Ismael's POV
They said I was doomed. That binding myself to the weakest devil in Hell was the end of my story before it even began.
Fools.
They don't see what I see. When my blade burns brighter than steel, when the ground smolders beneath my steps, when smoke curls around me like the laughter of ghosts—who dares call me weak?
I carve my name into their fear. Every strike, every flame, every illusion—proof that I am more than bloodlines and noble lies. They think my fire is borrowed, that I'm dancing on a leash tied to some pitiful ember.
But the truth?
The leash snapped the moment I grabbed it.
I am Ismael Lightborn.Scholar. Genius. Devil's master.And this world will learn to fear my footsteps.
Scorch.Scorch.Scorch.The Devil walks with me.
Cinder's POV
Pathetic human.
He should've broken by now. The contract was supposed to shackle him, grind his will into ash, make him crawl as my servant. That was the design. That was the order.
Yet here I am—watching him wield flames I never gave him. Watching him swing a blade that sings with fire sharper than I can recall. Watching him laugh, mock, and fight as though the world itself bends to his stride.
I named myself Cinder, the ember fated to fade. A lie. A mask. And yet he—this reckless fool—took it as truth, shouted it with pride, and still… still… turned weakness into a storm.
Every step he takes, I burn with him. Every swing of his blade, my fire howls. And though I should despise him…
…I wonder if perhaps this boy has shackled me instead.
When he falls, will I rise?Or will I—strongest of devils, hidden in the ashes—burn the world at his command?