Marked by the Devil’s Touch.

Chapter 19: A Heart Meant to Break

The Devil's mansion never truly slept.

Even in silence, it breathed—walls whispering secrets, shadows slithering like snakes beneath the floorboards, and the air heavy with power that could choke even the bravest soul. But tonight, it was not the house that tormented Liana—it was her own heart.

She sat by the window of her chamber, arms wrapped around her knees, the moon casting a cold glow over her pale skin. Her thoughts spiraled, trying to make sense of everything—Lucivar's mercy, his unspoken pain, and the deal that chained her soul to his world.

Lucivar hadn't spoken to her since that night.

After the cave. After he saved her. After he almost kissed her—then pulled away like it burned him.

"Why does he keep doing this?" she whispered, voice cracking. "Why does he save me, only to vanish the moment I need him most?"

The door creaked open.

She tensed.

But it wasn't Lucivar.

It was Ravel.

The silent butler bowed his head. "My lady, His Grace requests your presence in the east wing. Immediately."

Her heart skipped.

Was he finally ready to face her?

She stood, brushing the wrinkles off her dress, and followed Ravel through the winding corridors until they reached a door she had never seen before—black with veins of crimson running through the wood like blood.

It opened with a groan.

Inside, a dark hall stretched endlessly, torches flickering against portraits of Lucivar in every era—each painting colder than the last.

And at the very end, standing beneath a looming archway of stone and obsidian, was the Devil himself.

Lucivar.

His shirt was undone at the collar, exposing his chest. His eyes glowed faintly red under the shadows, and in his hand was a bloodstained sword.

Liana's breath caught.

This wasn't the Lucivar who had rescued her. This was someone ancient. Dangerous.

And beautiful.

"You called for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucivar turned to her slowly, and for a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his gaze—guilt? Fear?

"No," he said. "Your heart did."

Liana took a step forward. "Then answer it. Stop pushing me away."

"I should," he murmured. "But if I answer it… I will destroy you."

She frowned. "You won't."

"You still don't understand, do you?" He dropped the sword with a clang. "I am not a man who was cursed. I am the curse. I was born to bring ruin. You think you can love me, Liana? You think you can tame the Devil? Then tell me—can you survive what I truly am?"

He stepped toward her, eyes burning brighter.

And in that moment, the Devil let go.

The room around them trembled. The torches flared with unnatural fire. Shadows writhed along the walls. Liana gasped as the temperature dropped, her breath visible in the air.

Lucivar's aura—no, his very essence—was like a hurricane crashing into her soul. Ancient. Merciless. Overwhelming.

And yet…

She didn't look away.

"Then show me," she said, chin raised. "Show me the monster. Show me what you fear I'll run from."

Lucivar stared at her like he'd never seen her before.

Then, with a single breath, the illusion shattered.

Dark horns erupted from his skull, curling like a crown of death. Black tattoos slithered across his chest. His irises turned completely crimson, pupils vanishing into a demonic glow. Wings of pure shadow unfurled behind him—massive, powerful, and cruel.

He was magnificent.

Terrifying.

And Liana couldn't look away.

"Do you still want me now?" he hissed, voice distorted. "Knowing I could break you without touching you?"

"Yes," she said, barely a whisper. "Because the one who saved me lives inside you too."

Lucivar's hands clenched. His wings trembled.

He looked like he was at war with himself.

"I shouldn't want you," he said, voice hoarse. "But every moment I don't touch you… it drives me mad."

"Then stop pretending you're a demon without a heart," Liana whispered. "Because every time you saved me, every time you held me… you proved you still have one."

Lucivar's head lowered.

And then…

He stepped forward.

Slow. Measured.

His hand reached out, trembling, before brushing her cheek.

"You're not afraid?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I'm terrified," she whispered. "But not of you. Of losing you."

Lucivar closed his eyes—and kissed her.

It wasn't gentle.

It was raw.

Wild.

As if centuries of restraint had broken in an instant. As if he'd waited lifetimes for this moment.

Liana's knees buckled, but he held her like she was made of glass and fire all at once. The kiss deepened, searing with a desperation neither of them could hide.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Lucivar rested his forehead against hers.

"I don't know how to love," he said. "But I'll try. For you."

Her heart broke and bloomed all at once.

"I'll teach you," she whispered. "Even if it kills me."

Lucivar didn't move, not even to breathe. His forehead pressed against hers, the weight of centuries trembling in his silence. The wings behind him slowly dissolved into smoke, retreating like shadows that had tasted light for the first time.

Liana had never seen him so still—like even a whisper could shatter the fragile thing blooming between them.

Then softly, Lucivar whispered, "You should rest."

"I don't want to."

"You need to."

"So do you," she said, reaching up to brush her fingers against his jaw. "When was the last time someone held you without fear?"

His eyes fluttered shut. "Too long ago to remember."

And still, he pulled back.

Not far—just enough to place space between their bodies, but not their hearts.

"If I stay," he murmured, "I will cross lines I promised I never would."

"You already did."

That made him pause.

But it was the truth. He had kissed her like a man starved. Like her mouth held forgiveness and fire. There was no going back from that.

Still, he turned away.

Liana's fingers curled into fists as she watched his broad shoulders disappear through the black-veined archway. Her lips still tingled from the memory of his mouth. Her heart felt raw. Alive.

And utterly confused.

Because loving a devil wasn't supposed to feel like this—tender, trembling, painfully human.

---

The days that followed were quiet.

Too quiet.

Lucivar didn't summon her again.

He was gone before dawn, returned after dusk, and never entered her wing. Ravel only brought vague updates—news of unrest in the lower circles, traitors captured, threats rising from the bones of forgotten realms.

But nothing about Lucivar's heart.

Nothing about their moment.

Liana tried to pretend it didn't haunt her.

She wandered through the endless corridors of the mansion, her fingers trailing along the ancient walls, her ears straining for the sound of footsteps that never came. Each time she passed the east wing, her chest tightened. The memory of his kiss clung to her skin like a curse.

She tried writing him a letter once. Left it by the door.

It was gone the next morning.

But no reply came.

---

Three nights later, the silence broke.

Liana was awakened by a tremor. A distant boom echoed through the manor like thunder cracking stone. Her heartbeat stuttered as she sat up, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Another tremor.

This one closer.

She threw on her robe and bolted into the hall.

Torches flickered violently. The air reeked of sulfur and blood. And from somewhere deep below, she heard it—

Screams.

Not of the damned.

Of soldiers.

Lucivar's soldiers.

Ravel found her before she could reach the staircase. His face was pale, his lips bloodless.

"My lady," he said breathlessly, "you must return to your chamber."

"What's happening?"

"They've breached the southern gate."

"Who?"

"Those loyal to the Old Flame. The ones who believe the Underworld belongs to the ancient king, not Lucivar."

"Where is he?"

"In the courtyard. Alone."

Her heart lurched.

"Then I'm going to him."

"You cannot—"

"I will."

Before Ravel could argue, she was already running—barefoot through stone corridors, down spiraling stairs, past guards who shouted her name but didn't dare grab her. The scent of smoke thickened. Magic churned in the air like a storm begging to break.

And then—she saw him.

Lucivar stood in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by a circle of fire.

His sword glowed white-hot in his hand. Blood stained his shirt. His wings were out again, massive and menacing, coiled around him like a shield.

Demons surrounded him—twenty, maybe more. Cloaked in ash, snarling with hatred. They bore the mark of the Old Flame on their brows, scorched into their skin like a brand.

"You come crawling from your crypts to challenge me?" Lucivar's voice thundered. "You forget whose bones this palace was built upon."

"You've grown soft," one of the rebels spat. "You let a mortal woman into your bed and into your power."

Lucivar didn't flinch. "Speak of her again," he warned, "and I will rip out your spine."

But then—he sensed her.

His head whipped toward the archway.

Liana stood there, breathless, terrified—but unyielding.

"What is she doing here?" one of the rebels sneered.

"Leave now," Lucivar growled, "or I'll paint these walls with your entrails."

But they didn't run.

They lunged.

And Liana screamed.

Lucivar became fire.

He moved faster than thought—his blade cutting air, his wings slicing shadows. Flames roared from the ground, swallowing the nearest demons whole. Screeches filled the night. Magic cracked like lightning.

But they kept coming.

Too many.

One of them broke past his guard.

Rushed straight for her.

Liana couldn't move. Couldn't scream.

And then—CRACK.

The demon fell, a dagger buried deep in its skull.

Ravel stood behind her, panting.

"I said return to your chamber," he muttered.

But Lucivar… oh, Lucivar.

He was covered in blood.

Breathing hard.

Eyes locked on her like she was the last thing tethering him to sanity.

The fire began to fade.

Only ash remained.

And when it was over—when the final scream fell into silence—he dropped to one knee.

His sword clattered to the stone.

And in front of everyone, he whispered:

"I can't lose you."

Liana didn't care who watched.

She ran to him.

Knelt beside him.

Wrapped her arms around the monster, the king, the devil she was never supposed to love.

And whispered back:

"You never will."

---