Crown of Sin, Wings of Light

The throne room smoldered, thick with panic, as Seraphina and Lucian lingered at the eye of the storm. Guards shouted orders, servants scattered, and the council's whispers ricocheted off marble and ruined glass. But Seraphina felt numb—her heart a hollow beat, her senses tuned only to the icy absence where her crown had glowed moments before.

Lucian's hand, strong and warm, helped her rise. His grip lingered—steadying, possessive, a silent promise in the chaos.

"They'll blame you," he murmured, voice pitched low for her ears alone. "The council, the angels—they'll say your darkness let this happen."

She let out a bitter, trembling laugh. "Let them come. I have nothing left to fear."

His gaze swept her—fierce, assessing, hungry. "You have me."

The words snaked around her ribs, sharp and soft all at once.

The captain of the guard, breathless and wild-eyed, rushed up. "Your Highness, the thief—he's gone. Vanished with the artifact. There is… blood, runes, traces of hell-fire. Only one house wields such sorcery." His words withered beneath Lucian's stare.

"We need answers, not excuses," Lucian snapped, his domininous presence cowing trained warriors. "Seal the palace. Let none leave tonight—not angel, not demon, not mortal. I will hunt whoever dares touch what belongs to her."

He turned to Seraphina, softer. "You cannot do this alone. If you trust me, I'll help you reclaim what is yours."

A memory flickered—his hands catching her as she fell, his shadow shielding her from judgment, his lips brushing her ear with forbidden promise. She remembered every reason not to trust a prince of shadows. Yet right now, nothing else felt real but his certainty.

A decision, reckless and wild, bloomed in her chest. "Fine," she said, chin high, wings trembling. "We hunt together."

As the halls emptied and night clamped its fist around her world, Seraphina and Lucian slipped into the palace underbelly: torchlit corridors where old blood stained the stones and secrets slept in shadow. Their partnership had always been unease and electricity—now, it was necessity, and something hungrier.

Pausing at an iron door marked in ancient glyphs, Lucian drew close. His breath ghosted her cheek. "They'll try to break you, Sera. But you are not breakable."

She turned, caught in the heat of his gaze. "Am I not?"

His thumb trailed along her jaw, possessive, adoring. "No. And neither am I."

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to their bodies: her pulse hammering, his scent and heat a dangerous comfort. The future stretched dark and bloody ahead—but Seraphina burned with resolve.

Together, they plunged into the depths, following whispers of hell-fire and betrayal. Somewhere, in the ruined city's catacombs, the Crown of Sin called for her—and she was coming to reclaim it, with the strongest protector at her side, and her own heart sharper than any blade.

As they descend, both danger and desire tighten around them, and the first true test of their alliance—and their lust—draws near.