rider, the demon inside me. It's like he's just waiting... waiting for me to break, waiting for me to give in. And I don't know how long I can keep fighting him."
He stood up abruptly, pacing across the room, his thoughts spinning. The world outside his window seemed so distant, so removed from his pain. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, the truth kept slapping him in the face.
"He promised me happiness... but it was a lie. A fucking lie. All he gave me was emptiness, and it's slowly eating away at me. What if…
what if one day, it's not just my uncle that's gone? What if it's everything? What if he takes her, too?"
His breath caught in his throat as the thought of losing Kristina, of losing anyone else, tore at his chest. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't stand the thought of that weight crushing him any further.
"I'm not just fighting to survive," he muttered bitterly, his voice trembling. "I'm fighting to keep my soul. To keep whatever's left of me. But what happens when there's nothing left to fight for?"
His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his fears, and for a long moment, he simply stood there, frozen. He stared at the empty space in front of him as if hoping for some kind of answer to appear. But there was nothing.
"There's nothing left for me but this curse," he whispered, his voice cracking. "And I don't know how much longer I can take it."
With those words, Steven finally sank to his bed, the exhaustion weighing down on him more than ever. He closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come. Instead, the fear, the anger, the regret—it all flooded back in waves. The devil had taken everything, and there was nothing left but a broken soul and the uncertainty of what would be stolen next.
End of Volume One