The night the devil or should I say the curse, chose me,the sky wept.
Not metaphorically.
The sky in itself was dull and the storm went on nonstop in it's rage.
I was on my knees in the cathedral, chains of bondage adorning my wrists, cold and burning at the same time, carved with ancient runes meant to suppress and control magic.
Several eyes were on me—royals, nobles, priests, soldiers—waiting for fate's verdict as though my life were nothing more than a chess piece- a mere pawn for entertainment.
"The ritual may begin," the High Priest announced, his voice echoing through the stone walls of the cathedral.
"If the Dark King accepts her… she will live."
If not, I would sieze to exist by dawn.
I lifted my head, ignoring the ache wrecking my bones. "And if I refuse?"
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.
"You don't have that power child," the priest replied calmly.
Of course not, why would she.
I was Elara Valens—daughter of a fallen house, a political dent no one desired but everyone wanted to take advantage of. And tonight, I was an offering.
The candles extinguished all at once.
Darkness engulfed the cathedral, thick and heavy, pressing against my skin like a breath held too long. The runes beneath me ignited, glowing blood-red as the ancient summoning circle awakened.
Then the temperature dropped.
Not the chill of winter—this was deeper, more frightening. Like the world itself was bowing.
A presence entered the room.
Every organ in my body screamed run, but the chains held me down. Shadows pooled at the center of the circle, twisting and folding until they took shape—tall, broad-shouldered, crowned with ethereal darkness.
Gasps filled the cathedral.
Some fell to their knees. Others couldn't even look at him not to talk of moving.
The Dark King of Virex stood before me.
Kael Draven.
The devil of the eastern realm.
The cursed monarch.
The man rumored to have bathed his throne in the blood of his own father and ruled through fear and helplessness alone.
His eyes—pure hell, but not like how the stories claimed. They were green. Lifeless but deep.
When they locked onto mine, it felt like he was shedding off my protective shield, layer by layer, seeing things I had never dared to accept myself.
The silence stretched for a while before he finally spoke.
"She is weak."
The words were flat. They lacked interest.
Humiliation burned through me hotter than fear. I clenched and unclenched my fists, chains rattling.
"Funny," I said, my voice shaking in fright despite my anger. "You don't look impressive either."
A sharp inhale echoed through the cathedral. No one spoke to him like that. No one lived long after trying. Not like they even bothered to try.
His gaze sharpened.
In the blink of an eye, he was in front of me.
I didn't see him move. One moment he stood in shadows—the next, his hand was under my chin, forcing my face upward.
His touch was cool, possessive, inescapable.
"Careful," he murmured. "several tongues have been cut out for less."
I met his stare anyway. "Then do it. Or just leave me alone. Don't expect me to beg."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Interest, I presumed.
The air shifted. The runes flared brighter, reacting to something neither priest nor prophecy had predicted.
Kael's grip tightened slightly—not painful, but firm. Claiming.
"The curse reacts to her," someone whispered in terror.
Kael looked down at the glowing markings creeping toward my feet. Slowly, deliberately, he smiled.
A dark, dangerous smile.
"Well," he said softly, "this is unexpected."
The High Priest stepped forward, trembling. "Your Majesty… does this mean—"
"She.is.mine."
The words struck like a blade.
Mine.
The cathedral erupted into catastrophic chaos—voices shouting, prayers breaking, disbelief spilling everywhere—but all I could comprehend was the pounding of my heart.
I jerked against the chains. "No," I said fiercely. "You don't get to claim me like an an object."
Kael leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching mine. "i think you're getting muddle-headed," he said, his voice low and lethal.
"I didn't choose you."
The runes blazed white-hot.
"The curse did."
Even the chains shattered at his words.
Before I could move—or scream for help, like anyone would be willing to help me—shadows wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly into his arms.
His grip was firm, protective and imprisoning all at once.
"From this moment onwards," Kael Draven declared to the stunned kingdom, "Elara Valens is bound to me."
His thumb brushed my jaw, almost tender.
"My queen.
My bride.
My chosen one..."
His eyes darkened.
And just like that, I knew.
The devil hadn't come to destroy me.
He had come to keep me.