The world seemed to narrow to a single point.
Lyrielle could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, loud and erratic, drowning out the whispers of the forest and the crackle of Kaelith's hellfire. His hand remained extended between them, steady and unyielding, as if he already knew what she would choose—even before she did.
"Come with me," he had said.
Live.
The word echoed in her mind, sharp and cruel.
Her Grandmother's grip tightened around her wrist, fingers digging into her skin as if anchoring her to the earth itself. "Don't," she whispered, her voice raw with fear and desperation. "Whatever he promises you, it will cost more than you can imagine."
Lyrielle's gaze flicked between them.
The woman who had raised her.
The devil who had found her.
"I don't understand any of this," Lyrielle said, her voice shaking. "You say I'm bound to you. She says I'm being hunted. Everyone keeps deciding my fate like it doesn't belong to me."
Kaelith's eyes softened—not kindly, but sincerely. "That," he said quietly, "is the truest thing you've said tonight."
The forest stirred uneasily, shadows stretching longer as the tear between realms flickered behind him. Heat rolled through the clearing in slow waves, wilting leaves and turning dew to steam.
Her Grandmother took a sharp breath. "Lyrielle, listen to me. He is not here to save you. Devils do not save. They collect."
Kaelith did not argue.
Instead, he lowered his hand slightly. "She's right," he admitted. "I will take something from you. One day."
Lyrielle stiffened. "What?"
Kaelith's gaze did not waver. "Truth. Power. Choice. All of it demands a price."
Her Grandmother's eyes filled with tears. "You see?" she pleaded. "This is what he is."
"And what am I?" Lyrielle asked suddenly, her voice rising. "A secret? A burden? Something to be hidden until the world decides I'm useful or dead?"
The words hung in the air, heavy and damning.
Her Grandmother flinched as if struck.
"I tried to protect you," she whispered.
"I know," Lyrielle said softly. "But protection isn't the same as freedom."
Silence fell.
Then the forest screamed.
Not with sound—but with presence.
The villagers had reached the clearing.
Torches flickered through the trees, their light distorted by the lingering magic in the air. Fear, anger, and certainty rolled toward them in equal measure.
"There!" someone shouted. "That's her!"
Lyrielle turned just in time to see a man raise a crossbow, his hands shaking as he aimed.
"No!" her Grandmother cried, stepping in front of her again.
Kaelith's wings flared.
The bolt never reached them.
It disintegrated midair, turning to ash before it could cross the invisible boundary Kaelith had drawn around the clearing. A shockwave rippled outward, sending villagers stumbling backward in terror.
Kaelith's voice dropped, dark and dangerous. "Leave. Now."
Some fled immediately. Others froze, caught between terror and hatred.
"She's a demon's whore!" someone screamed.
Lyrielle flinched.
Something inside her snapped.
The magic surged violently, hotter and stronger than before, racing through her veins like wildfire. The seal shattered another fraction, pain exploding behind her eyes as violet light erupted from her body.
The ground cracked.
Trees groaned as roots twisted and split.
"Lyrielle!" her Grandmother cried.
"I didn't choose this!" Lyrielle screamed, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't ask for your fear—or your hatred!"
The villagers recoiled as the fire bent toward her, responding to her fury with terrifying devotion.
Kaelith watched her closely—not with alarm, but with something like grim approval.
"This is what they'll do to you," he said calmly, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Everywhere you go. Every realm you touch."
Lyrielle's breath came in ragged gasps. "Then what choice do I have?"
Kaelith met her gaze. "Choose who gets to stand beside you when the world burns."
Her Grandmother looked at her then—truly looked at her—and something inside her seemed to break.
"This was never meant to be your burden," she whispered. "I wanted you to live quietly. Kindly."
Lyrielle reached for her hand. "You gave me life. You gave me love. That matters."
Her Grandmother's lips trembled. "If you go with him… you may never come back."
Lyrielle swallowed hard. "If I stay, I won't survive."
A sudden calm settled over her Grandmother's face.
She straightened slowly, shoulders squaring, eyes sharpening with a resolve Lyrielle had never seen before.
"Then I will make sure they cannot follow you."
Before Lyrielle could react, her Grandmother stepped forward and slammed her staff against the stone altar.
Ancient runes flared to life, blazing white-hot.
"No!" Lyrielle screamed. "What are you doing?!"
Her Grandmother turned back to her, smiling sadly. "What I should have done years ago."
The forest roared as magic surged outward—wild, sacrificial, devastating. The tear between realms widened, stabilized by the power being poured into it.
Kaelith's eyes widened slightly. "You'll kill yourself."
Her Grandmother nodded. "That is the point."
Lyrielle fought against Kaelith's sudden grip as he pulled her back. "Let me go!" she sobbed. "Please—!"
Her Grandmother met her gaze one last time. "Live," she said softly. "And never apologize for your power."
The spell detonated.
Light consumed the clearing, blinding and absolute. The forest screamed as the shockwave tore through it, erasing tracks, scattering villagers, and collapsing the path behind them entirely.
Lyrielle screamed until her throat burned.
When the light faded, the clearing was gone.
The altar was shattered.
And her Grandmother—
Was gone.
Lyrielle collapsed to her knees, sobbing, grief ripping through her chest so violently she thought it might kill her.
Kaelith stood over her, silent.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he knelt beside her and placed his cloak around her shoulders, shielding her from the heat and ash.
"You were loved," he said quietly. "That is not a weakness."
Lyrielle looked up at him, eyes hollow and burning. "If I go with you," she whispered, "I'm not yours to command."
Kaelith met her gaze steadily. "Good," he replied. "I don't want obedience."
She took a shuddering breath.
Then she stood.
"I'll come," she said. "But not because I'm afraid."
Kaelith rose with her. "Why, then?"
Lyrielle lifted her chin, violet light flickering faintly beneath her skin. "Because I want the world to regret ever teaching me fear."
A slow, dangerous smile curved Kaelith's lips.
He opened the gate.
And together, they stepped into hellfire.