Solara is the only realm that resists them openly. Sariya’s warmth is a threat to them, and they know it. I’ve always admired her defiance, but even so, she obeys just like the rest of us, despite her resistance. The others? I’m not so sure. Virena plays her cards close to her chest, Kaelith is a coward, and Vor’Khar just does whatever. Elyistria is powerful, but secretive, I don’t know where she stands at all. She knows she’s a threat to the Divine Six, which is dangerous in itself. But neither have come to a blow as of yet. Noxthrallia is the only realm the Divine Six don’t bother with at all, leaving it to its dark and dodgy ways. They gave up trying to police the realm a long time ago and seem to enjoy the chaos they bring upon Earth.
My mind flicks back to Sariya’s words that have haunted me since we left her golden halls.
“When the time comes, you will need me, you will need my soldiers. And I will answer.”
Why would I need her army? Is war coming? If it is… gods help us all. Especially now that I have Daisy. Would they use her against me? Would they come for her, to twist my strength intoweakness? They’ve never had a way to wound me before. But now… now they do. And it terrifies me.
She stepsout of the bathroom, and I forget how to breathe.
For a moment, everything stills—even the storm outside the walls of Stormravan seems to hold its breath. Daisy stands before me not just like a queen… but a myth come to life. The Queen of Hell cloaked in the grace of light itself.
Her gown is made of flowing silks spun by Lumispires, the rare creatures of Luminaria. The fabric is pearlescent white with an inner sheen of silver and soft blush, rippling with light magic that responds to her every breath. Embroidered along the hem and bodice are golden runes of fate, glowing faintly—some of which I recognise as blessings, others I’m not even entirely sure of myself.
The neckline plunges modestly, forming a delicate heart shape framed by curling golden vines that wrap around her shoulders like living jewellery. Her arms are wrapped in translucent sleeves—slitted from shoulder to wrist—lined with flickers of starlight and stitched with Hellfire thorns in black thread, barely visible unless the light hits just right.
Around her waist is a slim girdle of onyx and gold, inlaid with ruby shards shaped like broken hearts. From it falls a split overskirt of sheer obsidian silk, cascading over the shimmer of Luminaria’s white fabric beneath—light and shadow dancing with every step she takes. At her thigh, a dagger rests in a black-lace sheath, the hilt wrapped in a velvet ribbon that bears my sigil. Her heels are delicate yet deadly—strapped sandals made of molten gold, the edges trailing soft wisps of smoke wherever she walks.
But it’s her crown that ties it all together. A diadem of white gold rests against her brow, shaped like a twisted halo of light and fire—pearls softly glowing beside ruby tips shaped like demonic horns, merging heaven and hell in one perfect, blasphemous arc. From the centre hangs a teardrop gem—a piece of glowing Luminaria crystal kissed by demon blood—hovering just above her forehead, suspended by an enchantment.
Her hair is left long, wavy, and threaded with tiny crystal blossoms, and her lips are stained the colour of fresh pomegranate, bold but soft. Her freckles are in full bloom now, each one kissed to life by the sun in Solara. Thirty-six of them, scattered like constellations across her cheeks and nose. Most wouldn’t have noticed them. But I did. I counted them every night as she slept. She’s Luminaria’s grace and Hell’s fire, woven into a single breathtaking form. My wife. My queen. She’s divine. Not in the way Elyistria is or Sariya, not in the way gods are born and celestials are made. But in the way a wildfire is divine—untamed, beautiful, inevitable.
“You’re staring,”she says softly.
“You’re glowing.”
She blushes as I step closer, closing the distance between us.
I brush my knuckles down her cheek softly. “Thirty-six freckles,” I mumble.
Her brows lift. “You counted?”
“Every night.”
The flush deepens. “Wow, you really are obsessed.”
She giggles, pushing at me with a hand in a playful way, and I grab hold of it, pulling it up to my mouth to place a kiss against her knuckles. Her engagement ring sparkles, and I can’t help the grin that takes over my face.
“You have no idea, little flower.”
She exhales, smiling despite herself. “This is it, huh? The last realm before Noxthrallia.”
I nod. “This one’s different though. Luminaria isn’t elemental like the others. Elyistria doesn’t command storms or sea, or war. She is the source of magic itself. All light magic, all good fate—it flows from her hands. She’s more powerful than any of us… though not more powerful than the Divine Six combined.”
“And they just… let her exist?” She asks.
“They fear her,” I say simply. “Because if Elyistria dies, magic dies. Every spell, every enchantment, every blessing, every good fate given. Gone.”
Daisy huffs, arms crossing. “Well, maybe I’ll have a few choice words for her about what the hell I did so wrong for her to not be on my side with fate.”
I smirk, not being able to stop myself from being a sarcastic asshole. “There’s a rumour that she always answers the pleas of the desperate. Maybe she heard yours and thought you needed a sexy seven-foot demon in your life.” I lower my eyes to her plump lips. “And your mouth.”
I flex, posing like some ridiculous Greek God statue just to make her laugh. It works, and she grins, giggling as I pull her in for a kiss.
Her voice softens. “Is this the end of hot-and-cold Korithax?”
I flatten my mouth into something almost like a smile, but shrouded with sadness. “I’m sorry.” I breathe, “I was trying to keep you—keep this—at arm’s length.” I gesture between us, tilting my head. “But it turns out, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stay away.”
“You stayed away long enough before Christmas,” she whispers, a trace of hurt curling through her tone.
