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The wind whispered secrets through the trees as twilight deepened across the land. Lantern moths blinked lazily in the dusky air, casting a faint shimmer over the undergrowth. Liora's boots sank into the damp forest floor as she pushed past a curtain of vines, her satchel bouncing lightly at her hip. She didn't know exactly when she had crossed the border. The human realm ended at the river Veil-yet somewhere along the way, her pursuit of the silver-leafed herb had carried her past it. She should have turned back the moment the air thickened, the light dimmed, and the silence grew unnaturally still. But curiosity was her weakness-and the forest beyond the Veil, they said, held magic unlike anything known to humans. Liora paused in a clearing where moonlight broke through the trees, illuminating the world in pale silver. She knelt beside a bed of dark moss, her fingers brushing over a glimmering silver fern. "There you are," she whispered. As she reached for her shears, a voice-low and rich like velvet soaked in wine-cut through the stillness. "You do not belong here, little human." Liora froze. She stood slowly, breath catching in her throat. Across the clearing, leaning against a blackened tree with ancient runes carved into its bark, stood a figure cloaked in shadow. The man-or rather, the being-was tall and lean, dressed in a high-collared black tunic embroidered with crimson thread that shimmered like fresh blood. His long hair, the color of midnight, fell around his shoulders in gentle waves. Twin horns curved from his temples, sharp and elegant, as though sculpted from obsidian. But it was his eyes that held her captive-deep red, glowing faintly like embers. Liora swallowed. "I didn't mean to cross over," she said carefully, voice trembling. "I was only looking for something to help a fevered child. I didn't realize I'd gone too far." The demon tilted his head. "And if I said the punishment for crossing into our realm... was death?" She met his gaze-nervous but defiant. "Then I suppose I'd ask you to make it swift." A long silence fell between them. The forest, impossibly quiet before, now held its breath. Then-he laughed. A slow, amused sound, low in his throat. "You're brave," he murmured. "Or foolish." "Both, maybe," she replied, her grip tightening around the satchel strap. "But I don't believe you'll kill me." "Why?" he asked, stepping forward. The shadows clung to him like silk, reluctant to let him go. Liora's heart thudded as he came closer. "Because... you're still talking." That seemed to surprise him. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes-something that almost looked like curiosity. Azrael, the Demon Prince of the Crimson Flame, regarded the girl standing barefoot among the glowing ferns, her cloak torn and her braid half-undone. She wore a simple dress-cream linen stained with soil and sweat, cinched at the waist with a leather belt. Not the garb of a warrior. Not the scent of a liar. "You're lucky," he said at last, voice cool. "Any other demon would have torn you apart by now." "Then it's a good thing I found you instead." She gave him a shaky smile. His lips curled faintly. "You don't even know who I am." "No," she said, honest. "But I know you didn't kill me when you could have." Another pause. Then, slowly, he extended a hand toward her. "Leave," he said. "And do not return. The next creature you meet here will not hesitate." She stared at his outstretched hand but didn't take it. "What's your name?" The glow of his eyes deepened. "Azrael." Her breath caught. She'd heard that name in whispered stories told to frighten children. The Crimson Flame. The merciless prince. The fireborn executioner of the Demon Court. Liora took a small step back-but then bowed slightly, her braid falling over her shoulder. "Thank you, Azrael," she said, voice soft. He watched her turn and disappear into the trees, her presence lingering like the faint scent of jasmine. For the first time in a century, Azrael stood alone in the forest with his heart not entirely still. The girl had looked at him-not with terror, but something else. Something dangerous. Something he knew he should forget. And yet... he couldn't.
Chapter 1 The Forbidden Forest
The wind whispered secrets through the trees as twilight deepened across the land. Lantern moths blinked lazily in the dusky air, casting a faint shimmer over the undergrowth. Liora's boots sank into the damp forest floor as she pushed past a curtain of vines, her satchel bouncing lightly at her hip.
She didn't know exactly when she had crossed the border.
The human realm ended at the river Veil-yet somewhere along the way, her pursuit of the silver-leafed herb had carried her past it. She should have turned back the moment the air thickened, the light dimmed, and the silence grew unnaturally still.
But curiosity was her weakness-and the forest beyond the Veil, they said, held magic unlike anything known to humans.
Liora paused in a clearing where moonlight broke through the trees, illuminating the world in pale silver. She knelt beside a bed of dark moss, her fingers brushing over a glimmering silver fern.
"There you are," she whispered.
As she reached for her shears, a voice-low and rich like velvet soaked in wine-cut through the stillness.
"You do not belong here, little human."
Liora froze.
She stood slowly, breath catching in her throat. Across the clearing, leaning against a blackened tree with ancient runes carved into its bark, stood a figure cloaked in shadow.
The man-or rather, the being-was tall and lean, dressed in a high-collared black tunic embroidered with crimson thread that shimmered like fresh blood. His long hair, the color of midnight, fell around his shoulders in gentle waves. Twin horns curved from his temples, sharp and elegant, as though sculpted from obsidian.
But it was his eyes that held her captive-deep red, glowing faintly like embers.
Liora swallowed. "I didn't mean to cross over," she said carefully, voice trembling. "I was only looking for something to help a fevered child. I didn't realize I'd gone too far."
The demon tilted his head. "And if I said the punishment for crossing into our realm... was death?"
She met his gaze-nervous but defiant. "Then I suppose I'd ask you to make it swift."
A long silence fell between them. The forest, impossibly quiet before, now held its breath.
Then-he laughed. A slow, amused sound, low in his throat.
"You're brave," he murmured. "Or foolish."
"Both, maybe," she replied, her grip tightening around the satchel strap. "But I don't believe you'll kill me."
"Why?" he asked, stepping forward. The shadows clung to him like silk, reluctant to let him go.
Liora's heart thudded as he came closer. "Because... you're still talking."
That seemed to surprise him. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes-something that almost looked like curiosity.
Azrael, the Demon Prince of the Crimson Flame, regarded the girl standing barefoot among the glowing ferns, her cloak torn and her braid half-undone. She wore a simple dress-cream linen stained with soil and sweat, cinched at the waist with a leather belt. Not the garb of a warrior. Not the scent of a liar.
"You're lucky," he said at last, voice cool. "Any other demon would have torn you apart by now."
"Then it's a good thing I found you instead." She gave him a shaky smile.
His lips curled faintly. "You don't even know who I am."
"No," she said, honest. "But I know you didn't kill me when you could have."
Another pause. Then, slowly, he extended a hand toward her.
"Leave," he said. "And do not return. The next creature you meet here will not hesitate."
She stared at his outstretched hand but didn't take it. "What's your name?"
The glow of his eyes deepened.
"Azrael."
Her breath caught. She'd heard that name in whispered stories told to frighten children. The Crimson Flame. The merciless prince. The fireborn executioner of the Demon Court.
Liora took a small step back-but then bowed slightly, her braid falling over her shoulder.
"Thank you, Azrael," she said, voice soft.
He watched her turn and disappear into the trees, her presence lingering like the faint scent of jasmine.
For the first time in a century, Azrael stood alone in the forest with his heart not entirely still. The girl had looked at him-not with terror, but something else.
Something dangerous.
Something he knew he should forget.
And yet... he couldn't.
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