The next second, they shot open. My body thrashed—gasping, hands clawing at empty airs. My heart slammed against my ribs. I expected the sky, the cage, the hand—

  A ceiling. Wooden and familiar. I’d seen it thousands of times before.

  My room.

  I was back in my room.

  My head pulsed with pain, causing me to groan. I immediately sat up and started rubbing my temples, hoping it would make the agony and sudden onset of nausea fade faster.

  “What a dream,” I groaned. Even closing my eyes didn’t stop the room from spinning. I wanted to bash my head against a sharp corner or at least grind my temples against one.

  I tried to open my eyes again. The pain was starting to dull, but I still felt terrible. My entire body was tingling. It felt like I’d jumped off a tall building, survived, tried a second time, survived again, then was hit by a carriage.

  All my memories from my time with Eve stayed upon waking up. A part of me still thought I was in a dream, but that part was the minority.

  I glanced at my wrists. That single sight silenced the unease inside.

  Thick black bands wrapped around them both. I had the mark. I could use mana. I had awakened.

  “None on my fingers yet,” I muttered, glancing at my digit. “Need to learn the elements somehow.” I rubbed my eyes with my palms. “Better ask Quintin in the morning.”

  At once, I noticed something thick and wet adhering to my fingers and palms.

  I pulled my hands away slowly, blinking through the haze. Dark stains smeared my hands, glistening under the dim moonlight. For a second, my mind clung to the wrong answer. Tears. Then I touched my tongue to my skin. The taste was metallic.

  Blood.

  I didn’t remember anyone saying or telling me I’d bleed out my eyes when I awakened. Quintin or Amalia definitely would have mentioned that. Then again, they were the type of people to hide information, thinking it’d make me worry more if I knew something before it happened. It was honestly their worst qualities.

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  Eve mentioned I’d need to wash my face when I woke up. I remembered. It must have been something she did.

  I swung my legs off the bed…and nearly collapsed.

  The second my feet touched the floor, pain tore through me. My muscles ached, my skin burned, and my bones felt splintered from the inside out.

  My knees buckled. I willed myself forward until I was by my dresser. I used it to support myself, gripping the wood with shaking fingers. I wanted to scream. I wanted to curse Eve’s name. Instead, I gritted my teeth and lifted myself until I fully faced my mirror.

  “Water, water, water,” I uttered, glancing at a pitcher on the dresser. There were cups and a bowl nearby. I took the bowl, placed it before me, poured in the water, and splashed it against my face.

  Instantly, I felt a chill around my eyes. My skin relaxed as I massaged my cheeks with my fingers.

  “I need a light,” I grumbled. My eyes lingered on the candlestick by my nightstand. “Need you.”

  My body screamed at me as I crossed the room again and returned with the lamp. Once the wick was lit, the small flame illuminated the room. Shadows that he had been hiding in furniture—dormant and leery—danced against my walls as if they were music playing.

  I stared at my mirror.

  My breath caught in my throat, and my heart started thumping louder than before. Did she do this to me?

  Blood stained my face. It cakes around my eyes and smeared into my eyebrows. It dripped in a long line down my face, cheeks, then chin. Lines and droplets of it escaped to my neck, shoulders, and chest. They stained my clothing and skin.

  But that wasn’t what caused me to panic.

  It was my eyes.

  They were white.

  Brown, green, violet, orange, grey, then white. From lowest to highest, they represented how much mana one could tap into and leech from the world.

  I remembered Eve saying I had violet eyes before touching my hands. That was already astonishing. That probably happened to a handful of children worldwide every few decades.

  She changed them, didn’t she? I realized as I touched the skin by my eyes. If there weren’t a black dot in the middle of the eyes and an outline around it, it would look like my eyes were permanently rolled into the back of my head. Creepy.

  Most people would celebrate the change. A white-eyed child was a miracle, destined for greatness. The kind of power that made kings take notice. The kind that made priests whisper of divine favor. The kind that made people afraid.

  If I were human, I might have even felt blessed.

  But I wasn’t human. I was an archdevil.

  A human with white eyes would be seen as a hero for humanity. So what would an archdevil with those same eyes be called? A villain. Evil incarnate. A sign of the end times.

  I didn’t want anyone paying attention to me at all. Now, everyone will. It’s the last thing I could have possibly wanted. It was going to be hard enough hiding the horns when I got older.

  “I’m screwed.” The words felt weightless and ridiculous. Laughter bubbled up, thin and hollow, to the point where I couldn’t stop it. “Absolutely screwed!”