Page 31 of The Daughter of the Devil

As I walk through the grounds and up to the front bay doors, a few people say happy birthday to me. I do as Alistair once instructed me to do and smile politely as they go by. There's nothing I want more than to turn around, go home, crawl back under the sheets, and stay there. But as long as I don't say anything out loud, I'll be okay. The courtyard is a cacophony of laughter and chatter, the bright lights strung across the once foreboding asylum casting a warm glow. Music blares from hidden speakers, and the air is filled with the smell of popcorn and sugary treats. I can see clusters of students, their faces lit with excitement and anticipation. The asylum, which once loomed ominously, now looks almost welcoming with its decorations and festive atmosphere.

As I walk through the grounds, the crunch of gravel under my boots is drowned out by the din of the party. A few more people wish me a happy birthday, their voices blending into the background noise. I respond with polite smiles, just as Alistair had taught me, but inside, I feel hollow.

“Morgana!” Sierra's voice is familiar, and I feel her presence coming towards me. When she finds me, she gives me the biggest hug. As her chest collides with mine, I can feel the pulsing emotions emanating from her. “I’m so sorry.” I don’t actually think she means for me to hear it. Ignoring it completely, I pull her back.

“Hey, this is a party, right? Isn’t it meant to be fun or something?” I try to keep my tone light, though it feels forced. Her broken smile is a painful reminder of the emotions we’re both trying to navigate.

“Yeah, it is,” she replies, her voice wavering. But as she looks at me, her face suddenly pales, turning almost green.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my own concern rising as I follow her gaze.

“I thought demons didn’t come back from the dead,” Sierra manages to say, her voice trembling.

“They don’t. They don’t have souls.” My own voice sounds distant, detached, as I follow her line of sight over my shoulder. Standing in the street is the boy I know as Death, but behind him is the biggest surprise of all.

Without a care for anyone in my way, I push through the crowd, my heart pounding in my chest. Dashing across the grass field, I stop immediately in front of him. I want to say something, but nothing comes out.

There he is, as tall as he used to be, the color in his flesh brighter than ever. Only this time, he looks more human. Even in his human form before, he had his piercings and some features that hinted at his true nature. This time, his skin is completely clear. His locks are just as wavy but fuller, and there are no signs of piercings. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and his white collared shirt blows slightly in the wind.

I am overwhelmed, my emotions a whirlwind. I can’t bring myself to say anything.

“Holy crap,” Sierra states as she comes to stand beside me. “Dude, I thought you were dead.”

“So did I.” He smiles, turning back to me. His brow furrows with concern as he walks toward me. “My lady?” I want to believe that what I’m seeing is real, but there’s every possibility I could be hallucinating. “It is me,” he reassures. I lift my hands to his face and caress his cheeks, needing to be sure he isn’t just an illusion. His skin is warm, solid, and undeniably real.

“You’re really here,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“I’m really here.” His final assurance is all I need. I grab hold of his neck and lift myself up towards him. Our lips meet, and as he caresses my lips with his tongue, I know it’s truly him. When I eventually pull away, I am stunned, tears welling in my eyes. His presence is overwhelming, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the cold emptiness I’ve felt since his death. The wind rustles around us, carrying the scents of the night and the distant sounds of the party. But in this moment, all I can focus on is Alistair.

“Alistair,” I breathe, my voice thick with emotion. “How?” He turns and faces Death, who stands beside him. The boy barely grins before he responds.

“Demons with souls have to go somewhere.”

My heart pounds, hearing that Alistair grew a soul. “I checked,” I persist. “I checked several times to try and find a Soul Crystal with Alistair’s soul in it, and there wasn't one.”

“No one said his soul deserved to end up in Hell.” I turn to him as I realize…

“You went to Heaven.” He smiles at me and nods.

“So you're only here to say hello and goodbye.” I can feel tears welling up inside me, but I'm not gonna let them fall just yet.

“I’m here to say hello.” He grins.

My heart skips a beat, but the uncertainty gnaws at me. “Death, explain what happened. What's going to happen?”

Death’s smile fades as he steps forward. “Alistair cannot be judged on a lifetime of obeying orders, so I bargained with the Council to reinstate Alistair to a position of his choosing. Either he can be reset and live as a human on Earth, where his actions can be determined, or he can return to his former state, a servant to the future Queen of Hell. He will have a soul, he will have the option to choose against obeying her commands, and he won't have a second chance if he dies again.”

I turn to Alistair, my voice trembling. “Please, choose humanity. Even if it means forgetting me. You deserve a life that is yours and yours alone.”

He looks at me, his eyes searching mine. “Is that what you really want?”

“All I want is for you to be happy,” I whisper, tears threatening to spill over.

Alistair takes a deep breath and turns to Death. “I want to be reinstated to my former self.”

My heart wrenches at his words, but I understand. His loyalty to me runs deeper than anything else. Death nods, a solemn expression on his face.

“Very well,” Death says. “You understand the consequences, Alistair. This is your final chance.”

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