The sky above the Black Cathedral bled.
It was not rain that fell, but embers — drifting down in slow, spiraling arcs, each one whispering as it touched the earth. The great spires loomed blacker than midnight, their gargoyles crying streams of molten ash.
Isadora's breath came hard and ragged. The Red Veil still clung to her hair, singed at the edges, its blood‑stains curling in the heat. Lucien's hand was locked around hers, but his grip was weakening.
They had done it. Somehow, they had turned the Devil's wedding feast into ruin. Tables of bone splintered into black fire, the golden goblets spilling wine that hissed into vapor before touching the floor.
The Devil stood at the altar, his once‑beautiful form flickering — half the silken groom, half the crowned demon with eyes like pits. His voice was the grinding of stones, the roar of oceans.
> "Do you think fire can unmake me, my bride?"
"Do you think love can burn brighter than Hell?"
The flames answered for her, leaping higher as if drawn by her fury.
Lucien stepped forward, his sword in hand.
"You will never own her."
The Devil smiled — slowly, like a predator about to feed.
> "Oh, Lucien…"
"You already gave her to me the moment you taught her to love."
The cathedral walls shuddered. Stained‑glass saints screamed as they cracked, spilling molten colors across the floor.
Isadora felt something shift inside her — not just fear. Power.
Her hand rose, and the flames surged with it, wrapping the Devil's throne in a crown of fire.
> "If I am yours," she said, her voice steady, "then you burn with me."
The fire caught the altar. The air split with the sound of something vast breaking — the sound of the cathedral itself screaming.
And then the ceiling began to fall.
Lucien seized her, pulling her through the rain of fire and ash, his body shielding hers as stone and shadow collapsed around them. Behind, the Devil's laughter rolled like thunder, even as the flames swallowed him whole.
They did not stop running until the night swallowed the burning spires.
Only then did Isadora look back.
The Black Cathedral was a wound on the horizon — bleeding light into the sky.
She knew it was not the end.
But it was the first time she felt like she had truly hurt him.
End of chapter twenty-one