Geraldine opened her eyes to a portrait, the only portrait in this room, staring at her from the opposite wall. She didn't flinch. Her crimson demonic eyes locked onto it, glowing softly with a storm of restrained emotion. Pain. Fury. Longing. Loss. And love—terrifying, unyielding, eternal love. Emotions so potent that if unleashed fully, they would unravel the very fabric of the Demon Realm.
Everything she and he had built—everything birthed from the unholy, beautiful love between Lucifer and Lilith—would burn to ash.
The portrait was of a devilishly handsome man with skin pale as snowfall, his long, flowing hair was crimson, touched with threads of golden fire. His ruby eyes stared out as though they saw through time itself. A sharp jaw framed a smile that once brought kingdoms to their knees.
But what made the portrait truly sacred—untouchable-was—was the depiction of the black demon horns atop his head. Regal. Menacing. Sacred.
