The forest was alive with whispers of dread.
A man ran through the darkness, his breath ragged, his boots crushing damp leaves as the shadows seemed to chase him. His once-elegant robe was torn and muddied, streaked with blood. Panic flickered in his eyes like dying embers as he looked over his shoulder. The forest offered no refuge—only silence heavy with unseen eyes.
He stopped before a great oak whose twisted roots looked like claws reaching for the damned. Dropping to his knees, he unsheathed a dagger, it's edge glinting with an unnatural red hue. He drew the blade across his palm, letting blood fall onto the roots as he began to chant.
"Ispas de imala ni vodka aspas reva ni amor ve ka."
The air thickened. His blood seeped into the ground d and pulsed, glowing like molten fire. A burst of light erupted, and the man was flung backward, crashing into the tree trunk. Before he could rise, a calm whistle pierced the night.
A figure emerged from the shadows—a man in a black cloak and combat boots. His face was obscured by the darkness, but the cruel curve of his smile gleamed faintly.
"Running from me, your unholy eminence?" the cloaked man asked, his voice smooth and low.
The injured man scrambled to his feet, trembling. "My lord... what are you doing here?"
"That's a bold question." The cloaked figure took slow, deliberate steps toward him. "I made you my adviser, and yet I lost to the witches because of your incompetence."
"It was his will, not mine."
"Ah, my father's will?" A soft laugh escaped him. "So you serve him now?"
"I work for him," the man stammered. "He did not wish for you to harm his lover—or his son."
"That bastard is not my brother," the cloaked man snarled. "He was born of a witch. He is a stain on the demon bloodline."
"The demon world does not need you killing your own kin."
"You forget your place. Tell me, old friend... how does one kill a witch?"
"I cannot tell you that, my lord."
"You will," he said, his voice sharpening. "When my father dies—and he will soon—you'll have no one left to protect you."
"You mustn't—"
"Speak."
The adviser's lips trembled. "You need a child from an Arcane Demon."
"Why?"
"They are the only beings capable of killing witches. The child must bear your blood as well as that of an Arcane Demon."
The cloaked man's tone darkened. "And how am I to conceive such a child?"
"There's only one way, my lord. You must lie with an Arcane Demon."
A slow, mirthless smile spread beneath the hood. "Thank you. I'll see that your wisdom doesn't go unrewarded."
"Does that mean... I get to live?"
The cloaked man turned his back. A faint whistle echoed—then a red line appeared across the adviser's throat. His body swayed before his head dropped cleanly to the ground.
"Your reward," the dark lord murmured, "is a painless death."
And then he vanished into the shadows, leaving only the oak and the scent of blood behind.
---
Unknown POV
They say you should kill your enemies with kindness. Yeah, that doesn't work where I'm from.
In my world, we kill our enemies with blades, curses, and shadows. We don't forgive—we conquer. I was raised to be ruthless because weakness has no place in hell.
My name is Nikkira Sawyer, though everyone just calls me Nikki—the crowned princess of the Middle Chamber of Hell.
He'll isn't a single burning pit like humans think. It's a realm divided into three chambers: the Lower, where the lesser demons dwell; the Middle, where chaos and politics coexist; and the Upper, where the most powerful demons rule—the Royal Courts, the generals and the cursed few who remember love.
I'm not just a demon, though. My father is a superhuman—leader of the supervillains in the human world. Don't ask me jow a supervillain and a demon fell in love. Even I don't know. But their union made me something rare... something dangerous. In a few months, I'll turn eighteen and ascend as the Queen of the Middle Chamber. But to do that, I must awaken my full powers and take a fiancé. The problem? I already have the second but the first refuses to cooperate. My powers have been dormant for years. Mother calls it a disgrace. So now, I'm stuck attending a human school—because apparently, if I can't survive with mortals, I'm not fit to rule demons.
What could possibly go wrong? I thought. Turns out, everything.
---
The Human World – The Mendes Residence
Morning light streamed through the glass walls of the Mendes family's home. A woman, tall and elegant, hummed softly as she set breakfast. "Alan! Come down this instant!"
A muffled voice replied, "Coming, Mom!"
"Now! You'll be laye for your first day!"
A boy appeared st the stairs—a teenager with messy jet-black hair, ice-blue eyes, and a physique too perfect for his age. He wore his uniform crisply, except from the loosened tie and the rebellious way his glasses sat on his face.
His mother smiled. "You look so handsome."
He groaned. "Mom, stop. These glasses make me look like a nerd."
"For a superheroes son, you sure whine a lot," she teased.
Alan Mendes rolled his eyes and sat. "Who cooked?"
"I did."
"You're kidding."
She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He smiled innocently. "Nothing. Just... maybe focus on saving the world, not ruining breakfast."
"Alan!" she gasped, but he was already up, kissing her cheek.
"I'll make dinner tonight," he said with a grin. "Try not to blow the kitchen while I'm gone."
As the door shut behind him, she sighed. "What was I thinking making breakfast for that egoist?"
---
Hell's Gate and Earth's Crossroads were never meant to meet.
But fate has a sense of humor.
While the demon princess tried to survive the boredom of human classes, and the son a superhero disguised his lineage behind arrogance and charm, a prophecy whispered in the dark:
"When the blood of light meets bloodmof flame, the gates shallopen again."
Neither Nikki nor Alan it yet, but their destinies were already entwined—written in both hellfire and starlight.