> "When a man becomes a god, love isn't the only thing that burns."
---
The First Flame stood in the doorway, and the world forgot how to breathe.
She didn't need introductions. Her presence alone screamed divinity. Power pulsed from her skin in steady, unbearable waves. Her hair blazed like liquid sunlight, and her golden eyes pinned Dominic like a spear.
Dominic stepped back—not from fear, but something deeper. Recognition.
Lyra moved in front of him, half-dressed and wild-eyed. "He's not yours."
The Flame didn't blink. "He was never yours to keep."
Dominic's voice came low, uncertain. "I… I've seen you before."
"Yes," she smiled. "You were mine once. Before the curse. Before your soul slept inside the body of a broken man."
Lyra snarled, summoning black flame to her fingertips. "Get out."
The First Flame cocked her head. "Oh, darling. You stole a god from his throne and tried to keep him in a cage of flesh and kisses. But he remembers now."
"No," Lyra spat. "He remembers me."
"Then let's test that."
---
The goddess stepped into the room.
The fire didn't scorch the floor—it bent to her. Curled in worship.
Dominic stood frozen, torn between two poles of power—Lyra's shadow and the First Flame's light.
The goddess reached him first.
She touched his chest.
He gasped as golden heat surged through his veins, flooding his mind with memories not his own—kingdoms in the sky, battles fought in silence, nights spent entwined with her on burning thrones.
"Do you remember, my king?" she whispered, lips brushing his ear. "The weight of fire in your palms? The roar of stars when you touched me?"
Dominic's breath hitched.
Lyra grabbed his hand.
"Look at me," she said fiercely. "You're not his. You're yours. You chose me."
He looked between them.
The First Flame laughed. "A mortal's curse and a goddess's bond. Tell me, Dominic—who do you burn for?"
---
The silence was unbearable.
Then Dominic stepped back from them both.
"I need… to think."
Lyra's heart cracked.
But the Flame only smiled. "You'll find your way home, love. You always do."
---
That night, Dominic didn't sleep.
He sat on the roof of the tower, eyes locked on the stars.
Below, Lyra curled on a stone bench, arms wrapped around herself. She wasn't crying. Not yet. But her soul trembled.
She had bound a man's heart.
But she had awakened a god.
And now, another god had come to take him.
---
At dawn, Dominic found her.
She didn't move when he sat beside her.
"Say something," he whispered.
"Did you f*** her?"
Dominic flinched. "No."
"But you wanted to."
He didn't answer.
"That's what gods do, right?" Lyra said bitterly. "Take what glows. Touch what worships. F*** what begs."
He touched her hand. "I didn't want her. I wanted… clarity."
"You looked at her like she was yours."
He sighed. "Because she was. In another life. Another soul."
"Are you still him?"
"I don't know."
---
They didn't make love that morning.
They fought.
Not with fists, but with truth.
Lyra accused. Dominic confessed. Words cut like daggers. Magic flared between them like a volatile storm.
"You changed me!" he shouted.
"I saved you!"
"No, you cursed me into loving you. You bound me!"
"Because you were worth saving!"
"Maybe I didn't want to be saved!"
---
Silence.
Then Dominic stepped back.
And for the first time since they'd met, Lyra saw it—
Fear.
Not of her.
Of himself.
"I can't stay," he said.
Lyra blinked.
"You're leaving me?"
"I need to understand what I am. Who I am."
"And you think she'll help you?"
"She has answers I don't."
"Then go," Lyra spat, voice cracking. "F*** your goddess. Burn your throne. But don't come crawling back when she destroys what's left of you."
He hesitated.
"Don't," she said, turning away. "Go before I change my mind and chain your soul again."
---
Dominic vanished in a flash of gold.
And Lyra crumbled.
---
Two days passed.
She didn't sleep.
She didn't eat.
She barely breathed.
The tower dimmed without him. Her runes refused to glow. Even her magic pulsed slower, like her body mourned the absence of the man she had shaped into a god.
But on the third day, something changed.
She woke up naked, sweat-drenched, magic vibrating through her bones.
A whisper curled against her ear.
"He's crying."
Lyra sat up.
"What?" she hissed.
No one answered.
But the shadows shifted.
And far, far away… something called her name.
---
She found him in a temple made of ash.
Naked.
On his knees.
Covered in burns.
The First Flame stood behind him, a cruel smile on her lips.
"You came," she purred. "Good. I was about to break him entirely."
Lyra stepped forward. "Get away from him."
"He asked for me."
"He asked for help."
"He begged for power."
Lyra knelt beside Dominic.
His lips were cracked. His eyes were dull.
"Lyra," he whispered. "She lied."
"I know."
"She said love was pain. And I believed her."
Lyra touched his face.
"And what do I say?"
He looked into her.
And for the first time in days, he smiled.
"That it's surrender."
---
Lyra stood.
Magic coiled in her veins.
The First Flame raised a brow. "You dare to fight me?"
"I'm not fighting," Lyra said, summoning black fire to her hands.
"I'm winning him back."
---
The duel was chaos.
Fire against flame.
Shadow against sun.
They danced across the temple—goddess and curse—while Dominic watched, stunned, the collar around his throat cracking with every scream.
Lyra dodged a blast of solar energy, rolled, and slammed her palm into the Flame's stomach.
"You took his body," she hissed. "But not his heart."
The Flame snarled. "Then I'll burn it out."
She lunged.
But Lyra was faster.
She kissed her.
Full. Deep. Violent.
The Flame gasped.
And in that moment of shock—Lyra stole her name.
Whispered it.
Crushed it.
Banished it.
---
The goddess screamed.
Her body cracked like porcelain, golden blood spilling.
She vanished in a burst of light.
---
Silence.
Then Dominic groaned.
Lyra rushed to him.
His collar shattered.
And with it—the god inside him screamed.
"Hold me," he begged.
Lyra did.
Wrapped around him, skin to skin.
They collapsed together in the ashes.
And this time—when they made love—it was not about power.
It was not about fire.
It was not even about sex.
It was about returning.
To themselves.
To each other.
To the truth.
---
Later, Dominic whispered:
"Will you curse me again?"
Lyra smiled, brushing ash from his cheek.
"No," she said softly.
"I'll love you instead."