“Then I am yours,” I whispered. “I will be the weapon you crave. I will do what you ask — once he’s safe.”
He rose from the throne.
Every step he took was heavy with power, the floor beneath his boots cracking. When he reached me, he stopped only inches away.
“You would give yourself to darkness… for love?” he asked, voice softer now, almost reverent.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
He nodded once.
“Then I accept your terms.”
“And no one else gets hurt,” I added sharply. “My friends, my people — they are not pawns.”
Another smile. This one sharper.
“As you wish… daughter.”
I stood taller, fists clenched at my sides.
“I will burn down heaven and hell,” I said, voice like steel, “if it means he lives.”
The Demon King extended his hand.
“Then let us begin.”
And as I placed mine in his, something deep within me — something ancient — stirred.
Not fear.
Not regret.
Power.
And the scream of a dying oath that was no longer mine.
Rheon
Steel before the storm
The campfire cracked low, casting golden shadows across the broken stone. The wind here was sharper—full of ancient things that breathed through the crags of the Demon Realm like forgotten gods whispering warnings. But it wasn’t the ghosts of this place that kept the air so heavy.
It was them.
Minji sat polishing the edge of a dagger that didn’t need polishing. Her eyes were distant, lips pressed together in a grim line. Yuna leaned against a moss-covered rock, trying—and failing—not to keep glancing toward the horizon. Every time she touched the glowing mark on her collarbone, her hand trembled.
I saw it.
I felt it. The pain. The ache of something both beautiful and unbearable. I let out a quiet breath and knelt between them. They didn’t look at me—not right away—but they stilled at the sound of my voice.
“You’re both thinking about them,” I said softly. “Aren’t you?”
Yuna’s eyes glistened.
“No, I’m—”
“Don’t lie,” I interrupted gently. “You feel it. The mark doesn’t let you forget. It doesn’t fade. It only waits.”
