The war had ended, but the silence it left behind was louder than the gunfire.
Aira stood at the palace balcony, staring into the horizon where smoke still kissed the edge of the skies. Her silver hair fluttered with the breeze, but her heart was still. Too still.
She hadn't seen him since the last battle — Lucien.
The Devil Heir.
Not that anyone called him that openly, but in whispers and fearful glances, they spoke of the prince whose eyes turned crimson in war. Aira had seen those eyes once. Not in battle — but when he saved her.
Or was it when he tried to warn her?
"My Lady, the council awaits you," her maid whispered behind her.
"Let them wait," Aira replied, voice soft but cold.
She turned away from the view. The palace walls no longer felt like protection. They were cages. Secrets hid in the shadows. Her dreams were haunted — not by the war, but by the voice that called her name in the darkness. His voice.
"Aira."
She stopped mid-step.
The voice wasn't in her head this time.
She turned. And there he stood. Lucien. Dressed in black, cloak still stained with the dust of war, his presence devoured the space around him.
"You should be resting," she said, heart racing.
"So should you," he answered. His eyes scanned her face — like he was memorizing her. Like he had missed her.
"You disappeared," she accused.
"I had to."
"Why?"
He stepped forward, close enough for her to see the faint scar across his jaw. "Because if I stayed... I would have told you everything."
She blinked. "Then tell me now."
Lucien paused, then whispered, "You're not just a girl from the south, Aira. You're the reason the war started."
Her world spun.
"What do you mean?"
Before he could answer, the great bell of the palace tolled. Chaos erupted below. A rider had returned — carrying news that a rebel faction had broken the treaty.
Aira stared at Lucien. "Did you know this would happen?"
His eyes darkened. "It was never about peace, Aira. It was always about you."
Aira stumbled backward.
"Me?" Her voice cracked. "Why would a war start over someone like me?"
Lucien didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked over his shoulder, as if sensing eyes on them — or worse, danger creeping through the stone walls.
"You were hidden for eighteen years, Aira. Did you never ask yourself why?"
"I was told my parents died in a raid… that I was lucky to survive."
"You weren't lucky," Lucien said quietly. "You were chosen."
The word wrapped around her like chains — tight, cold, terrifying.
"Chosen for what?"
Before he could answer, a sudden boom shook the palace floor.
Guards screamed from below.
Lucien grabbed her wrist. "They're here. We don't have time."
"Who's here?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he pulled her into the shadowed corridor behind the grand throne room. The marble floor cracked beneath their feet as explosions echoed in the distance. Smoke slipped in from the northern hall.
"Lucien!" Aira shouted, struggling in his grip. "Talk to me!"
"You're not safe here. The king lied to you. Everyone lied to you," Lucien said through clenched teeth. "You're the true heir to the South Kingdom, Aira. The rebellion... they're coming to take you — dead or alive."
Her blood froze.
"You're lying."
He turned to face her, eyes glowing faintly crimson in the dim torchlight. "You felt it, didn't you? The power waking up in you. The dreams. The whispers."
She remembered. The nightmares. The sudden headaches. Her hands glowing faintly in the mirror one night.
"I don't want any of this," she said, trembling.
"You don't have a choice anymore."
Then the door ahead burst open.
A hooded figure stood there. A silver dagger in their hand, glowing with runes.
Lucien shoved Aira behind him, voice a growl. "Don't touch her."
The assassin didn't speak — just lunged.
Lucien moved like a shadow — fast, brutal — and in seconds the two collided. Steel met steel. Sparks flew. Aira backed away, heart pounding, eyes locked on the blur of battle.
But as she looked beyond the assassin, her gaze froze on something else…
A symbol — burned into the wall behind the intruder.
She recognized it.
It was the same symbol from her nightmares.
Her knees weakened. "No… it's real."
The truth wasn't just hidden — it was chasing her now.
Lucien's blade clashed against the assassin's with a furious clang. The flickering torches cast wild shadows as the two figures moved like beasts in a cage — violent, sharp, unpredictable.
Aira could barely breathe. She had never seen Lucien like this. Every movement was calculated, dangerous… monstrous.
He wasn't just protecting her — he was hunting.
The assassin stumbled back, hissing as Lucien drove his sword into their side. They slumped to the ground, gasping. But instead of retreating or begging for mercy, they grinned.
"You think this ends with me?" they whispered. "She was never meant to live past her eighteenth year."
Lucien's eyes darkened. "Who sent you?"
But the assassin bit down hard on something in their mouth — and in the next second, their veins turned black, body convulsing in death.
"Poison," Aira whispered, horrified.
Lucien turned quickly, grabbing her hand. "We need to move. Now."
They ran through the corridor, footsteps echoing behind them. Somewhere, alarms began to ring.
As they reached the back gate, a cloaked figure emerged from the mist.
Lucien raised his blade. "Who goes there?"
But the figure lifted a glowing amulet — and Aira's eyes widened.
That symbol.
It was the same one burned into her dreams… the same one from the wall…
And then the figure spoke, voice like silk laced with venom.
"You can run, Princess Aira... but you were born to burn."
Before Lucien could strike, the figure vanished in a burst of dark smoke — leaving only silence, the faint echo of a curse, and Aira's shaking breath behind.
The wind howled as Lucien pulled Aira through the garden, her bare feet stumbling against the cobblestone. Behind them, the alarm bells continued to ring like a warning to the world — a warning that the heir of darkness and the girl he wasn't supposed to love were on the run.
They stopped behind a stone wall, breathless.
"I... I saw his face," Aira whispered. "The man in the cloak. He—he looked like someone I knew…"
Lucien cupped her face gently, but his touch was trembling. "Don't try to remember now. We're not safe yet."
"But Lucien, what if it wasn't just an assassination? What if they wanted to take me?"
He looked at her, and for the first time, fear cracked through his mask of control.
"I think they already did," he said quietly. "The Aira I knew… changed the moment that symbol appeared."
She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Lucien reached into his coat and pulled out the glowing amulet the assassin dropped. It was pulsing now — softly, like a heartbeat.
Aira gasped.
It responded to her.
Lucien stepped back in shock as the amulet lifted into the air, floating before her, spinning slowly.
Then, with a blinding flash, it embedded itself into her skin — right over her heart.
"Aira!" Lucien grabbed her as she collapsed. She clutched his shirt, pain spreading across her chest like fire.
And then she heard it.
A voice.
Inside her head.
"They're coming for you, daughter of the sealed blood. You are no longer hidden."
Lucien looked down at her pale face, whispering her name over and over. But Aira's eyes were wide with something beyond fear.
She had remembered.
She wasn't just an ordinary girl.
She was marked.
"Aira, stay with me!" Lucien shouted, cradling her trembling form in his arms.
Her heartbeat was erratic, almost painful against his chest, and her skin glowed faintly where the amulet had merged with her body.
"What the hell is this?" Lucien muttered. He'd seen magic, blood pacts, even death rites — but this? This was ancient… forbidden. Something even the royal blood feared.
Aira's eyes fluttered open, glowing faintly with silver light. "Lucien," she whispered, her voice layered with something that wasn't fully hers. "I remember now... who I really am."
Lucien froze.
"You're not just Aira, are you?"
Tears slid down her cheeks as images flooded her mind — a burning palace, a screaming queen, a cradle drenched in blood… and a name no one had called her in years.
"Seraphina."
Her real name.
The heir to the lost bloodline that the devil heirs had sworn to destroy.
Lucien stood slowly, the truth burning through him. He was supposed to kill her. Her existence was a threat to his throne. A threat to everything.
But all he saw was the girl who saved him.
Loved him.
Chose him — when everyone else feared him.
Suddenly, gunfire cracked the silence. Aira flinched, and Lucien threw himself over her.
"Found them!" a soldier yelled from the shadows.
Lucien's eyes glowed a deadly red. "Touch her... and you'll regret breathing."
He lifted his head and whispered into her ear, "No matter who you are… or what destiny says… you're mine. And I'll burn this world before I let them take you."
The ground shook.
From behind them, the forest lit up in blue fire.
Someone else had come.
Someone who knew Aira's true identity.
And they weren't here to save her.
The flames had died down, but the battlefield still reeked of blood and betrayal. Lucien's arms were stained with ash and the scent of Aira's magic, a power so ancient it made the devil heir's blood run cold.
Aira lay unconscious in his arms, her silver-streaked hair spread out like a halo. Her chest rose and fell slowly, too slowly.
Lucien stared down at her, struggling to reconcile the girl he had married for revenge with the woman who had just risked her life to save him.
And now… she wasn't just Aira.
She was Seraphina — the lost heir to the celestial throne. The one his kingdom feared. The one the devil heir was supposed to destroy the moment she awakened.
The wind howled through the shattered forest, carrying with it whispers of an ancient curse. Lucien clenched his fists, the words of the royal elders echoing in his ears.
"If the blood of Seraphina rises, it will mean the fall of the devil reign."
And yet, she had saved him.
Lucien lowered his forehead to hers, whispering, "Damn it, Aira… Why didn't you tell me?"
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, glowing with that strange silver light again. "I didn't know... until now," she whispered. "I saw it... all of it. My birth, the massacre, the amulet... They tried to kill me before I could walk."
"Who?"
"My aunt. She was the queen… until she betrayed my mother. She said I was cursed, that the light in me would destroy everything."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "And now that light is mine to protect."
Suddenly, a distant crack echoed. Lucien looked up. From the northern ridge, silhouettes appeared — six figures cloaked in black, their hands marked with the sigils of death.
The Shadow Circle.
They had found her.
Lucien rose, placing Aira gently against a tree. "Stay hidden. No matter what you see… don't come out."
But Aira's fingers gripped his coat. "Lucien… there's something else."
He turned.
Her voice trembled. "I wasn't the only heir. There's another… and they're coming."
Lucien's heart dropped. "Who?"
Before she could answer, the ground split with a deafening roar. A figure emerged, cloaked in red, eyes burning like molten gold.
"Aira," the voice said, smooth and venomous. "Did you really think you could hide from your twin?"
Lucien pulled out his blade, rage flaring through his veins. "Get away from her."
The man chuckled. "I'm not here for you, devil prince. I came to claim what belongs to me."
Aira's scream tore through the air.
Lucien charged.
Steel met fire, and war began again — not for revenge, but for love.
And this time, only one heir would survive
Lucien's blade gleamed under the blood moon as he stood between Aira and the intruder. Shadows curled at the edges of the battlefield like silent serpents, and the figure cloaked in red tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips.
"You don't even recognize me, do you, dear sister?" the man said, his voice smooth and haunting.
Aira's lips parted in confusion. "You're lying. I don't have a brother."
"Oh, but you do. One who burned for years in the ruins of your past while you were hidden away, pampered by fate. I am the son of darkness born from the same womb. But unlike you, I wasn't saved—I was forsaken."
Lucien took a step forward, his sword aimed at the man's throat. "She's not alone anymore."
"Is that supposed to scare me, Devil Heir?" he sneered. "You're nothing but a pawn in a game you don't even understand."
Just then, Aira's amulet began to glow violently. Her body trembled. Her memories surged.
"I've seen you…" she gasped. "You were there the night the palace fell. You… killed our mother."
A cold silence fell.
"I was saving her," he snapped, his eyes narrowing. "From you. She chose you to carry the light. She condemned me to shadows."
Energy cracked in the air, thick and suffocating. Trees bent. The earth shook.
Lucien grabbed Aira's hand. "Run. Now!"
But Aira stood firm. "I won't run from my past anymore."
Lucien's heart slammed in his chest. "Then fight it beside me."
She nodded once, her silver eyes blazing.
The twin raised a hand—and a whip of fire burst toward them.
Lucien met it midair with his blade, the clash lighting the night sky in a blinding flare. Aira stepped forward, magic pulsing from her palms. Ancient symbols danced over her skin.
The war wasn't over.
It had just begun.
But just as Aira unleashed her magic—
A second figure appeared behind her.
Dagger raised.
Eyes empty.
Lucien screamed, "AIRA—!"
Everything exploded into darkness.
TO BE CONTINUED…