It began subtly.
Shared meals.
Discussions about trade routes between realms.
Arguments — sharp and passionate — about justice and mercy.
Elara challenged him openly in council. At first, the demon nobles bristled. But Malakar allowed it.
More than that — he listened.
One night, a tremor shook the mountain. A fissure opened in the lower caverns, threatening to unleash uncontrolled lava into a nearby human village.
Malakar prepared to seal it alone.
"You'll burn," Elara warned.
"I am fire."
But she followed him anyway.
Heat roared around them as they reached the chasm. The crack pulsed with violent energy — unstable magic.
"It's not natural," Elara realized. "Someone is weakening the barrier between realms."
Malakar placed his hands against the stone, channeling his power. The cavern blazed with blinding light.
The strain showed on his face.
Without thinking, Elara stepped forward and grasped his arm.
The moment she touched him, something extraordinary happened.
Her skin did not burn.
Instead, cool silver light flowed from her into him.
The fissure sealed with a thunderous crack.
Silence followed.
Malakar stared at her, astonished.
"You carry celestial blood," he murmured.
Elara blinked. "What?"
"The prophecy," he whispered. "Flame weds breath."
In that moment, something shifted between them — no longer obligation, but wonder.