The palace began to change.
The flames that once obeyed only Andra now flickered in sync with Lina's breath. Shadows followed her like loyal beasts. The cursed servants bowed without instruction. Even the walls—once cold, unfeeling stone—began to echo her steps with reverence.
Hell was watching.
And it was listening.
Andra noticed the shift. He felt it in the throne room, where the heat no longer curled at his feet first—but at hers. Where Lina, though draped in the same infernal robes, wore them like a battle flag instead of a prison veil.
"You've changed," he said one evening, voice low, almost cautious.
Lina stood beside a window of black glass, the molten rivers of the underworld glowing below her like veins of fire. Her expression was calm, but her eyes—those wild, burning eyes—held storms.
"No," she answered, turning to him. "You changed everything the moment you brought me here. You wanted to own me, Andra. But now… I am becoming something you never meant to create."
He stepped closer. "I gave you power."
"You stole my freedom," she snapped. "But what you failed to understand is that I don't need to escape. I don't run. I rise."
The flames behind her surged upward.
Andra felt the pull—the magnetic fury that drew him to her from the beginning. But now it was sharper. Dangerous. He had desired a prize, a possession to keep in his endless void of fire and dominance.
Instead, he had awakened a rival.
That night, Lina returned to the Heart—the ancient chamber where fire first obeyed her. There, the symbols on the walls glowed brighter than ever. She placed her hands against the stone, whispered her defiance, her rage, her will. The fire rose, coiling around her like armor, like a second skin.
Andra appeared, drawn to her like a moth to flame. He watched her in silence.
"You still want me?" she asked without turning. "Even now, when you know I can destroy everything you built?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then, in a voice that trembled with pride, possession, and something terrifyingly close to admiration, he said:
"More than ever."
Lina turned, fire in her hair, war in her eyes. "Then love me as your equal, demon. Or prepare to lose me to the fire you gave me."
Andra's breath caught—not from fear, but from something far more rare in a demon's heart.
Respect.
He stepped forward.
But this time, not as a captor.
As a king facing his queen.
And for the first time since Lina's fall into Hell, the flames didn't scream.
They sang.