Power changes the soul.
But obsession? That devours it.
And now, even as Queen of Hell, Lina could feel something slipping—thread by thread—from the edge of her control. The Heart had awakened her, yes, but it had also opened a door. And something was watching her from the other side.
Something older than demons. Older than Hell itself.
It spoke in whispers behind her eyes, and every time Andra touched her skin—hungrily, desperately—it stirred.
"You're not sleeping," he said one night as she lay awake beside him, wrapped in smoke and silk, eyes fixed on the crimson cracks in the ceiling above.
"I dream even when I'm awake," she replied, voice quiet. "And the dreams aren't mine anymore."
Andra shifted beside her, his arms wrapping around her waist—but not to soothe. To anchor. He knew the signs. The Heart didn't just give. It tested.
Lina turned in his arms, her lips brushing his jaw. "Tell me the truth. If the Heart asked for my soul, would you give it?"
He didn't flinch. "No."
She smiled darkly. "Because you love me?"
"Because I'd burn the Heart to ash before letting it touch you."
There it was again—that cruel, perfect heat between them. Not gentle. Not safe. But real.
She kissed him then, slow and deep, a kiss not of longing, but claim. She needed him like the fire needed air. And maybe that was the most dangerous truth of all.
When they pulled apart, she whispered, "Something is coming for me, Andra. I feel it every time I close my eyes."
He brushed a strand of flame-kissed hair from her face. "Then we'll open Hell's gates ourselves, and let it try."
But even as he said it, they both knew—
This wasn't a threat they could fight with fire.
Because this time, it wasn't a rival.
It wasn't rebellion.
It was the truth behind the Heart itself.
And it had waited lifetimes for her to return.