Page 72 of Eclipse Born

“No,” Zeryth said quietly. “You haven't. Not really. What you've heard from demons are just stories, shadows of the true horror. Cade was there for what felt to him like centuries.”

I felt sick. “Centuries?”

“Time moves differently in Hell,” Zeryth explained. “What was months for you was lifetimes for him. And every moment was agony, designed specifically for him, targeting his deepest fears, his most cherished beliefs.”

The invisible barrier receded, and I found myself sinking into the chair opposite Zeryth, legs suddenly unable to support me. The thought of Cade suffering for what seemed like centuries was enough to knock the fight out of me, at least temporarily.

“So you took his soul,” I said numbly. “To protect him from the memories?”

Zeryth studied me for a moment, then reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small crystal vial. Inside, something bluish-white swirled like smoke caught in a whirlpool, pulsing with an inner light that seemed to flicker in time with a heartbeat.

“This,” he said, holding it up between his fingers, “is Cade. The essence of him, at least.”

I stared at the vial, mesmerized and horrified all at once. That small container held everything that made Cade who he was—his compassion, his moral compass, his capacity for love and guilt and hope. All the things that had been missing since his return.

“You're keeping his soul in a fucking bottle?” I whispered, torn between reaching for it and recoiling from it.

“It's not a bottle,” Zeryth corrected mildly. “It's a soul vial, crafted specifically to contain and protect. Think of it as... stasis. The soul exists, but it doesn't experience. It doesn't remember. It doesn't suffer.”

He gazed at the vial with an expression I couldn't quite decipher—something almost like fondness. The way he looked at it reminded me of how my foster father Declan would look at his prized weapons, with pride of ownership but also genuine care.

“I don't understand,” I said, struggling to reconcile this bizarre situation. “Why help him at all? What's Cade to you?”

Zeryth's expression softened slightly, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of something that might have been genuine emotion. “When I marked Cade as a child, it created a connection. I've watched him grow, struggle, fight. I've seen his triumphs and failures, his moments of doubt and courage.”

“So what, he's like your pet project?” I couldn't keep the disgust from my voice.

“No,” Zeryth replied sharply, the first crack in his calm demeanor. “He's more than that.”

He stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the city below. “I never intended to become... invested. The mark was meant to be a simple deal—his life for his eventual service. But over time, something changed.”

“Changed how?”

Zeryth turned back to me, his expression unreadable. “I never had children, Sean. In all my eons of existence, I never created life, never watched something grow under my guidance. Cade became... important to me.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Are you seriously trying to tell me you see yourself as Cade's father figure? That's twisted, even for a demon.”

“I'm not a demon,” Zeryth corrected. “Not in the way you understand them. I am... older. Different. And yes, I recognize the irony of my attachment. But it doesn't make it less real.”

I couldn't wrap my head around it. This ancient being, this creature of immense power, claiming some kind of paternal bond with Cade? It seemed impossible, absurd even.

“If you care about him so much,” I challenged, “then why keep his soul? Why not give it back?”

“Because I know what it contains,” Zeryth replied gravely. “I know what he endured in Hell, what memories that soul holds. Would you hand someone you cared about a bomb and tell them to hold it tight?”

I had no answer for that.

“And what, you just planned to keep it forever?” I asked finally.

Zeryth gave a small, almost sad smile. “No. But returning it is... complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I pressed.

“Souls aren't like organs that can be transplanted,” Zeryth explained. “They're consciousness, memory, emotion, all wrapped in one. Returning Cade's soul means returning every memory, every moment of torture, every second of those centuries in Hell.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “It would destroy him.”

“Not physically,” Zeryth corrected. “But mentally? Spiritually? It would shatter him beyond repair.”

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