The Fire That Stands
Madeline
The chamber reeked of violence the moment the doors groaned open. It was not the fresh scent of blood being spilt, but the memory of it—the kind of rot and decay that clings to stones and never really fades, no matter how much time passes. It was like a dense wall of heat, smoke, and power that made the air feel as if it could peel your skin from your bones.
All eyes turned in our direction, and the room went quiet.
Lucien didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second did he second-guess what he was about to step into. I watched as he stepped into the massive chamber like he had never left, like the last five years had not changed anything. Nothing inside would dare to touch him.
Not here. Not him. Not the King of Hell.
The flames above our heads bowed—actual
