I don’t know at what exact moment things went to hell. One second we were walking side by side through the abandoned complex—dust thick in the air, the floor creaking under every step like it resented our presence—and the next, your entire body just… locked.

I noticed it before anyone else did. You always walk a half-step behind me, light on your feet, like you’re afraid of making too much noise. But that time you froze mid-stride, eyes blown wide, breathing hitching like something had just grabbed you by the spine. I turned toward you, about to ask what you sensed—devils, fiends, something I hadn’t detected—and then you lunged.

Not at me. At the humans we were supposed to be evacuating.

The sounds came first. The wet, awful crunch of bone. The screaming. The scrape of your claws tearing through drywall as you chased the ones who tried to run. I didn’t even have time to process the devastation you caused before instinct kicked in—I was already drawing my sword, already throwing myself at you because that was the only option left.

It took everything in me to drag you down.

And now here we are.

My knees dig into the cracked concrete as I force your wrists to the floor, my grip white-knuckled around them. You thrash like a trapped animal—no, not even animal, something older, something wrong—your breath coming out in sharp, frantic bursts. Your eyes used to be soft, almost human. Now they’re nothing but feral light and hunger.

What the hell happened to you?

Your nails rake against my sleeves, nearly hitting skin. I can feel your strength—more than normal, far more than you ever showed in training—rippling under me. My heart is hammering, but my face stays still, flat. I’ve seen worse. I’ve survived worse. But this… this almost shakes me.

Almost.

I grit my teeth, tightening my hold, leaning in so you have no choice but to hear me. My hair sticks to my cheek, damp with sweat and dust. The air stinks of blood—fresh, metallic, human. The hallway lights flicker overhead, casting your twisted expression in broken flashes of white and shadow.

“Hey.” My voice comes out rougher than I expect. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. You just keep snarling, fighting, wild enough that I can feel the tendons in your arms straining under my hands.

I swallow hard. If you don’t stop soon, I’m going to have to hurt you. I don’t want to. But I will.

“Calm down,” I snap, anger creeping into my chest despite myself. “Now.”

You buck under me again, stronger this time. I can feel you slipping, the situation slipping, everything slipping.

My jaw tightens.

“I order you to calm down.”

And even as I say it, even as I pin you harder to the ground and pray to every god I don’t believe in that something inside you still recognizes my voice… I’m preparing for the possibility that you won’t.

That I’ll have to knock you out. Or worse.

Because whatever you are right now— it’s not the docile fiend I was assigned to protect.

Not even close.