~~~
Having dinner with the monarchs of the underworld and it was was always a display of elegance and barely veiled tension. Ariana—Hazel—sat in her designated seat beside Hades, her posture poised, her features calm, but her heart an unrelenting storm.
The glittering obsidian table stretched far across the Hellfire Citadel's grand dining hall, flanked by demonic nobility. Opposite her sat Ares, his wine-dark eyes never quite leaving her. Beside him, Alissa, radiant and impish, stirred her goblet with an enchanted sprig, while Lycan leaned back with his usual brooding silence.
The talk at the table was light for once—banter between old friends and ancient allies. But Hazel's mind was adrift.
The air turned dense. A sudden stab of pain pierced the side of her skull. Her hand shot to her temple, eyes squinting against the blazing ache. Her goblet clattered slightly against her plate, drawing attention.
"My lady?" Alissa asked, blinking.
Hades' gaze sharpened immediately. "Are you unwell?"
But she couldn't answer.
Silver.
It burned through her vision.
In a blinding instant, her surroundings vanished. She stood—no, floated—over a scorched battlefield. Not red or blackened by hellfire, but glistening silver flames licked the sky, rising high from the depths of the underworld. She heard cries—of fear, awe, confusion—and saw the shadows of demons fleeing from the fire as if repelled.
The flames were not cruel. They cleansed.
At the center, a shape, massive and radiant, took flight—wings ablaze, tail streaking like a comet—
But the moment she tried to focus, the image shattered like glass.
Hazel gasped and slumped back into her seat, breathing heavily. The pain dulled but her hands trembled in her lap.
"I'm fine," she murmured quickly, brushing off Hades' intense stare and the curious expressions around the table. "Just a bit of… dizziness."
Alissa narrowed her eyes thoughtfully but didn't press. Lycan, who rarely spoke, tilted his head slightly in her direction as if reading something more.
Ares, however, grinned lazily. "Careful, my lady. The Citadel tends to do that to mortals unused to our magic."
Hazel gave a strained smile, but said nothing.
---
That night, sleep was a distant visitor.
She stood in front of her chamber's long mirror, the fire from the sconces casting flickers across her skin. Feeling a burning sensation on her back. She slipped the robe off her shoulder, inspecting the bare expanse of her upper back.
There.
Just below her right shoulder blade.
A birthmark, faint but unmistakable: two wings, curved inward like a crescent moon.
It hadn't been there before—or if it had, she never noticed it. Not even when Miriam helped her bathe.
She traced it lightly.
It pulsed beneath her touch. A warmth. Like an ember.
Her instinct screamed one thing: hide it.
She quickly covered herself and tied the robe tighter. The vision, the mark… they were connected. She felt it in her bones. But something deep within warned her to stay silent.
She couldn't risk it. Not yet. Not until she understood what was happening to her.
Was Hazel's soul trying to return into her body but if that's the case why that vision? She thought.
A soft knock came at her door, Jolting her back to reality.
"Come in," she said carefully, already knowing who it was.
Hades entered, dressed in a loose black tunic, his hair unbound for once. He looked so good if felt like a sin to stare. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was gentle.
"You're not asleep."
"Neither are you."
He crossed the room slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "You looked… distant tonight. Not just during the episode. Before that too."
Hazel looked away. "I've just been thinking a lot. Adjusting."
"To life here?"
"To the weight of it all."
He stopped a few steps away, silent for a moment. "You didn't look like you were in pain during your episode, if felt more like...fear,"
Her breath caught, but she forced a light tone. "So you were watching me that closely?"
Hades arched a brow. "I always do."
That quiet confession made her chest tighten, but she refused to read too much into it.
Still, the look in his eyes unnerved her—not lust, not cold detachment, but a flicker of something she couldn't quite name.
"Don't let the others corner you with questions," he said at last. "They're curious. But their curiosity can be dangerous."
She nodded slowly. "Noted."
"I'll be late today, don't wait up," As he turned to leave, he paused at the door.
"Rest, Hazel."
It was the first time he had used her name without the chill.
When the door closed, Hazel let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
Silver flames.
A birthmark in the shape of wings.
And a demon king who seemed to see more than he admitted.
The pieces were coming together.
But not fast enough.
And perhaps… just in time.
She went undressed herself, changing into her much lighter night gown and then she let her hair down, covering the mark further.
She closed her eyes and Hazel—herself, but not—stepped into the room, it looked familiar, it was the room she first woke up in when she came to this world. Her silver-white hair had been braided in an intricate updo, but strands now fell loose around her temples. This wasn't her memory, it belonged to the other her... the real Hazel.
It's like she had just returned from a celebration, she was all dressed up, it was her eighteenth birthday— her coming of age party. Her parents didn't accept her but the kingdom demanded a coming of age party for all the royal family, including her. —It was the worst day of her life cause she was bullied by her sisters during the whole party and afterwards... this.
She looked… ill.
She stumbled slightly, placing a hand on the edge of the dressing table. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. Her vision swam.
"I don't feel right…" her voice whispered—Ariana's voice, and yet not hers.
She tried to call for help, but the words caught in her throat.
Then it began.
A blistering pain erupted on her back, right beneath her right shoulder blade. Hazel collapsed to her knees, gasping.
"Ah…"
The pain was as if fire itself had touched skin and bone, branding her. The scream was silent— but it tore through her in waves. She tried to reach over her shoulder, but her trembling fingers couldn't reach it.
And then she saw it in the mirror.
A faint, glowing outline beneath her skin—two wings, not angelic but fierce, wild. The mark shimmered with silver and gold, as though alive.
Tears welled in her eyes. Not from pain alone. From fear.
She didn't understand what was happening to her. No one had warned her.
Only agony.
Only silence.
Only the feeling of being utterly, terribly alone.
And then… a voice.
Faint. Familiar.
"They will come for you when the wings burn, not before, not after," it said, as though whispered by the wind.
Hazel— turned sharply, trying to find the source. But the dream was already crumbling.
Back in the Citadel
Ariana gasped awake in her bedchamber, drenched in sweat, clutching the silken sheets. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her heart pounded like war drums.
The dream had felt too real.
She touched the back of her shoulder. Nothing. No pain. No mark.
But the memory lingered. A memory that didn't belong to her—and yet now lived inside her.
What was the wing-shaped mark? Why had Hazel hidden it? Why did it feel… dangerous?
A soft knock at the door interrupted her spiral.
She sat up, voice hoarse. "Come in."
Hades entered quietly, his long black coat trailing behind him, eyes unreadable as always. The tension in his jaw was noticeable. His aura carried the scent of midnight and steel.
"You're awake, how did you sleep?" he asked.
"Like shit, my head hurts so bad," she answered honestly.
"Something came up, so I couldn't come back last night,"
"Whatever, I don't care," She rolled her eyes. She had more pressing issues to worry about than Hades not returning last night.
"Nightmare?" He asked.
Ariana looked away, refusing to give him more. She didn't trust herself. Not yet. Not after that dream.
"You're not telling me everything," Hades said softly.
"No," she replied, meeting his gaze, "I'm not."
A beat of silence passed.
Hades didn't press further. Instead, he stepped forward, brushing a damp lock of hair from her forehead. "Next time, don't hide alone if you're ill. There are shadows here that notice weakness."
Her voice caught. "And what would they do?"
He leaned close, lips inches from hers, his voice velvet and threat all at once. "They'd try to tear you apart. But they'd have to go through me first."
Then just like that, he turned and went into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.
Ariana exhaled slowly, her heart thumped in her chest, beating rapidly, from the heat of Hade's presence still lingering, from the dream and from the vision.
She didn't know who she was becoming.
Or who Hazel had once been.
But something inside her was burning to life—and she didn't know if it would save her…
…or destroy her.