Hell was not chaos. Not in Andra's domain. It was order by force—brutal, violent, unforgiving order. The rivers of fire ran on time. The screams of the damned rose in rhythm. And Andra, the demon lord of wrath and possession, ruled with a fist of iron and flame. Nothing in Hell disobeyed him. Nothing dared.
Until he saw her.
It was an accident—or fate, if demons believed in such things. A tear in the veil between worlds flickered open, just for a moment. Andra, towering and cloaked in shadow, looked through it with mild curiosity.
And that's when he saw the girl.
She walked alone beneath the trees, her bare feet brushing against fallen leaves, her hair tangled by the wind. Her name, whispered by the world itself, was Lina. A mortal. Fragile. Short-lived. Insignificant by all Hell's standards.
And yet, Andra could not look away.
There was something about her—something stubborn in the way she held her head, something fire-born in her eyes, like a spark waiting to catch. It infuriated him. It fascinated him. He wanted her.
He needed her.
And demons… they do not wait.
That night, the skies above Lina's world cracked with unnatural thunder. The shadows grew longer, colder. She felt the air press in around her, thick and heavy, as though something ancient was watching.
He came to her in dreams first—promises laced with honey and fire. He whispered of immortality, of thrones and kingdoms and pleasures beyond her imagining.
Lina refused him.
Again and again.
"I don't love you," she said to the darkness. "And I never will."
Andra did not understand rejection. Demons weren't made for love. They were made for domination. He didn't want her affection—he wanted her submission. And if she would not give it…
He would take it.
One night, the stars above Lina's world bled red. Fire split the sky as Andra tore through the veil, stepping onto Earth with smoke curling at his feet and the full force of Hell behind him. Before she could scream, before she could run, he had her.
Bound in chains of molten iron, Lina was dragged into the underworld—into the throne room of the demon who claimed her. A cathedral of flame and stone, built atop rivers of lava and surrounded by the screams of the damned.
She was his now.
"You are mine," Andra declared, his voice echoing through the burning hall. "You will be my queen."
Lina's voice, hoarse and furious, rose in defiance. "You can chain my body, demon. But you will never chain my soul."
Andra only smiled, cruel and victorious.
"We'll see."
And so, beneath the searing sky of the underworld, with fire as witness and shadows as guests, Andra forced the marriage. He crowned her in flame and sealed their bond with a kiss that burned.
A demon's love is not gentle. It is fierce, possessive, and consuming.
And Lina... she would either survive it—or become something darker than even Andra had imagined.