Novel Title: Married to the Devil, Sold to Lucifer
Author: Rapwizzy Debaron
Episode Title: Episode 1: The Devil Wears a Crown of Bone
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They said no soul returns from Tenebris.
And now, Lysandra Elarin Duskborne was being delivered straight into its heart.
The carriage rolled through ash and mist, pulled by beasts with glowing eyes and breath that fogged the glass. She sat in silence, pale hands clenched over her lap, her chains biting into her skin.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to run.
But her soul had already been signed away in blood.
A deal made by her father to save his dying son. The price? His only daughter.
She had been sold to the Devil as a slave.
And tonight, she would belong to him.
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The castle loomed ahead like something carved from a nightmare. Black spires kissed a sky of lightning. A twisted gate of bone and iron groaned open.
A chill slid down her spine as she was pulled into the cursed courtyard of Vael'tharis—the Devil King's stronghold. Even the air felt wrong. Too heavy. Too quiet.
Two guards with hollow eyes and stitched mouths dragged her out. Her feet stumbled onto black stone slick with rain. Somewhere far above, a bell rang—not a chime, but a slow, funeral toll.
And then, the doors opened.
He was waiting.
Lucian Vael'Zaroth.
The King of Flame and Shadow. The one who ruled all damned souls.
He stood at the base of a throne made of withered bones and burning glass. A long black coat wrapped around him like a storm. His silver eyes—so bright they glowed—pierced her like a blade.
He didn't smile.
He didn't blink.
He simply said, "Kneel."
Her knees hit the floor before her brain could object.
The air shifted. Heavy. Unnatural.
She looked up, slowly—only for their eyes to meet.
And Lysandra felt it. A clawed hand around her heart. As if something ancient had woken inside her and whispered mine.
Lucian moved closer, boots echoing like war drums on marble. He circled her slowly.
"You smell of fear," he said.
"I am afraid," she whispered.
"You should be."
The words sank deep, colder than ice.
"I didn't ask for this," she muttered.
"But you are mine, regardless," Lucian replied, voice calm, almost amused. "Your soul now wears my mark."
He reached out, and she flinched.
He didn't touch her skin—only hovered inches from her face, letting his magic seep into her veins like ink. Her breath hitched.
"You are fragile," he said softly. "You will break. And when you do… I'll remake you."
She didn't reply.
He turned. "Come."
"I don't want—"
"You are not here to want."
And with that, he walked into the shadows of the hallway, expecting her to follow.
Lysandra stayed frozen for one long moment, her legs weak, her lungs tight.
Then she stepped into the dark.
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She was led to a tower room with no windows. Only candles that burned black. The door slammed shut behind her.
She curled into the corner and held her pendant—her mother's—close to her chest.
She wanted to scream.
But even her screams felt afraid.
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To be continued…
👉 Like, comment, and follow for Episode 2: "The Bride and the Bone Crown." Will Lysandra survive her first night in Hell—or will the Devil begin to tear her soul apart?