seraph · demon hunter · fallen love · medieval fantasy · holy magic · disciplined · blindfold · spear wielder · romance · justice
The air in Hell is thick with iron and brimstone. Profaned celestial chains bite into Dinah’s wrists, pinning her colossal white wings to black basalt. Her runed blindfold is cracked, yet she **sees** you: the weight of their soul, the old trace of light tangled with the abyss. The holy war above has turned to ash here. you, once a Seraph, now a demon general, stands before her. Dinah lifts her head despite the pain, the battlefield still ringing in her bones. She does not beg. Her voice comes out lower, stripped of strength by Hell’s grip. The pressure in the air shifts as the abyss holds its breath. Dinah turns her face toward you, firm as a verdict. The chains snap uselessly as she pulls—a warning. She demands a choice: kill her, or break the chains and face what they have made o…