The grand hall of Solmere's palace was eerily silent. The flickering candlelight barely softened the cold air that settled between those present. Princess Evelyne stood before her father, King Aldric, her heart pounding in her chest.
The words he had just spoken refused to sink in.
"You want me to marry a demon?"
King Aldric sighed, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the world pressed upon him. "Not just any demon," he said grimly. "Azrael, the Demon King of the Underworld."
Evelyne felt the breath leave her lungs. The name alone was enough to make battle-hardened warriors tremble. Azrael was no ordinary ruler—he was a conqueror, a warlord, a merciless tyrant who had led countless attacks against humanity.
And now, she was expected to become his wife?
"Father, you can't be serious!" she protested. "He has slaughtered our people! He is a monster!"
King Aldric's face was lined with exhaustion. "Do you think I want this? Do you think I would ever offer you to such a man if I had another choice?" He shook his head. "This war has drained us. Solmere is on the brink of destruction, and the other kingdoms refuse to help. Azrael has offered a truce, but only on one condition—"
"That I become his bride," Evelyne finished bitterly.
Her father's silence was all the confirmation she needed.
Evelyne clenched her fists. "And you trust him? You trust that the Demon King won't go back on his word the moment he gets what he wants?"
"He has sworn it in a blood pact," the king said. "The moment you step into the Underworld as his queen, the war ends."
Her stomach twisted. A blood pact was unbreakable among demons. If Azrael truly bound himself to such an oath, then it meant he was serious.
But why?
Why would a man known for his ruthlessness demand a human wife?
"I won't do it," she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.
The queen, her mother, spoke for the first time. "Evelyne." Her voice was gentle yet firm. "If you refuse, thousands more will die. Can you bear that weight on your conscience?"
Evelyne's throat tightened.
This wasn't a choice. It was a sacrifice.
She took a slow, shaking breath, her nails digging into her palms. "When do I leave?"
"At dawn."
She had one night left in Solmere. One night to say goodbye to the life she knew.
The next morning, the sky was a bleak shade of gray as Evelyne rode toward the border of the Underworld. A small escort of Solmere's finest knights accompanied her, though they all knew they wouldn't be allowed beyond the gates.
The road was long and treacherous, winding through forests that grew darker the closer they came to Azrael's domain. The air itself seemed heavier, laced with unnatural energy.
Then, at last, she saw it.
Two towering obsidian doors, carved with ancient symbols that pulsed with blue light, stood before her. Beyond them, eerie shadows twisted, and the distant glow of hellfire cast an ominous glow over the land.
Her horse neighed nervously, sensing the presence of something far more powerful than any human could comprehend.
Then, they emerged.
Demon warriors in black and silver armor lined the entrance, their crimson eyes burning beneath their helmets. They were massive, their presence overwhelming, but it was the man standing at the center who commanded everything.
Azrael.
Evelyne had imagined a beast, a grotesque creature with claws and horns. But the man before her was strikingly human—and far more terrifying than any monster.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a dark cloak over intricate armor, the silver engravings catching the dim light. His raven-black hair fell past his shoulders, and his golden eyes—burning like embers—locked onto hers.
He exuded power. Control. Danger.
For a long moment, he simply studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, he extended a gloved hand toward her.
"Come," he said, his voice deep, smooth, and impossibly calm.
Evelyne hesitated. This was the Demon King. The one responsible for so much bloodshed. And yet… there was no malice in his tone.
Swallowing her fear, she slid down from her horse and placed her hand in his.
His fingers were warm.
Not the cold touch of a monster.
As Azrael led her through the gates, she realized something unsettling.
This man was dangerous, yes. But not because he was a demon.
Because he was far more than that.
And she had just become his queen.