The world was ending.
Not slowly. Not gently.
But with absolute certainty.
The sky had already collapsed into itself, fractured into countless pieces that hovered unnaturally above the ruined land. What remained of the world stretched endlessly in silence—burned, broken, empty of life.
There were no survivors.
There couldn't be.
At the center of it all—
She stood alone.
Silver light flickered faintly around her, unstable, restrained, like something too vast to fully exist in one body. Her long hair moved without wind, strands drifting as if pulled by something unseen. Her eyes—once soft, once human—now reflected nothing.
No hesitation.
No regret.
Only completion.
Aetheris.
She looked down.
At him.
Blood stained the ground beneath his body, dark and spreading, the only color that hadn't been swallowed by the end of everything. His breathing was shallow—uneven, fading.
But he was still alive.
Barely.
"…So this is how it ends," Cairis said, his voice low, rough, but steady in a way that made it worse.
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
Because she already knew.
"You chose it."
His words weren't accusing.
They weren't angry.
They were certain.
Aetheris's fingers curled slightly at her side.
"…Yes."
The word felt heavier than anything she had done to reach this point.
Cairis let out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through despite everything.
"…Of course you did."
Silence stretched between them.
Not awkward.
Not uncertain.
Final.
"You could've stopped," he continued, his gaze lifting slightly, finding hers even now. "At any point… you could've turned back."
Her chest tightened.
Just slightly.
"…And lost everything."
The response came cold.
Detached.
Because that was the truth.
Cairis watched her for a long moment.
Then—
He smiled.
It wasn't bitter.
It wasn't angry.
It was soft.
"…You already did."
Something broke.
Not the world.
Not the silence.
Her.
For a single moment—
The power around her flickered.
Unstable.
"…Don't," she said quietly.
But she didn't know if she was speaking to him—
Or herself.
Cairis exhaled slowly, his gaze never leaving her.
"…If this is the version of you that wins…"
A pause.
"…Then I'm glad I lost."
Her breath caught.
The silver light surged—
Violently—
The world trembled.
"…Stop talking."
But he didn't.
"…Liora."
The name hit harder than anything else.
Not Aetheris.
Not what she had become.
Liora.
"…You don't have to be this."
Silence.
Because that—
That was the one thing she could no longer believe.
The power around her stabilized again.
Colder.
Sharper.
"…It's already too late."
Cairis's gaze softened.
"…Then why are you hesitating?"
Her hand trembled.
Just slightly.
"…I'm not."
But she was.
Because even now—
Even here—
She couldn't finish it.
The world held its breath.
Waiting.
For her final choice.
And then—
Everything shattered.
Present
Liora gasped.
Her eyes snapped open as air rushed into her lungs, her body jerking upright as if she had been pulled back from something far deeper than sleep.
Her heart pounded violently against her chest.
Too fast.
Too real.
"…What was that…?"
The words came out breathless, unsteady.
Her hands trembled slightly as she looked down at them, half-expecting to see silver light flickering across her skin.
But the first thing Liora noticed was the smell.
Iron, sharp and bitter, mingled with the faint scent of burning lavender. She froze in the middle of her small garden.
And then she saw it: a man, or something like a man, sprawled across her flowers, blood soaking the petals beneath him.
Tall, impossibly tall. Broad shoulders and black hair like spilled ink. Two black, polished horns curved from his temples.
Liora blinked.
"…You've got to be joking."
A demon. One of those stories you only read about in old legends. And now it was in her garden. Right. Here.
She sighed. "…Of course."
Slowly, she approached, muttering curses under her breath. "Don't be dead, don't be dead…" Her voice trembled slightly, though she'd never admit it.
The demon groaned, a low, rumbling sound that made the hair on her arms stand on end. Good. Alive. Terrifying, but alive.
She crouched down, examining the wounds. Deep gashes ran across his side, and his black cloak was ruined, soaked with his own blood.
Even unconscious, his presence was suffocating. Power rolled off him in waves—ancient, dangerous, and… alive.
"…Great," she muttered. "Just perfect. Why me?"
The man groaned again, this time trying to lift himself. He failed, collapsing back into the lavender. Liora pinched the bridge of her nose. "…Idiot."
She dragged him toward the cottage, ignoring the protests of her aching arms. Every step was a negotiation with fate. By the time she got him inside, her patience had worn thin.
"Here. Indoors. Try not to die."
Silence. Then, red eyes snapped open.
Liora jumped. Crimson, glowing faintly in the dim candlelight, sharp, predatory. She tried to smile politely. "Hello."
The demon studied her, lips barely moving. "…Human."
"Yes?" she said cautiously.
His gaze sharpened. "…You're hiding something."
Liora raised an eyebrow. "…I have no idea what you're talking about."
He leaned closer, and suddenly, the air around them felt thicker, heavier, charged. "…You're lying."
Her stomach twisted. "…I really am not."
The demon's eyes flicked to the wooden beams, the herbs on the shelves, the faintly glowing runes carved into the floor. "…Magic."
She froze. "…Herbs," she said too quickly. "Very magical herbs."
He studied her for a long, silent moment, then tilted his head. "…Interesting."
And then he spoke, his voice low, smooth, dangerous:
"You're not afraid of me."
"I am," she said flatly. "Just… tired."
A pause. And then—he laughed. A low, dark sound that seemed to make the room colder. "…Strange human."
Liora swallowed. "…I could say the same about you."
Another pause. Then he whispered, almost to himself: "…Only royal witches can cast this barrier."
Liora's heart stopped. Her secret… somehow he could tell.
"…Who exactly did I fall into the garden of?" he asked finally, voice tinged with amusement.
And Liora knew: her quiet life was over.
…
The demon prince smiled slowly, crimson eyes gleaming.
"…I think I finally found her."