The battlefield was bathed in blood.
The sky, once alight with divine energy, had turned crimson as the last of the celestial warriors fell. The Demon Prince, Kael, stood amidst the ruins, his obsidian blade dripping with the life of his enemies. His breath was ragged, his body battered, but none of it mattered.
Because she was dying.
Elara lay in the ruins of the temple, her golden armor cracked, her once-blazing sapphire eyes dimming. Her hands trembled as she pressed against the wound on her side, her life slipping between her fingers. Alden, the celestial knight, knelt beside her, his own body barely holding on, yet his hands clutched hers as if willing fate to change.
Kael had fought for her. Killed for her. Loved her in the only way he knew how. But she had never been his.
He staggered toward them, his own wounds forgotten. "Elara…"
She turned her face to him, her lips parted as if she wanted to speak. But instead, she looked at Alden.
Kael knew that gaze too well. It had never been his to receive.
Alden, even in his dying breath, reached up to touch Elara's cheek, whispering, "We'll meet again."
The words sent a cold blade through Kael's heart.
And then the sky split open. The gods had chosen their judgment. Divine fire rained down upon them, consuming the battlefield, the warriors, and the three souls entwined by love and war.
Kael's last thought before the flames took him was not of vengeance, nor hatred.
It was of regret.
—❖—
Centuries Later
The world had changed, but nightmares remained.
Raziel's eyes shot open as he gasped for breath. His body, drenched in sweat, ached as if he had just been struck down in battle. He clenched the silk sheets of his bed, struggling to anchor himself in the present.
He was no longer Kael, the Demon Prince of the lost age.
But the memories—the pain, the longing—remained.
Raziel exhaled sharply and rose from his bed, stepping toward the balcony. The cold night air brushed against his skin as he looked out at the city below—Mournhollow, the heart of the new demon empire.
He had been reborn. But unlike others, he remembered. Every moment. Every wound. Every whisper of her name.
Seraphina.
He had found her again. Not as a princess of the celestial realm, but as a battle-hardened mage in a world where gods and demons were now mere myths.
This time, he would not lose her.
This time, fate would not steal her away.
And if the heavens themselves stood in his way—
Then he would burn them to the ground.
—❖—