The Gate closed behind Liora with a sound like thunder swallowed by silence.
When she opened her eyes again, she stood at the edge of a vast hall that stretched into eternity. The air shimmered like smoke caught in glass, and thousands of candles burned with black flames that gave off no heat. The walls were alive with carvings that shifted when she blinked—faces of mortals and monsters, angels and traitors, all staring down at her with judgment.
At the far end of the hall stood a dais of dark stone, and upon it a throne carved from bone and obsidian. Beside it rested another, smaller seat, woven from silver branches and crowned with thorns.
The moment Liora entered, the hall erupted.
Not with applause. Not with song. But with shadows.
They poured in from the corners, twisting into shapes both beautiful and grotesque. Horned demons with molten eyes, spirits cloaked in tattered veils, creatures of smoke, and those that looked almost human but not quite. Each bowed their head as Lucien entered behind her, his presence commanding silence.
"She has chosen," Lucien's voice rang out, soft yet heavy enough to still the air. "By pact and by will, she is mine. By flame and by shadow, she is yours."
The creatures roared—not in rage, but in approval. The hall shook with the sound of a thousand voices chanting, "Queen, Queen, Queen."
Liora's breath caught. She wanted to run, but her legs held firm. The crown on her head pulsed like a heartbeat, reminding her of the path she had claimed.
Lucien stepped forward, extending his hand. "Come."
She placed her fingers in his, and together they walked the length of the hall. The whispers followed—murmurs of awe, hunger, jealousy. She could feel the eyes of every soul, every monster, burning into her skin. Yet she lifted her chin higher. If she must stand in Hell, she would not stand small.
When they reached the dais, Lucien turned her to face the crowd.
"Witness the joining," he declared. His voice was not thunder but velvet iron. "This mortal has stepped beyond fear, beyond pact, beyond fate. She has crowned herself by choice. She is no longer of the earth. She is mine. And I—" he paused, his silver eyes meeting hers, "—am hers."
The hall rumbled with an unnatural wind. A figure cloaked in gray smoke emerged from the shadows. Its face was hidden, but its voice carried the weight of eternity.
"By pact sealed in blood, by oath bound in fire, by name written in ash—let it be done."
The being extended a dagger made of crystal flame. Liora's eyes widened, but Lucien took it without hesitation. He turned his palm up, slicing across it. Silver fire bled from the wound. Then he held the dagger out to her.
Liora stared. "You want me to—"
"Cut," Lucien said gently. "Only if you will."
Her hand trembled. She had seen blood before—her own, others'. But this was no mortal cut. This was a binding. A sealing.
She swallowed, lifted the dagger, and drew it across her palm. No red blood flowed—only green light, shimmering like the glow of her village hills at dawn. The crowd gasped, voices shifting into chaos. Even Lucien's eyes narrowed, intrigued.
He took her hand and pressed it to his own wound.
Silver fire met green light.
The flames intertwined, twisting, weaving into one. The air grew heavy, alive with power. A symbol formed above them—half crown, half key—and burned into the chamber ceiling.
The gray figure's voice rang again. "It is done. By fire and by will, by blood and by flame, the Devil has wed his bride. Long may they reign."
The shadows erupted into sound—cheers, screams, wails that rattled the hall. Some bowed. Others clawed at the air in frenzy. A few hissed with envy. But all acknowledged her.
Liora felt dizzy. The crown glowed hotter, the key at her side pulsed. She looked at Lucien, who had not let go of her hand. His silver eyes studied her not as a possession, but as an equal.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "You wear fire well."
Her heart jumped, but she masked it with a smirk. "I suppose I'll get used to it."
He chuckled, low and dark, and turned back to his court. "Bow to your queen," he commanded.
And they did.
Every shadow, every monster, every soul in the chamber lowered itself until only Lucien and Liora remained standing.
For the first time, she felt it. Not fear. Not dread. But power.
And yet, deep in her chest, a question still lingered.
What have I truly become?