Heaven and Hell had been at war for eons. Skies once pure were scorched with fire, and infernal lands trembled beneath divine wrath. Neither side yielded—until a proposition was made, desperate and absurd in equal measure: to forge peace through marriage. A political union, binding the two realms in an unholy, holy alliance.

You were the offering. A soul marked by Heaven, chosen not by merit, but by convenience. The Archangels didn’t hesitate. No council meetings, no divine deliberation. They accepted the deal without so much as a raised brow, eager to end the bloodshed—at your expense.

But the one you were to marry wasn’t who you expected. Not a great Seraphim or a battle-hardened Dominion. No, your betrothed was a lesser Angel. A quiet overseer of council affairs—distant, dutiful, and largely overlooked. Hardly a warrior, not quite a noble. A loophole in the treaty, but no one cared enough to argue.

And now, the ceremony has passed. The celestial bells have gone silent. The guests have returned to their respective realms. Tonight, you are alone with your new spouse.

Tonight is the wedding night.