The sky did not heal.
The divine symbol burned above the abyss like a wound that refused to close—an intricate sigil of blinding white-gold, etched across crimson clouds. Its light did not belong in the demon realm. It hurt to look at. It hurt more to feel.
Elara felt it pulsing in her bones.
She stood on the highest balcony of the palace, Kaelthar beside her, the abyssal city stretching endlessly below. Demons filled the streets, staring upward in fearful silence. No cheers. No rage.
Only dread.
"A god marked the sky," Elara whispered. "Because of me."
Kaelthar did not deny it.
"Yes."
Her fingers tightened on the stone railing. "What happens now?"
He turned toward her, his expression unreadable. "Now they test whether you are worth killing… or claiming."
A chill ran through her.
Before she could ask what that meant, the air split.
Light poured in like liquid glass, slicing through shadow. The divine sigil flared brighter, and from its center descended a figure wreathed in blinding radiance.
The ground trembled.
Demons fell to their knees as if struck by an unseen force.
An angel.
Tall, genderless, beautiful in a way that felt wrong—too perfect, too smooth. Six wings of white fire folded behind its back, each feather etched with scripture that burned the eyes.
Elara's breath caught painfully.
The angel's gaze locked onto her.
Not Kaelthar.
Her.
"Arbiter-blooded one," the angel intoned. Its voice echoed directly inside her skull. "You exist in defiance of divine decree."
Kaelthar stepped forward instantly, shadows coiling around him like living armor.
"You stand in my realm uninvited," he said coldly. "Speak quickly, envoy. Or burn."
The angel did not look at him.
"The gods acknowledge your claim, Demon King," it said. "But she does not belong to you."
Elara felt pressure crush her chest.
"Return her," the angel continued. "And your realm will be spared judgment."
Silence followed.
Then Kaelthar laughed.
It was soft.
Deadly.
"You mistake restraint for fear," he said. "You will not take her."
The angel's wings flared.
"Then this realm will fall."
Something ancient stirred inside Elara.
Not rage.
Not fear.
Understanding.
She stepped forward.
Kaelthar's hand snapped out, gripping her wrist. "Elara—"
"It's alright," she said softly.
The golden light rose—not violently, not defensively.
Balanced.
The angel finally hesitated.
Elara looked directly at it.
"I won't go with you," she said. "Not because I belong to him—but because I choose my own fate."
The air shuddered.
The angel recoiled slightly, light flickering.
"Choice is not permitted," it said.
Elara smiled faintly.
"Then the gods made a mistake creating me."
The divine light collapsed inward.
Not destroyed.
Dismissed.
The angel vanished in a burst of fractured radiance, leaving the sky trembling and scarred.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then the demon realm erupted.
Not in chaos.
In division.
Some demons bowed deeply toward Elara, eyes burning with awe.
Others looked at her with naked terror.
And some—like Varyx—looked at her with hatred sharpened into resolve.
The council gathered that night.
Elara stood at Kaelthar's side as demon lords argued openly now, no longer hiding their intentions.
"She will bring annihilation!"
"She defied the gods!"
"She could free us from divine chains!"
"She must be bound—or killed!"
Kaelthar listened in silence.
Then he stood.
The chamber fell quiet instantly.
"She is my queen," he said. "And by abyssal law, any who plot her death plot treason."
Varyx sneered. "And if the gods come in force?"
Kaelthar's eyes burned.
"Then we kill gods."
The words hit like thunder.
After the council dispersed, Elara found herself alone with him in the inner sanctum. The tension between them felt heavier now—charged, intimate, dangerous.
"You shouldn't have spoken to the angel," Kaelthar said quietly.
"You shouldn't have threatened a god," she replied.
He studied her for a long moment.
"You didn't hesitate," he said. "You weren't afraid."
"I was," she admitted. "I just refused to let them decide for me."
He stepped closer.
"So did I."
They stood inches apart.
The pull between them surged—no longer just curiosity or protection, but something sharper. Something undeniable.
"You calm the power," he said softly. "But you also awaken it."
"And you anchor me," she whispered. "But you're also my greatest temptation."
His breath slowed.
"Say the word," he murmured. "And I will stop."
She didn't.
Instead, she reached up—hesitant, unsure—and touched his chest.
The golden light did not flare.
It softened.
Kaelthar exhaled sharply and rested his forehead against hers, his hands braced on either side of her, not touching.
"This bond," he said quietly, "will damn us."
"Or save us," she replied.
Outside, the sky cracked again.
This time, it wasn't divine light that bled through.
It was darkness older than gods.
And something in the void had begun to move—drawn by her existence.