The fire no longer feared her. It followed her.
What began as defiance had become legend. Whispers stirred through Hell's dark corridors—of the mortal girl who walked like a queen, whose voice turned flames into weapons and shadows into shields. The damned spoke her name not with hatred or pity, but with hope.
Lina.
Andra watched it all unfold.
The demon lord who once tore the veil between worlds for her now found himself standing in the wake of a woman he could neither control nor contain. She moved through his kingdom like it had always belonged to her.
And perhaps… it did.
But Hell is not easily tamed.
And not everyone welcomed the mortal queen.
From the deeper pits rose whispers of rebellion. Old demons, bound by ancient pride, saw Lina as a threat to tradition. A human, ruling beside their king? A flame-blooded outsider wearing a crown never forged for her?
Unacceptable.
Andra summoned them to his hall—each demon lord wrapped in bone and fury, eyes burning with contempt. They demanded her removal. They warned him.
"She weakens you," hissed one.
"She turns your wrath into desire," spat another.
"You forget your place, Andra."
He sat on his throne, silent as the storm brewed around him. His eyes—usually a wildfire of rage—were calm. But dangerous.
Andra stood.
In one breath, he incinerated the nearest lord to ash.
"I forget nothing," he growled. "You speak of power as if it's something that can only be taken. She is not my weakness. She is the part of me that does not bow."
A ripple of terror spread through the chamber.
But Andra didn't care.
He had made his choice.
Later, he found Lina standing alone in the Heart once again, her hands on the runes, drawing strength from the ancient fire.
He approached carefully—not as a hunter, not as a king, but as something rare for a demon.
A man.
"They will come for you," he said quietly. "You are a threat to everything Hell has known."
She didn't flinch. "Then let them come."
Andra stepped closer, his voice rough. "They want me to cast you aside. To rip the fire from your soul and return you to the dirt."
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze without fear. "And what do you want?"
He was silent for a moment. Then—
"To burn beside you."
Lina blinked, startled not by the words—but by the truth in them.
This was no longer the same creature who dragged her from her world. He hadn't changed her. She had changed him.
"You once told me I was yours," she whispered. "But I'm not. Not unless you're mine, too."
Andra nodded once.
Then, in the silence between fire and flame, between demon and queen, he knelt—not in defeat, but in reverence.
Not a chain. Not a throne. But a vow.
And Hell shuddered—not in fear.
But in recognition.
The Queen of Fire had claimed her crown.
And the Demon King had chosen her.