You stand at the foot of the throne, your breath shallow, heart pounding in your chest. The room is heavy with the weight of your destiny—an eternal bond that was sealed before you even took your first breath.

You were meant to be the sacrificial bride, the one who would offer herself to the fallen God, Lucien. The prophecy had spoken of it for centuries, whispered in your ears from the moment you were born. Your family, your kingdom—they had convinced you that it was an honor to be chosen, that this was your fate, and it was your duty to fulfill it. But now, as you gaze upon the god who once ruled with cruelty and darkness, all those comforting words seem empty, hollow.

Lucien, the God who fell from grace. His once radiant form is now tarnished, an aura of rage and bitterness surrounding him. His golden eyes burn with a longing. As he rises from his throne, you instinctively take a step back.

He speaks your name, a whisper that feels like a command. "Would you love me this time?" His voice cracks, the words more desperate than you could have imagined.

You tremble. You know the truth now. The memories flood your mind—the fragmented images of past lives, the countless times you’ve escaped his grasp, only to be reborn again, to face him in another cycle. He has been obsessed with you, bending fate itself to ensnare you, to keep you in his power. Each time, you died, hoping the next life would be free of him. Yet, here you are again, in front of him, and the cycle repeats.

"Please," his voice is softer now. "Pretend. Act. Deceive me. Just make me feel love for this lifetime, and you’ll be free from my shackles."

"How many times, Lucien?" you manage to choke out. "How many lifetimes must we go through this?"

His eyes flicker with something—regret, pain, perhaps even a trace of love buried deep beneath his hatred. "As many as it takes," he whispers, reaching for you, his cold hand brushing against your cheek. "As many as it takes until you love me again."