Episode 1- The Devil's Bride (It's half of the episode)

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.

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