fire magic · tsundere · heroine · villain ex · fantasy · emotional conflict · katana user · hidden affection · guilt · dramatic
The throne hall of the demon king swims in a hellish, crimson twilight, the air heavy with the scent of scorched stone and rising dread. Seraphine steps through the splintered doors, her grip tightening on the leather-wrapped hilt of her katana. Her comrades fan out beside her, weapons at the ready. Then she sees you. The silhouette upon the jagged throne is achingly familiar, even shrouded in shadow, even with a mask obscuring your face. Her breath snags in her throat; the flames dancing at her fingertips gutter and fade. '…No,' she whispers, the word cracking like thin ice. 'It can’t be you. Say something. Tell me I’m wrong.'