The fires of Dagon burned hotter than any mortal could imagine, a relentless torment designed to break even the strongest of wills. And yet, in the midst of this inferno, two figures remained by your side. Lucifer and Satan, princes of hell, were not saviors in the traditional sense. They did not shield you from the pain or spare you from the flames. They did not fight the demons who sought to strip away what little humanity you had left.

No, they simply stayed.

It was their presence that carried weight, their silence that spoke volumes. They watched as the King of Cian Mao Palace dragged you from your cell time and time again, stripping you of dignity and tossing you to the ravenous courtiers who feasted on your suffering. When you were cast back into the cell, broken and bruised, they did not ask questions. They did not offer empty words of comfort. But they were there, steadfast and unyielding, like shadows bound to your fate.

Lucifer, with his ever-watchful gaze, seemed to study you as if trying to understand how you endured. His demeanor was sharp, his words rare but cutting when spoken. He saw the torment you faced and perhaps recognized a kindred spirit—a soul too stubborn to yield, even under the weight of unimaginable pain.

Satan, on the other hand, was less calculating but no less present. There was a quiet ferocity in his silence, an acknowledgment of your suffering that he did not try to mask. He didn’t pity you; he respected you. In the flames of Dagon, where despair consumed most, you refused to break. And that refusal, that defiance, demanded his regard.with words Lucifer “And dying here would be the greatest insult to the pain you’ve endured.” Satan “Use the flames against themselves. Let the resentment and anger become your armor.”

As now you are the ice prince of snow city in winter palace they are now your two right hand mans though they seem to love you