The battlefield still smoked around them.
Damien's body trembled against Arianna's as she held him upright. Blood soaked his armor, his dark wings dragging across the ground.
But he was alive.
He had won.
Arianna pressed her forehead against his, the world fading away around them—the shattered land, the broken armies, the ashes raining from the sky.
"Damien," she whispered, voice thick with tears.
He opened his eyes, dazed, his silver gaze locking onto hers. A slow, exhausted smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You stayed," he rasped.
"Always," she said fiercely.
The ancient generals, the creatures of the castle, the shadows themselves—all of them bowed lower, their foreheads pressed to the earth.
Waiting.
Damien staggered to his feet, pulling Arianna with him, refusing to let go of her hand.
He turned to the ruined throne that rose behind the gates—a massive seat carved from the bones of fallen kings, crowned by burning black iron.
The throne of the Underworld.
His birthright.
But he didn't walk toward it alone.
He tugged Arianna forward with him.
Because she was no longer just a mortal girl stolen from her world.
She was his queen.
His salvation.
His curse and his blessing.
And he would never rule without her.
Together, they mounted the steps of the throne dais. The shadows shifted, whispering, swirling around them like living things.
At the top, Damien turned to her.
He dropped to one knee, ignoring the gasps of the generals and wraiths.
He held out his hand.
And in it, a crown formed—a twisted, gorgeous thing of black iron and obsidian, pulsing with the raw magic of the Underworld itself.
"Be my queen," he said, voice rough with emotion. "Rule with me. Rule me, if you wish."
Arianna's throat burned. Her hands shook.
She remembered the terrified girl she had been—trapped, kidnapped, desperate to escape.
And now?
Now she saw clearly.
Damien wasn't her captor anymore.
He was her partner.
Her destiny.
Her love.
Slowly, she placed her hand in his.
"I already do," she whispered.
Damien rose to his feet, sliding the crown onto her head with infinite gentleness.
The shadows roared their approval, the sky itself splitting with thunder.
Arianna felt the magic of the Underworld flood into her veins, accepting her, binding her to this place, to these people, to him.
And then Damien turned, sat upon the throne—pulling her into his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
He kissed her—there, before all the armies of Hell—claiming her, worshiping her, making a vow more powerful than any blood oath.
They were no longer just lovers.
They were rulers.
King and Queen of the damned.
—
The Days After
The castle was rebuilt from the ruins.
The lands of the Underworld—once ravaged by war—began to heal under Damien and Arianna's rule.
Creatures that had once known only bloodshed now learned loyalty. Shadows that had once whispered rebellion now whispered devotion.
And Arianna grew stronger each day.
Her magic, once dormant, blossomed under the black sun of the Underworld. She could summon storms. Command armies with a single word. Heal Damien's wounds with a mere touch.
She was no longer human.
She was something more.
Something terrible.
Something beautiful.
But Darkness Still Lurks…
One night, weeks after their coronation, Arianna stood alone on the highest balcony of the castle, staring out at the endless darkness.
Damien joined her silently, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.
"You're restless," he murmured against her neck.
"I feel…something," she said. "Like the world is holding its breath again."
Damien's arms tightened.
"I know," he said grimly. "Lucifer's death created a void. And power like that never stays empty for long."
Arianna turned in his arms, searching his face.
"Are you afraid?" she whispered.
Damien brushed his lips across her forehead.
"Not while I have you."
But deep in the abyss below the Underworld, something stirred.
Something ancient.
Something even Damien might not be strong enough to fight alone.
And soon, the real test of their bond would begin.
Not just against enemies outside.
But against the darkness still hiding inside themselves.
Because love, in the Underworld, was never simple.
And some wars were fought not on battlefields—
—but in the heart.