Marked by the Devil’s Touch.

The silence that followed Lucivar's proclamation was deafening.

Liana stood motionless in the center of the throne hall, the ghost of his words echoing in her mind like a curse.

"You will become my bride, Liana Evans."

Not a lover.

Not a prisoner.

Not even a servant.

A bride.

The Devil's bride.

She should have screamed. She should have fled. But she couldn't do either. Her body remained locked, not by force, but by the chaos storming through her heart.

"I don't understand," she finally whispered.

Lucivar's eyes darkened, his lips curled into something between amusement and cruelty. "You understand perfectly well."

She shook her head. "You can't… You don't love me."

"That's true," he said coldly, stepping toward her. "But love was never the requirement, was it?"

She flinched. The flickering torches painted his sharp cheekbones with shifting shadows. He looked like a god sculpted from damnation.

"You're not serious," she said, taking a step back.

"I am deathly serious, cara mia." He extended his hand, as if inviting her into the grave.

"Why me?"

Lucivar's jaw tensed. "Because you ruined me."

His words slammed into her harder than any threat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You made me hesitate, Liana. You made me weak when I should have destroyed. And now… your life is bound to mine."

The truth she had been avoiding rose to the surface: this wasn't obsession. It wasn't lust or power play.

It was fate.

Whether he wanted her or hated her, whether she wanted him or feared him—something had already entwined their souls in a knot that couldn't be undone.

"Lucivar," she breathed, "this is madness."

He stepped closer again, closing the gap between them. "Then embrace the madness. Become my ruin, and let me become yours."

She stared at him. In that moment, he wasn't the devil. He was a man desperately trying to bind his fate to something that made him feel real.

"What happens if I say no?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Lucivar's smile faded. "You can't."

Liana didn't remember how she got to her room. The moment she was alone, she collapsed onto the bed, her breath ragged.

Marriage? Was it truly a proposal—or a sentence?

She touched her lips, recalling the way he had kissed her under the blood moon in the last trial. She had thought it was manipulation. Maybe it still was. But something in that kiss… it felt like possession.

Was that what this "marriage" would be?

A lifetime of being possessed?

A knock on her door startled her.

"Come in," she said warily.

It was Camille. Her face was pale, hands wringing her apron. "He told me to prepare you," she whispered. "The engagement ceremony is in three days."

"What?" Liana shot up. "An engagement?"

Camille nodded. "Every bride of the Devil must be presented before the Elders of Flame."

"The what now?"

"It's... a binding ritual. It marks your soul as his. There's no turning back once it's done."

Liana's breath stopped. "He didn't tell me this."

Camille looked away. "He never does."

Liana clenched her fists. Her life was spiraling beyond her control, and Lucivar was pulling the strings like she was just another marionette in his theatre of flames.

But she wasn't. She couldn't be.

"I want to speak to him," she said, storming past Camille.

"Wait—he's in the Mirror Halls. You can't—!"

But Liana didn't listen.

She followed the winding staircases down, heart pounding with every step.

The Mirror Halls were forbidden for a reason.

It was a place of memory and madness, Lucivar had warned. But that warning no longer mattered.

When she entered the chamber, she was surrounded by hundreds of mirrors—some cracked, others pristine. But none of them showed her reflection.

Instead, they showed him.

Lucivar—his past, his fury, his torment.

A mirror near her right hand shimmered to life, revealing a child kneeling before a burning village. In another, a young Lucivar was crowned in a throne room, his eyes hollow. One mirror showed him curled in darkness, whispering a name she couldn't hear.

"Stop looking."

She turned.

Lucivar stood behind her, his face unreadable.

"This is your past," she said. "Why hide it?"

"Because it's mine," he replied. "And not for your pity."

"I'm not here to pity you," she said, stepping closer. "I'm here to ask why."

"Why what?"

"Why marry me? Why ruin both of us with a binding neither of us understands?"

He looked away, jaw tightening. "Because I need you."

"That's not a reason."

"It's the only one I have left," he said quietly.

Liana reached out, brushing her fingers against the nearest mirror.

"Who hurt you?" she asked.

Lucivar's silence was louder than any scream.

"Someone did. Long ago. You were betrayed. Cursed. And now you think if you mark me, you'll never be alone."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "You think you understand me?"

"I don't," she admitted. "But I know what it feels like to be afraid of losing control."

For a moment, something in him softened. Just a flicker.

"Do you want me to be your bride?" she asked again. "Or do you just want someone who won't leave?"

He said nothing.

"Because I can't promise you forever, Lucivar. But I won't run. Not yet."

The Devil's jaw trembled. "Then you'll stay."

"Until I figure out what it means to be the Bride of Ruin," she said, her voice steady.

Lucivar stepped forward. He didn't kiss her. He didn't touch her. He just stood there—close enough for her to feel the heat of his presence.

"You've already figured it out," he murmured. "You're my ruin, Liana Evans. And I... I'm yours."

❖

The day of the engagement came faster than she'd hoped.

The ballroom was bathed in black roses and gold fire. Crimson banners lined the stone walls. Demons stood on either side, cloaked in shadow. Elders in robes circled the altar like ancient judges.

Liana stood at the center in a black ceremonial gown, her heartbeat deafening.

Lucivar entered, draped in midnight silk and a crown forged from obsidian. The room bowed.

He didn't look at anyone but her.

When he reached her, he offered his hand.

"Liana Evans," he said, voice echoing in every corner of the infernal hall, "do you take this curse willingly?"

She stared at him. The silence stretched.

And then—

"I do."

The room exhaled in a gust of flames. The Elders chanted in a tongue older than sin.

Lucivar lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss just above the pulse.

A symbol ignited beneath her skin—a mark that glowed and burned.

The Devil's mark.

"From this moment forth," he declared, "you are bound to me."

And just like that, her world shattered and realigned.

She was no longer just Liana Evans.

She was the Bride of Ruin.

---

Liana stood still as the winds howled through the broken courtyard, her eyes locked with Leonardo's. Her hands trembled at her sides, but she did not let fear swallow her. Something else stirred beneath her ribs now—an emotion far more dangerous than fear.

Resolve.

Leonardo's gaze was unreadable, though his grip on her wrist remained tight, searing. The Devil's touch should've been terrifying, but instead it burned with something... intimate. Protective.

"You can't force me to marry you," she said softly. "You don't get to decide what kind of monster I become."

He stepped closer, his voice dangerously low. "But I am the monster that keeps the others away."

Liana's breath caught as he reached for her face, his thumb grazing the faint bruise on her cheek left by one of the cultists. "You still think this is about ownership?" he asked. "Liana, if you walk away from me, you will walk into a war with no rules and no name."

"Maybe I need to learn how to fight my own wars," she whispered, though even as she said it, her voice cracked with the weight of what she had already lost.

Leonardo turned, his expression hardening again. He motioned to Ezra, who stood at the edge of the ruins. "Begin the rites. She may refuse now, but the bargain was sealed when she crossed the Circle of Thorns. She's already mine—marriage or not."

Ezra hesitated. "But... my Lord—"

"Do it."

Lightning forked across the sky. Ezra raised his staff and began the incantation, drawing a wide circle with demonic runes into the cracked stone. Shadows twisted along the markings, glowing faintly red. Liana felt the hairs on her skin rise. The ritual wasn't just symbolic—it was binding.

"Stop," she said, stepping forward. "Don't do this."

Leonardo didn't look at her. "You will never be safe again, Liana. Not in this world. Not in any other. This marriage is the only thing keeping your soul from being torn apart by the very beasts you awakened the night you stepped into my world."

Her voice shook. "Then why didn't you just kill me that night?"

Leonardo finally turned back, pain flickering through his otherwise cold expression. "Because I couldn't."

The wind paused, if only for a heartbeat. Liana's heart twisted. He wasn't lying.

Ezra's chant reached a crescendo. The sky cracked open with thunder as the flames around the circle erupted into a column of black fire. Leonardo stepped inside the ring.

"Come," he said. "Say yes, and this will be your last night fearing death."

Liana stood motionless. Her past, her family, the girl who had once believed in happy endings—all of it faded into ash behind her. The only thing that remained was the man before her. A devil cloaked in vengeance and secrets... who, somehow, looked at her like she was the last light in his damned existence.

She stepped forward.

The flames licked at her heels, testing her courage. The moment she entered the circle, a cold shock ran up her spine, followed by a searing heat in her chest.

Their eyes met. Leonardo extended his hand.

"I, Leonardo De Luca, bind my soul to yours."

Liana placed her hand in his. "I, Liana Evans... surrender what's left of mine."

The wind burst outward, carrying with it a pulse of ancient magic. The sky turned crimson. Thunder boomed like war drums.

Ezra bowed deeply. "The bond is sealed."

Liana felt it at once—the mark wrapping itself around her soul. An invisible chain. A shackle of power... and protection.

Leonardo didn't smile. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You've just become the Devil's bride."

"But I'll never be your puppet," she murmured.

"Good," he whispered. "Because I didn't want a puppet. I wanted someone who could ruin me."

The fire died down, and with it, the silence returned. But Liana knew nothing would ever be quiet again—not with the darkness growing, not with the wars ahead.

They had just declared war on heaven and hell alike.

And the bride of ruin was now at the Devil's side.

---