Darkness.

It wrapped around her like a curse. The air stung her lungs with every breath — thick, hot, and heavy like fire in disguise. Aeris coughed and stumbled to her knees on cracked black stone that radiated heat.

Chains slithered over her wrists, glowing faint red like iron fresh from the forge.

She looked around, dazed. This wasn’t the forest ruins where she’d dared to explore. This was... somewhere else. Somewhere wrong. The sky above was blackened, and the land groaned with something alive — something furious.

Then she saw him.

A towering figure stood ahead, surrounded by a swirling storm of embers. Wings stretched wide, casting jagged shadows against the flames. His body was chiseled like stone, inked with ancient symbols and shadows that moved like they were alive. But it was his eyes — burning crimson, ancient and cruel — that froze her.

The devil.

The one she was warned never to awaken.

The one from the old legends she mocked.

“You broke the seal,” he spoke, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. “You released me.”

Aeris stared. “Oops?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Listen,” she began, raising a hand with the same care one might use with a wild animal. “That was... probably an accident.”

“You performed the ritual.”

“I was just exploring!” she protested. “Messing around. I didn’t think that old circle would work!”

“You spoke the incantation.”

“I mispronounced half of it!”

He took one slow step forward. The heat intensified.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Unsealed a centuries-old grump in a lava cave?” she muttered under her breath. Then louder, “Seriously, calm down. I’ll just... put you back?”

He stopped. His mouth curled slightly — not a smile. A warning.

“You freed the King of Hell. And you insult me?”

Aeris scoffed, defiant despite the fear clawing at her chest. “Well, technically I saved your royal butt. You’re welcome.”

Silence.

And then—

Chains flew, wrapping around her waist and yanking her toward him. Her feet scraped against the stone, breath caught in her throat.

“I could kill you,” he growled, inches from her. “Snap your neck before you scream.”

“Yet here I am. Breathing.” She looked him in the eye, fierce. “Why?”

He tilted his head. “Because you belong to me now.”

“Excuse me?”

“You broke my seal. You offered your blood in the ritual. You. Are. Mine.”

Aeris blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh please. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. What am I — your hellish house pet?”

Lucien — the Devil himself — looked stunned. For a second. Then furious.

“You dare mock me?!”

“Well, you’re dramatic,” she said, grinning. “It’s kind of cute, actually.”

The ground trembled beneath them.

He raised his hand, and the chains tightened. Pain shot through her arms as she dropped to her knees.

“You’ll regret those words, little human.”

“Probably,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “But not today.”

Then she smirked. Even chained in hellfire, she never bowed.

ADd 1–2 short lines like:

“To be continued...”

“She didn’t know her real nightmare had only begun.”

“This was only the beginning.”

The world didn’t stop for her mistake—

It burned.

She thought the ancient ruin was just a myth. A broken temple buried in dust and silence. The villagers feared it, called it cursed, begged her not to go near it. But she was stubborn—reckless—and didn’t believe in fairy tales or forbidden legends. Warnings were nothing but old tales to her ears.

So, she stepped onto the altar.

She whispered the strange inscription for fun.

And something beneath the earth—something furious—awoke.

Now, she knelt in a place not meant for mortals. A grand throne room built from shadow and bone. Black stone pillars twisted toward a ceiling lost in smoke, and the air crackled with heat, as if the ground itself breathed fire. Her wrists were shackled by glowing red chains that pulsed with dark magic. Her pride was bruised, but not broken.

Before her, the devil sat—beautiful, terrible, otherworldly.

He lounged on a throne of obsidian and fire, shirtless, long dark hair flowing like liquid night. Crimson eyes bore into her, filled with hatred—and curiosity. Shadows coiled around him like living snakes. His very presence made the air grow heavy, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he asked, voice sharp and ancient, echoing through the hall like a curse.

She looked up, bloody lip twitching into a smirk. “Yeah,” she said. “I woke up a shirtless demon with anger issues.”

The silence was deadly.

Then, without warning, she was hurled backward by a wave of invisible force. Her back hit the cold stone wall with a thud, and stars danced in her eyes. Pain laced her spine, but even as she groaned, she laughed.

“Touched a nerve, huh?” she rasped.

The devil rose. His footsteps echoed like thunder as he walked toward her. He crouched beside her, his face a mask of wrath and something darker.

“You mock me,” he growled. “You dare to speak so casually to your master?”

“I don’t kneel for monsters,” she snapped, glaring at him. “Especially the ones who throw tantrums.”

His eyes flared. “You released me. That makes you mine.”

“Then take me,” she hissed. “Kill me. I’d rather die than serve you.”

But instead of rage, he smiled. Slow. Cruel.

“No,” he whispered. “Death would be a gift. And I’m not feeling generous.”

He stood again, gaze burning holes into her soul. “You’ll live—and every breath will remind you that your freedom is gone. You are nothing here. Nothing but my prisoner.”

She clenched her fists, teeth grinding—but she didn’t cry. She didn’t beg.

And something about that made him pause.

His expression shifted. Just a flicker—was it surprise? Confusion?

Then it vanished.

“You’ll break soon enough,” he said coldly. “They all do.”

---

Far away, a pair of green glowing eyes watched them through a dark mirror.

The villain grinned. “She did it,” he whispered. “She actually woke the beast. Now let’s see how long she lasts.”

---

---

The chains around her wrists bit into her skin, pulsing with an enchantment she didn’t understand. Cold stone pressed against her knees, yet her spine remained straight—like defiance was stitched into her bones.

Across the room, cloaked in shadows, he watched.

The devil.

His eyes glowed like dying embers in a fire long since turned to ash. Silent. Powerful. Ancient. He had destroyed kingdoms for sport—yet here he was, silently observing the girl who’d accidentally freed him.

A girl who dared to mock him... and live.

He finally spoke, voice silk wrapped in iron.

“You wear your rebellion like armor. But underneath it, you're trembling.”

She laughed—not loud, but sharp, bitter.

“Trembling?” She met his gaze. “If I feared you, I wouldn’t have insulted your horns.”

He moved closer, silent as smoke.

“You don’t get to joke. You’re mine now.”

She clenched her jaw but said nothing.

He towered above her now, and for a moment, she thought he might strike her down. But instead, his voice dropped to a near whisper.

“What made you like this, human?”

She blinked. The question didn’t sound curious—it sounded dangerous. But she answered anyway.

“Life.”

He raised a brow. “Be more specific.”

She stared past him, to nothing.

“I was six when they locked me in a cellar.”

His silence was instant.

“My village. They thought I was cursed. Said I was the reason crops failed. Livestock died. My mother... didn’t even look back when they dragged me away.”

The devil’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air around him... stilled.

“I screamed for days,” she went on, her voice even. “Until my throat bled. No one came. It was dark. Wet. The only company I had were rats. I named them. At least they didn’t lie to me.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Funny, huh? I played with bones. Talked to shadows. Learned to listen when the wind whispered.”

His fists slowly curled at his sides.

“When they finally let me out—weeks later—I wasn’t a scared little girl anymore. I was something else. I didn’t cry. Didn’t beg. I ran.”

Silence stretched between them like a blade.

“I survived. So now,” she said, voice hardening, “when someone like you tries to break me, I don’t flinch. Because I already was broken. And I put myself back together.”

She looked up at him, and for the first time... he saw her not as a foolish, reckless mortal—but as a survivor. A fire forged in frost.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

She scoffed. “What? Shocked that a pathetic little human girl has scars deeper than your dungeons?”

He turned away slowly, cloak sweeping behind him. But before stepping into shadow, he said, without looking:

“Pain makes monsters, girl. But you… You wear it like a crown.”

Then he vanished.

---

That night, the guards were ordered not to chain her again.

The door to her chamber... remained unlocked.

And though she didn’t sleep, somewhere in the silence… the devil stood atop the tower, staring out into the black sky—wondering why her words wouldn't leave his mind.