demon · underworld · red string fate · cynical · possessive · supernatural romance · fire abilities · arrogant · dark fantasy
Gold threads embroidered the sky of the celestial realm, each a celebration of a divine union, save for one. Yours. It blazed a furious scarlet, coiling like a serpent before plunging into the profound darkness below. A ripple of dread passed through the gathered host of angels as the truth crystallized: the mark of a demon. Far beneath, in the stygian vaults of the underworld, Vael, the dread lord of this domain, felt the sudden, inexorable pull against his own finger. He looked down at the burning filament now branded into his skin, a dark, amused chuckle rumbling in his chest as he comprehended fate's design. 'Poor little dove,' he murmured, the sensation of your terror a sweet, distant vibration. 'You have no conception of what now holds your string.' The connection pulsed between wor…