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Tears On A Withered Flower

A withering flower at devil's mercy

“These bedchambers have missed your scent.” His voice, low and rough, made her pulse quicken. Her fear surged, boundless, as he closed the stained glass doors behind him. “Please… let me go,” she pleaded, trembling as he pulled her close, his touch burning against her skin. “You fled this place while carrying my child. Why did you come back?” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck as they had so many times before. “I… don’t know,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper. Luciana Mircea de Amanécer, princess of the Holy Empire that ruled the skies, had once lived in a world of beauty and privilege—a devoted father, joyful sisters, wealth, and a loving fiancé. Yet that life shattered with a single conversation. One day, her father appeared in her chambers, eyes solemn, bearing news that upended her world. “You will be married,” he said, but the name wasn’t that of the man she cherished. Instead, she was to be wed to the ruthless crown prince of the rival Demon Empire, an alliance forged to quell the simmering tensions between their kingdoms. “Father, please…” she begged. “My child,” he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “It is your duty as the firstborn princess. This marriage will protect the realm… and your little sisters.” For the first time in her life, Luciana saw him bow to her, his plea wordless but clear. Yielding to her father’s desperate request, she accepted her fate. In a single day, she went from princess to wife, her dreams abandoned and her future reshaped. But the white wedding gown was soon stained crimson, marking her descent into a life she could never have anticipated. Could she learn to accept a man for whom compassion was an unfamiliar luxury, or would the love she had left behind rise to rescue her?
Akira_Kanesada · 63.6K Views

Crimson Tears Of The Divine

Amidst the sea of fallen comrades, their lifeblood staining the earth, a solitary figure rises above the carnage. He stands atop a gruesome curtain of death, his longsword an instrument of divine wrath. In its gleam, one could sense a challenge to the very gods themselves. We were fools to face him; my comrades paid the price in their own flesh and blood. A desperate realization claws at my mind – a realization that I must escape this blood-soaked field and bring dire warning to the holy excellencies. I looked at my remaining comrades they instantly realized what I was thinking. They must know of this relentless force, this harbinger of doom. I looked at my comrades and as I turn to flee, fate intervenes, and our eyes lock in a moment of eerie connection. He looked at me and my comrades with his crimson red eyes. He swung his sword towards me. Why is the world upside down? I thought. Then I realized that my head was cut by his crimson sword. Time slows to a crawl as I find myself caught in the deadly dance of his blade. I see the malevolence in his eyes, a reflection of the abyss that has claimed so many. He cut through my comrades without batting an eye. The red moon casts an ominous glow upon the battlefield, and his crimson silhouette, now moving away, becomes a spectacle against the crimson canvas. With an inexplicable calmness, I embrace the darkness. As he strides away, the embodiment of destruction and beauty, I can't help but smile like a fool. Amidst the ruins and the echoes of my demise, I whisper to myself, "Beautiful!" - a final tribute to the twisted elegance that accompanies the brutality of this merciless crimson devil.
CelestialMountain · 2.7K Views
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