They rang the old bells at midnight.
Even though the church had been abandoned for 300 years.
Even though the bells had no ropes, and the tower had no stairs.
Even though the church had burned — twice.
But they rang.
And Isadora woke with blood in her mouth.
Not her own.
---
The mirror in her chamber was covered in velvet. Lucien had covered it before he vanished. But now, the velvet moved, as if it breathed.
And the whispers behind it coiled into one voice:
> "He waits for you, my bride."
> "The fire is almost ready."
---
The villagers saw her walking barefoot through the valley, white gown dragging in the dirt, eyes like the plague, breath like frost. And not a single soul tried to stop her.
Some say they knelt.
Some say they wept.
Some say their eyes bled just looking at her.
But all remembered the fire when she entered the ruined church —
and the door slammed shut behind her on its own.
---
Inside, the Devil was waiting.
Not as shadow. Not as smoke.
But in a man's body, wearing red robes, crowned in thorns made of teeth, sitting where the altar used to be.
> "You were always meant to return to me."
> "And you were always meant to burn."
Isadora smiled, but her smile was sharp. Fractured. Half-sane.
> "You took my womb and filled it with creatures."
"You took my name and turned it into ash."
"You think I'll marry you now?"
He stood, barefoot on the embers.
The ground cracked beneath him.
> "You already did, Isadora."
"That night in the garden. Under the blood moon. When you said 'yes' and offered your throat."
"Lucien only sealed the contract. But the body — the body was mine."
---
Then he held out his hand.
And Isadora bled from her palms. The mark returned — the sigil of his house, burned into her skin. She screamed, but didn't fall.
> "You were a girl when you came to me," he said.
"Now you are something else."
"A woman made of cinders. A mother of cursed children. My queen of ruin."
He moved closer.
> "Come. Let us be wed again. Under fire. Beneath ruin. Before Heaven looks away."
---
And then—
Lucien burst through the door.
His body was broken. His eyes wild. He carried no blade — only a heart wrapped in chains.
Isadora gasped.
> "Yours," he said.
> "I ripped it out. I kept it safe. It still beats."
"You can still be free."
---
But the Devil roared.
The church cracked.
And the walls bled smoke.
> "Too late."
> "She's mine."
> "Let her burn."
---
Isadora stepped between them. Torn. Shaking. Remembering everything and nothing. And in her chest — two hearts beat.
One hers.
One stolen.
One blackened by Hell.
---
And as fire licked the walls, and the bells melted into ash, and Heaven looked away once more—
Isadora turned, took Lucien's hand, and faced the Devil.
> "Then let me choose."
> "Let me be damned on my own terms."
End of Chapter Eleven.