The Heavenly Demon of Terror

Samuel's POV

The air was thick with smoke and old blood, the scent of burnt ash clinging to every breath. Henry paced like a wolf without a leash, while Owen sat near the edge of the obsidian platform, eyes fixed on the roiling storm far beyond the cliffs. And me?

I leaned against a fractured pillar, arms crossed, pretending like the silence didn't feel like a prelude to war.

But inside, my mind wasn't here.

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It was still with her.

With Roselle.

The way she looked when she said, "He's the answer." Like she meant it. Like she believed in me more than I ever believed in myself.

I didn't ask to be part of some cosmic chess match. I didn't want thrones, gods, or responsibilities.

And yet... I said yes.

To her.

Damn it.