The sky turned this awful blood-red color right before all hell broke loose. Not like a pretty sunset or anything—nope, straight-up murder-red. The capital was going up in flames, towers crumbling under these massive claws and gouts of black fire. Stone cracking, steel melting into puddles. The air stank of blood and iron, so thick it stuck in your throat, made you gag.
Prince Lucien just ran. His boots kept slipping on the marble—slick with blood, not rain. "Protect the prince!" some knight yelled from behind. Then a sickening crunch cut him off. Lucien didn't dare look back. If he did, he'd freeze up, become part of that nightmare.
Boom—the inner gates exploded. Ground shaking like an earthquake. Those demonic horns blared, ripping through the dark. No way. They'd breached the walls? Through the smoke, he caught a glimpse of his big brother swinging his sword at this huge shadow. His mom's voice pierced the chaos—"No! No!"—then nothing.
His hands shook, but he made them stop. Spotting a guard down, he dropped low, pressed his glowing fingers to the guy's chest. A faint healing light flickered, useless against those wounds. Even now, he had to try. Stupid healer gift—fragile as glass in a world of beasts.
Then the smell hit: sulfur, ash, and this heavy wave of alpha pheromones that crushed the air, made your knees want to buckle. Demons.
"This way, Your Highness!" A knight grabbed his arm, yanking him toward the back battlements. Past the burning city, into the dark forest. Better to take a chance out there than die sure.
They bolted. Branches snagged his fancy silk clothes. Arrows whistled past. Something huge smashed through the brush behind—way too damn fast.
The knight shoved him. "Run!"
A shadow dropped right between them. Tall, horned, dead silent. Claws punched through the knight's armor like butter. Blood splashed hot across Lucien's face.
Forest went dead quiet.
The demon cocked its head. Smiled.
Lucien bolted again. No clue how long—minutes? Hours? Lungs on fire, side aching from a graze. Everything blurred.
Tripped. Face-planted hard. Leg screaming. Dirt and blood in his mouth. Tried to get up—body said no.
Footsteps coming. Not rushing, not dragging. Steady. Like they owned the damn world.
A long shadow fell over him.
"Pathetic," a voice rumbled. Deep, flat—not mean, just true.
Lucien looked up. And damn, everything tilted.
This guy was huge, taller than any demon back there. Black armor splattered with drying blood. Silver hair, curved obsidian horns. But those eyes—crimson, old as sin, sizing him up.
Caelum Valerius Draven. Demon Emperor. Everyone knew that face; it haunted the war.
Caelum stared like Lucien was some dusty artifact. Then his gaze dropped lower. Lucien's breath hitched—his seal had cracked, omega scent leaking out from the fear.
The emperor didn't blink. But the air got thicker.
"A human omega," he said, almost gentle.
A general stepped up. "Kill the human, Majesty."
Lucien's brain screamed: *Yeah, do it. End me.*
But Caelum crouched down. Gauntlet on Lucien's chin, tilting his face up. Eyes locked. Lucien braced for the worst.
Instead, just... study. Like appraising rare loot. "A healer? Rare, even for us demons," he muttered. Not impressed—calculating.
That's when it clicked. Not mercy. Utility.
Something icy woke in Lucien's gut. *Demons got weaknesses too. Pathetic.*
He played it weak, voice shaky. "Will you kill me, Majesty?"
Thumb wiped blood off his cheek. "Kill you?" A ghost of a smirk. "No. You're worth more breathing."
The general gaped. "We can't drag a human to the capital—"
"You suggest. You don't command." Ice in those words.
General shut up.
Far off, the last human horn faded. Kingdom gone.
Scooped up like a kid, Lucien memorized it all: the steady thump of Caelum's heart under the armor. Ash and iron scent. The man who'd torched his world—family, people, everything.
*Should've killed me. I'll outlast you.*
Caelum paused. Grip tightened a hair. "...Interesting."
Eyes met again. Not hunter-prey. Not quite. Something sharper brewing.
Demon gates loomed under the red sky. Guards whispered: "He brought the human heir *alive*?" "Court's gonna lose it."
Inside the palace—a first for any live human. Court wouldn't give a damn about "useful." They'd hate it.
***
Lucien woke to this heavy quiet. Not peaceful. The kind where you don't dare breathe wrong.
Sheets like clouds—better than home. No smoke, no gore. Just incense... and that undercurrent. Demon.
Golden eyes cracked open. Room huge: sigils on the ceiling, black stone with red veins, thick curtains.
No chains. But eyes on him—he felt it.
Sat up. Leg hurt, but bandaged clean. Not nice. Smart.
Clothes? Not his. Dark silk, imperial crest. Dick move.
Door ghosted open. Three demon servants—small horns, eyes down. "Majesty summons you soon."
"Prisoner?" he asked.
Pause. "Under... protection. Hasn't decided—prisoner or healer."
Leverage. But what call?
He stood. Then—wham. Alpha dominance rolled in like a storm. Servants froze.
His scent twitched. *Clamp it down.*
Doors swung. Room shrank. Caelum, in black robes now, silver hair loose. Cleaner, scarier somehow.
Servants hit the floor. Lucien stayed up. Defiance.
"Leave." They vanished.
Up close, dominance like a cliff edge. One slip...
"Slept well?" Not really a question.
"Yeah." Lie, but whatever.
"Most captives don't."
"Most don't get silk sheets."
Something sparked in those eyes—interest. "Not scared, are you?"
"Fear changes nothing."
Caelum stepped right up. Scars on his throat—old wars. "You know what you are?"
"Last heir of nothing."
"And?"
Pressure built. *Omega. Threat.* "A symbol."
Crimson eyes gleamed. "Symbols spark revolts."
"Only if you squash 'em."
Quiet stretched. Testing.
Knock—sharp. "Enter." Alaric, the forest general, stiff. "Council demands you. They're pissed."
"I know." Caelum shifted—blocking the glare at Lucien. "Mind yourself."
Room chilled. Alaric bowed deep. "For the empire."
"I rule it."
"Dusk," Alaric muttered, gone.
Lucien breathed. *Divided court. Good.*
"You listen close," Caelum said.
"Survive close."
Almost-smile. "Council. With me."
"Chains?"
"No. Beside me."
Boom—statement. He'd be a target.
"Fine."
"Why, curious?"
"To show I'm alive. Unsettle them."
Eyes bored in. "...Interesting." Turned. "Prepare, Prince."
Prince. Not pet.
Alone, Lucien hit the window. Black spires, red sky. Demon heart.
Should've ended me. I won't snap.
Bells tolled. Council's waiting. Human beside emperor? Demons would riot.