The Bound Demon

The room had fallen into a deep silence, only the faint sound of Zephriel's breathing breaking through. Elyon moved carefully, tidying the sparse room with gentle hands. His movements were quiet and deliberate, as if afraid to disturb the stillness.

Zephriel sat against the wall, his head still bowed, white hair cascading over his shoulders and covering his chained hands. His lips barely moved when he spoke, his voice a whisper in the dim light.

"Zephriel."

Elyon paused, his hand frozen mid-air as he reached for a stray piece of cloth. "My lord?"

"My name is Zephriel," he repeated, the name slipping from his mouth like a secret.

Elyon's lips curled into a soft smile. "Thank you for telling me."

Silence wrapped around them again, thick and unmoving. Elyon continued his work, folding blankets, straightening the sparse furniture, and wiping the dust from the cold stone floor. Eventually, he gathered the cleaning supplies and turned towards Zephriel, bowing low.

"May I have your permission to clean outside, my lord?" he asked softly.

Zephriel didn't lift his head, but his fingers twitched, the chains clinking softly. He gave a small nod.

Elyon rose gracefully and stepped out of the room. As he closed the heavy wooden door behind him, the world outside seemed vast and empty. The corridor stretched in both directions, bathed in shadows and draped in dust. It was as if time had stopped, leaving only echoes of what once was.

The young bride clutched a rag and a small bucket of water, taking a deep breath. The mansion was enormous, its stone walls covered in age-old dirt and cobwebs. The floors were cold against his bare feet, but Elyon did not mind. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, determined to bring some life back into the abandoned halls.

As he worked, a soft melody escaped his lips. At first, it was just a hum, a quiet tune that seemed to soothe the emptiness. But soon, words followed, gentle and full of warmth:

"In shadows deep, where silence lies,A light may bloom, a gentle rise.Through dust and dark, with quiet grace,A melody to fill the space."

His voice was sweet and calming, weaving through the dusty air like a breeze. The sound echoed off the walls, softening the harshness of the empty mansion. His small figure moved from one corner to another, cleaning each surface, brushing away years of neglect.

Elyon never left the right side of the mansion, respecting the boundaries Zephriel had set. His feet never crossed the line, even as his curiosity grew. Instead, he focused on his work, polishing old wood and wiping grime from the windows. As he sang, the dullness of the mansion seemed to recede, a gentle glow returning to its stone bones.

The sunlight filtered through newly cleaned windows, casting warm patches on the cold floor. Elyon's song continued, a mix of old lullabies and half-remembered tunes. His voice was soft, but in the silence of the mansion, it was enough to fill the air.

"Through every step, a whisper light,A hope to turn the dark to bright.Where shadows linger, love will find,A path to free the heart and mind."

Hours passed, and Elyon worked tirelessly. His small hands scrubbed and polished, his feet padding softly on the stone floors. Even as his arms grew tired and his knees ached, he did not stop. His song became a rhythm, guiding his movements and filling the empty halls.

He did not notice the quiet figure at the door, the way Zephriel's head was turned slightly, as if listening. The chains still held him in place, but his posture was different—less tense, more open. The song reached him, brushing against his heart like a feather.

For the first time in years, Zephriel allowed himself to listen.

And in that moment, the mansion, filled with dust and shadows, began to feel a little less empty