The first thing Aria did when she arrived the next morning?
Punch me in the stomach.
I hit the ground with a grunt, breath gone, pride bruised. The backyard grass felt way harder than it should've.
"Again," she said, standing over me with zero remorse. "Get up."
I glared at her. "Maybe warn me next time?"
She didn't smile. "The next thing that tries to kill you won't."
Fair point.
I pushed myself up, wincing. My ribs still ached from yesterday's… Hellspawn incident. The fire inside me hadn't cooled either. If anything, it was closer to the surface now—like a second heartbeat under my skin.
Aria circled me, eyes cold and calculating. "You've had power for two days. That's two days longer than most Hell-born ever get before they're eaten alive."
"Such an uplifting pep talk," I muttered.
She stopped in front of me. "Hellfire responds to emotion. The more unstable you are, the more likely you are to burn yourself—and everyone around you."
That shut me up.
"You need control," she continued. "Discipline. Focus."
"Okay, so how do I—"
She swung at my head.
I ducked on reflex.
The flames flared.
We trained for hours. Or maybe minutes. Time lost all meaning somewhere between the third fireball and the fifth insult.
She didn't hold back.
And neither did I.
I blasted, burned, and bled.Each strike peeled back something inside me—fear, doubt, restraint.
The fire wasn't a weapon.It was me.
After what felt like forever, I collapsed under the shade of the oak tree, chest heaving. My hoodie was scorched at the sleeves, and I reeked of smoke.
Aria sat beside me—not close, but not far either.
"You're improving," she said, almost like it hurt to admit it.
"Thanks," I panted. "I'll add that to my résumé. Prince of Hell. Also did push-ups once."
A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.
I stared at the sky for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then I asked the question that had been clawing at me since the fight yesterday.
"Why now?"
She turned. "What do you mean?"
"Why attack me now? The seal's been on me my whole life. Why not sooner?"
Her expression darkened.
"Because the Thrones finally felt your fire."
I blinked. "The what now?"
She looked at me—serious. Unblinking.
"The Four Thrones. The ancient pillars of Hell's hierarchy. They kept things stable while your father vanished."
"Wait—are they demons?"
"Demons?" She laughed bitterly. "They are Hell. Older than most gods. Their power is absolute. And they fear you."
"…Why?"
"Because your existence threatens their rule. Lucifer may have left the throne empty, but the moment you claim it—"She leaned in."—you undo everything they've built."
"Okay," I said slowly. "But what if I don't want the throne?"
"It doesn't matter."She stood."Fate isn't waiting."
Later that night, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, towel draped around my neck. Steam curled around me. My skin still buzzed with heat.
I stared at my reflection. Same eyes. Same jawline. Same scar on my left eyebrow from that time I fell off my bike in fifth grade.
But it wasn't the same.
Not anymore.
I raised my hand. Fire sparked along my palm, dancing without burning.
It felt like breathing.
And yet... it still didn't feel whole.
Like I was only scratching the surface of something vast and terrifying beneath me.
Mom knocked once, then stepped in without waiting.
She held a box.
Old. Wooden. Locked with a seal that shimmered with gold and black runes.
"This was left for you," she said. "By him. The day you were born."
I turned slowly. "You're only giving it to me now?"
"It wasn't meant to open until your fire awakened." She handed it to me. "It's time."
I sat on the edge of my bed, the box heavy in my hands.
I traced the seal.
It melted under my touch.
Inside… was a single item.
A letter.
And a medallion—black iron, engraved with the crown of horns.
I opened the letter, breath caught in my chest.
"My son,
If you're reading this, it means the fire has found you.
I am not dead. But I am not free. The Thrones saw to that.
You were born with the strength to eclipse even me. But that power will destroy you without understanding.
Learn who you are. Trust no angel. Trust few demons. And never, never speak your true name aloud.
It is the key. And the lock.
Remember this:You are not just a prince.You are the flame they couldn't extinguish."
—L.
I read it again.
And again.
My hands trembled.
"True name?" I whispered.
Mom looked pale. "Your father named you something no one on Earth should know. Names have power. Especially for beings like us."
"What is it?"
She shook her head. "You'll remember it. When the time's right. But until then… don't go looking. You're not ready."
That night, I slept uneasily. Dreams twisted into visions.
I saw flames consuming a mountain.A crown falling from a cliff into darkness.A woman in white, bleeding light, whispering a name I couldn't hear.
And at the center of it all—me.
Alone. On a throne of ash.
And then a voice—his voice—called out from the abyss:
"Wake up, Kai. They've found you."
I shot up in bed.
And then—
CRASH.
Glass shattered downstairs.
A roar shook the house.
Mom screamed.
I bolted into the hallway just as the front door exploded inward.
And stepping through the smoke—
Clad in obsidian armor, eyes like burning coals, wings like shredded leather—
Was a demon.
But not just any demon.
This one knelt.
And growled:
"At last. The heir lives. Forgive me, my prince… but I must kill you."