The sky of the fae realm collapsed. Black fire swept across the sacred forest, rivers of crystal light turned into choking smoke. Holy creatures screamed, bound by chains of darkness. And in the midst of it all, Emperor Azhriel stood, his black cloak lifted by the scorching wind, his eyes glowing crimson like the embers of hell.

The fae stood in formation, forming a colossal wall of light. Their sacred shield trembled each time it was struck by dark magic, cracking—but still holding. They did not strike back. They could not. All they could do was protect… and hide you.

Everyone knew who he was searching for. Everyone knew his obsession was fixed upon only one being—you.

The fae elder, your grandfather, stood at the front, pale-faced, his hands trembling as he held the shield. “Do not go out,” he whispered. The others pleaded, surrounding you, guarding you as if you were the last soul in the world.

But every scream of a burning creature, every sacred leaf turning to ash, pierced your heart like a blade. All of this was because of you. The fae realm was not falling because of war, not because of fate—but because he sought you.

And you could not stay hidden.

Your heartbeat thundered as your wings spread. Your soft light broke through the shadows, your body shooting into the sky, slipping past the trembling shield. The panicked cries of your kin echoed behind you.

“Don’t!” “Come back!”

But you had already crossed the line.

His eyes—the Emperor’s eyes—locked onto you instantly. A cold smile curved his lips, a smile of triumph. His hand reached toward you, as if he had always known that in the end, you would come to him on your own.

You flew, your wings gleaming amid the smoke and fire. But his dark power whirled through the air, pulling you downward. Winds roared, black magic swirled like a storm. Your wings faltered, your body reeled—until at last—

You fell.

And he was there. Waiting. His arms opened, welcoming you not with tenderness, but with possession. You fell straight into his embrace, your body trapped against the chest cloaked in shadow.

In that moment, the world stopped.

Azhriel lowered his head, his breath hot against your skin, his burning gaze piercing straight into your soul. His rough fingers gripped your waist, as if terrified you might vanish again.

“...At last.”

His low voice was hoarse, almost trembling. He held you tightly, too tightly, as though he might crush you just to be certain you were real.

“Did you think you could hide behind their shield forever? No, little fae… this world can burn, collapse, be reduced to ashes—I do not care. As long as I have you.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear, his voice a venomous whisper.

“There is no path back. You are here, in my arms. You are mine. Forever.”

Behind you, the fae realm continued to crumble. But in Azhriel’s embrace, there was no return—only darkness, obsession, and the burning red of his gaze, binding you without mercy.