> "Some lovers make you feel alive. Others set you on fire and dare you to survive it."
---
The gods were gone.
The air reeked of scorched divinity, the soil still warm from where divine bodies had bled onto it. Trees stood burnt at their edges, and even the shadows seemed unsure whether to return.
In the middle of the chaos, Dominic lay cradled in Lyra's arms—unmoving, barely breathing, his body slick with sweat and shimmering with a strange celestial hue.
He wasn't dead.
But he wasn't fully human anymore either.
"Wake up," Lyra whispered, brushing his hair from his forehead.
He didn't stir.
She pressed her lips to his, murmuring an incantation through the kiss.
Magic pulsed.
Dominic gasped—his back arched, a sharp cry escaping his lips as golden fire raced across his chest like a heartbeat being restarted by lightning.
Lyra held him, tight, anchoring him to her.
"It's done," she whispered, voice trembling. "You're mine now."
---
When Dominic opened his eyes, the sky had turned violet.
He blinked slowly, his vision blurry, his body thrumming like a struck chord.
"I… feel strange."
Lyra nodded. "Because you're no longer just a man."
He sat up, holding his head.
Memories rushed in—flashes of gods screaming, Lyra standing above him like an avenging queen, her mouth stained with divine blood.
"I killed them?"
She took a breath. "We did. You absorbed their essence. Their power. Their truth."
He stared at his hands, flexing them. "I don't feel like myself."
"You're not. You're more."
He turned to her.
"You don't seem scared."
"I'm not," she said, tracing a fingertip across his jaw. "I'm wet."
Dominic blinked.
And then laughed, low and surprised.
"You're unbelievable."
"I just watched you destroy gods and rise reborn in my arms," she said, eyes gleaming. "You think I'd be scared? No. I want you. Right now."
He didn't need more prompting.
---
The way he kissed her this time was different. There was more reverence, more control, but also more raw need. His mouth tasted like lightning. His fingers sparked every time they grazed her skin. The air crackled between them.
He kissed her neck, trailing lower, untying her corset with trembling hands.
"You're shaking," she teased.
"Because you terrify me."
"I should."
He pinned her down gently, lips brushing her collarbone. "You're everything I never believed existed. You cursed me."
"You liked it."
He slid inside her without another word.
And she screamed—not in pain, but in ecstasy.
Every movement from him now felt divine, carved from both lust and reverence. His body moved like it had learned how to make love from watching stars collide. Every thrust was a prayer. Every kiss was a confession.
They didn't just make love.
They unmade time.
---
When they collapsed in the grass, sweat-slicked and shivering, Lyra was the first to speak.
"You're not just different," she said. "You're dangerous."
Dominic turned his head, looking at her. "To you?"
"To everyone else."
He nodded slowly.
"You feel it too," she whispered.
"Yes. There's something inside me now. Something loud."
"What is it saying?"
He turned toward her fully.
"That it wants more."
---
They returned to the ruins of her tower.
It was no longer a sanctuary. The stones whispered. The mirrors had cracked. Magic trembled at the edges of the walls like it was scared of itself.
Lyra had only felt this kind of tremor once before.
The night she killed the first man she ever loved.
She watched Dominic as he walked. The way the air moved around him. The faint trail of light his fingers left when he touched the doorframe. He wasn't glowing anymore—but he was still lit from within.
"You need a warding," she murmured.
"I need you."
"Same thing."
She smiled faintly and led him into the bathing chamber, filled the tub with moonwater and petals, and slowly began to wash his body.
But the water steamed when it touched his skin.
She touched his collar—still gleaming—and sighed.
"Whatever this crown is… it's making you into something that's not entirely mine."
Dominic caught her wrist.
"I'm still yours."
"For now."
He frowned. "You think I'll change?"
"No," she said, voice quiet. "I know you already have."
---
Over the next few days, the dreams began.
Lyra would wake with scratch marks down her spine that she didn't remember earning. Dominic would sleepwalk to the top of the tower, eyes glowing, mouth chanting in a forgotten tongue. The shadows moved unnaturally.
And the worst part?
He kept getting stronger.
Lyra tried to anchor him.
Tried to keep his body grounded in routine—sex, spells, laughter, memory.
She made him food. Told him stories of her youth. Cursed him when he started levitating in his sleep.
But something was unraveling in him.
And she was starting to think… she might not be able to fix it.
---
One evening, she found him standing naked in the moonlight, staring into the distance.
"What do you see?" she asked.
He didn't turn. "A throne."
She stepped forward. "Where?"
"Everywhere."
She hesitated. "That scares me."
He turned now.
And smiled.
But it wasn't quite his smile.
"I don't want to sit," he said. "I want to burn it down."
---
They made love again that night, harder than before.
Dominic gripped her wrists too tightly, kissed her too fiercely, moaned her name like he was drowning. Lyra wrapped her legs around him, grounding him with her body, refusing to let the divine inside him tear away what was real.
When he came, it was like a storm broke in his soul.
He collapsed on top of her, panting.
And cried.
"I don't know who I am anymore," he whispered.
She kissed his forehead.
"You're mine."
---
But the next morning, someone knocked at their door.
A woman.
Tall. Red hair. Eyes like fire.
Dominic opened the door and went still.
The woman smiled.
"Took you long enough," she said. "I'm here for my king."
Lyra appeared behind him, naked, biting into an apple. "He's taken."
The woman's eyes glinted. "We'll see about that."
---
Her name was The First Flame.
And she had come to reclaim what Lyra had stolen.
Dominic.