Episode 1A – The Devil’s Bride

Lyra stared into the tall mirror, but the girl looking back at her felt like a stranger.

A red gown with golden embroidery clung to her frame, each stitch woven with chains she could not see but could feel in her soul. A crown of gold and crystals rested on her head, so heavy she feared it would crush her beneath its weight.

She looked like a queen, but her heart screamed like a caged bird.

Her lips trembled as she whispered to herself, I am not his. I will never be his.

Her cheeks were flushed, not with the joy of a bride, but with rage—raw and burning. Rage at the devil who had stolen her life in a single night. Rage at her own helplessness. Rage at the betrayal that had left her with no choice but this.

A tear slid down her cheek. She shut her eyes tightly, summoning memories of the world she had lost—the soft laughter of friends, her family’s warm embrace, the smell of the gardens she once ran through freely.

All of it felt like a dream now.

A dream shattered the moment Rhazeal appeared in her life.

She thought of heaven and how far it had slipped from her reach.

She would never see it again. Not after marrying a devil.

A soft knock at the door.

“Milady… it’s time,” the maid whispered, voice trembling as though she, too, feared the master of this realm.

Lyra rose to her feet, every step toward the door heavy with dread.

The grand doors opened, and a wave of heat and shadow rolled over her.

The Wedding of Shadows

The hall stretched before her, drenched in black and red roses, their scent thick and cloying.

Dark smoke curled around the tall pillars, and obsidian chandeliers flickered with ghostly blue fire. This was not a wedding hall—it was a prison dressed as a palace.

Her first step onto the black carpet felt like stepping onto fire.

Pain lanced up her bare feet, but she didn’t falter.

At the end of the hall, Rhazeal waited.

Tall, imposing, and draped in ceremonial black embroidered with silver threads that shimmered under the torchlight, he was a living shadow. His crimson eyes locked on her the moment she appeared.

Every step she took toward him was met with his unwavering stare, as though he was watching the most precious treasure he had ever claimed.

When she finally reached him, he leaned in just enough for his voice to brush her ear.

“You are mine now,” he whispered, velvet and steel.

“Admit it or not… you belong to me.”

Lyra’s fingers curled into fists beneath her gown. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

The ceremony began.

Shadows gathered like silent witnesses as the priest read the vows.

“Do you vow to protect each other, to remain by one another’s side, no matter the storms that may come?”

Lyra hesitated, her chest tight.

Her heart screamed No!—but her voice betrayed her.

“I… do.”

The words tasted like poison.

Rhazeal’s voice followed, low and unshaken.

“I do.”

The black ribbon bound their hands, sealing the vow.

Cold applause filled the hall, echoing in her chest like a death knell.

Lyra had married the devil… and her real nightmare was only beginning.

🌹 Episode 1 – The Devil’s Bride (Part 2)

The black silk ribbon slipped from her hands, and the hall grew silent.

The ceremony was over.

Lyra was no longer a free girl.

She was the devil’s bride.

Her legs felt like stone as she walked down the endless corridor. Her golden crown weighed heavier with every step, as if each jewel was a chain holding her here.

She pushed open a balcony door and stumbled outside.

The night air was cold, carrying the faint scent of roses from the cursed garden below.

She gripped the railing, staring up at the lonely moon.

A sob tore from her throat.

“My heaven…” she whispered into the night.

“I want to go home…”

Her tears came fast now, streaking her cheeks and wetting the jeweled collar of her gown.

She remembered the garden she used to run through, barefoot and laughing.

The warm kitchen where her mother baked bread.

Her father’s voice calling her name with pride.

All of it—

Gone.

Stolen.

Shattered the moment Rhazeal appeared in her life.

Her chest burned with rage beneath the grief.

“I will never love you,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

“Even if I live in this cage for eternity… I will hate you until my last breath.”

The wind carried her vow into the night.

She pressed her forehead to the cold stone, trembling.

“I swear… I will never forgive you. Not in this life. Not in the next. Never.”

The words felt like fire in her throat, but she clung to them.

It was the only piece of herself she had left—her hate, her refusal to belong to him.

From the shadows of the corridor, Rhazeal watched her.

The silver moonlight painted her figure in a soft glow, a vision of a bird with broken wings.

He had taken everything from her.

And yet… he could not step forward.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to brush away her tears.

But he stayed in the darkness, his crimson eyes glowing faintly.

She hated him.

He could feel it from here.

And still… his heart throbbed with something he had never known.

He needed her.

He needed her laughter, her light, her presence

Even her tears were keeping him alive.

Lyra sobbed harder, gripping the railing.

“I wish I’d never met you… I wish I’d died before this day…”

The words stabbed him silently, but he didn’t move.

He didn’t know how to love without destroying.

He didn’t know how to hold her without hurting her.

So he watched her cry,

silent and invisible,

letting the cold night swallow his guilt.

Finally, her body weakened from the sobs. She slid to the floor of the balcony, hugging her knees.

Her voice was just a broken whisper now:

“Someone… anyone… save me…”

Rhazeal’s hands curled into fists in the darkness.

He couldn’t save her from himself.

Not tonight.

He took one step back, letting the shadows hide him completely,

but his crimson eyes never wavered.

She would never know…

that every tear she shed tonight was the only thing keeping his hollow heart alive.

🌑 To be continued…

Episode 2 – The Devil’s Claim

The night swallowed the world in darkness, broken only by the glint of the black iron gates that loomed before Lyra. They groaned open with a metallic scream that scraped against her bones.

Her wrists burned where Rhazeal’s hand gripped her, unyielding as steel. She stumbled over the cobblestone driveway, dragged toward the mansion that rose like a predator against the starless sky. Its windows glimmered faintly, like eyes watching her approach.

The moment his grip loosened, Lyra spun and struck.

Her fist collided with his chest—not enough to harm, but enough to shock him into a step back.

“Let me go, you monster!” she spat, her voice trembling with rage, not fear.

Rhazeal arched a brow, and the corners of his lips lifted in dark amusement. “Feisty…” His voice dripped like silk over a blade. “I like that.”

Lyra didn’t care. Her veins surged with adrenaline. She lunged at him, nails slashing at the air. He sidestepped smoothly, his coat swirling like a shadow.

“Good,” he murmured, watching her spin for another strike. “Keep fighting. I want to see your fire.”

Her heel connected with his shin, and he let out a sharp exhale—not pain, but surprise. She didn’t pause; her elbow shot up toward his jaw. He caught her wrist midair, his fingers locking like iron around her skin.

“Clever little dove,” he said with a smirk. “But not clever enough.”

Lyra snarled and kicked at his stomach, forcing him a step back. For a heartbeat, victory sparked in her chest.

She didn’t run.

She attacked again.

Her fist grazed his jaw, leaving a faint red line. Rhazeal’s smirk widened into something wickedly impressed. Slowly, deliberately, he licked the blood from his lip, his black eyes glinting under the mansion lights.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “You fight like a cornered wolf.”

“I will never be yours!” Lyra roared, every muscle burning as she swung again.

Inside, her thoughts screamed.

I can’t let him see fear. He wants me afraid. He wants me to break.

Not me. Not ever.

Every movement was fueled by fury. She thought of her home, the life ripped from her hands, the silent vow she had made to herself long ago—No one will cage me. No one.

Her attacks grew wilder, faster, but her breaths turned shallow. Her arms ached. Her legs trembled. She wouldn’t stop. She refused to stop, even as her lungs burned for air.

Rhazeal watched her closely, almost mesmerized.

Most begged.

Most cried.

Most fainted within seconds.

But this girl… she refused to surrender.

Her hair whipped around her face, eyes blazing with a fire that clawed at something deep in his chest—a place he hadn’t felt in years.

She’s magnificent, he thought, the words a dangerous whisper in his mind.

My little warrior.

Finally, her foot slipped on the polished marble of the grand hall. She stumbled, knees hitting the cold floor. She still tried to rise, pushing herself up with trembling arms.

“Damn… you…” she panted, fists still curling, ready to fight.

Rhazeal crouched beside her, his usual cruel smirk softening for the first time. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her damp forehead, his touch almost gentle.

“Careful, little dove,” he murmured, voice velvet and low. “You’ll hurt yourself before I ever could.”

Lyra’s vision blurred. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was his dark silhouette leaning over her, his eyes unreadable.

Rhazeal’s POV:

He lifted her effortlessly into his arms. She was light, but her presence weighed heavily in his chest.

Her head lolled against his shoulder, and he could feel the faint tremor of her breath. Her fists were still half-closed, like she’d rise and fight him again the moment she woke.

What a creature you are, he thought, walking up the stairs with measured steps.

Not a dove. A hawk… caught in the devil’s hands.

He laid her on the massive velvet bed, the crimson sheets swallowing her small frame. He studied her face for a long moment, tracing every line without touching.

Sweat beaded along her temple. A smear of dust darkened her cheek from the marble floor. Her lips parted slightly as she breathed in uneven rhythms.

Even in defeat, you look like a queen refusing to kneel.

He fetched a warm cloth from the adjoining bath and, without waking her, gently wiped the dirt from her skin. He draped a silk blanket over her before stepping back into the shadows.

The room was silent except for the soft crackle of the fireplace he had ordered lit. He lingered at the doorway, eyes never leaving her.

No chains for this one, he decided silently.

Let her fight. Let her run. I want her to come to me by choice… or break the world trying.

A flicker of warmth—a dangerous, unfamiliar feeling—brushed against his cold heart.

The devil, for once, felt something like… admiration.

Later That Night

Lyra stirred, caught between dreams and reality. She felt warmth—a blanket, a fire—but also anger clawing through her chest. She opened her eyes to find herself in a room that looked like a palace, yet felt like a prison.

Golden mirrors reflected the firelight. Velvet curtains draped the windows, but she could see the black night beyond. A faint scent of him lingered on the air—leather, smoke, and something unnameably dark.

She sat up too quickly, and dizziness washed over her. Her body ached from the fight, but her mind sparked with defiance.

I’ll escape. I’ll make him regret ever touching me.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded toward the door. Locked.

She checked the windows. Bolted.

A growl of frustration slipped through her teeth.

Somewhere in the shadows beyond the door, Rhazeal watched, unseen. His lips curved as he saw her try.

Good. Keep fighting, little warrior. I want to see how far you’ll go.

The war between fire and darkness has officially begun.

Author’s Note to Engage Readers:

💬 If you were Lyra, would you keep fighting or start planning your escape? And do you think the Devil is already falling for his little warrior? Comment your thoughts—I’m reading every single one! ❤