The night was deep, and a burning crimson moon hung high in the sky, casting light on the blood-stained walls of Kalantu Fortress.
The Flamewing Army had been breaking through enemy lines for a long time. Iron armor and flames merged into one, with tattered flags and bloodstains scattered everywhere. On the high tower, Avelyn stood on the stone steps outside the throne hall. A corner of her scarlet battle robe was torn, and her fire-patterned armor was stained with blood and smoke. Her shoulders trembled slightly from the battle, but her gaze grew ever more resolute.
"You've finally come." She turned, looking at the man who stepped into the royal hall.
Lucian slowly removed his armor, his black battle robe soaked with sweat and crisscrossed with sword marks. He approached step by step, his pace steady and powerful, his eyes locking onto every inch of her skin, every breath she took. He said no more, only reached out to brush her blood-streaked cheek, as if touching a burning sacred relic.
"Do we... still have time?" Avelyn's voice was hoarse, her throat scorched by gunpowder smoke, yet her expression was hauntingly beautiful.
Lucian did not answer, only bent down to kiss her.
At that moment, the war seemed to retreat, and the rhythm of fate thundered in their intertwined breaths. His hand slipped through the gaps in her armor, his fingertips brushing her collarbone, tearing open the buckle of her already cracked chest plate—ripping off the battle garments that had long lost their protective purpose without a moment's hesitation.
Avelyn gasped, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like flowing flames. She grabbed Lucian's hair, her nails digging into his shoulder, retaliating with long-suppressed desire. They fell onto the stone steps of the throne hall, their scorching skin pressing against the cold stone bricks—a that almost made her moan aloud.
Lucian cursed under his breath, his throat rough: "I've waited for this moment... for far too long."
The instant he entered her, Avelyn arched her back sharply, her body trembling uncontrollably. Flames of heat erupted between them, each thrust like an oath spoken for the war, each gasp burning away restraint and taboo.
"Cry out, Queen Your Majesty." Lucian growled, biting her collarbone, "This time, you crumble in my arms."
Avelyn opened her tear-blurred, burning eyes, gasping out a laugh: "No—I am reborn in your arms."
Gasps and moans echoed through the throne hall, forgotten by blood and divine emblems. Their souls intertwined in this pact of desire and fate.
Before dawn, the war drums sounded again.
Eria led the remaining Silver Oath soldiers in a breakout from the north gate, rushing to report with the scroll left by the Soul of Casas. She saw the throne hall doors standing wide open—Avelyn, draped in a fiery cloak, stood on the steps, while Lucian leaned on his sword, blood staining his brow.
"The apostle of the Lunar Rift King has reached the northern border." Eria lowered her voice, "They carry the wind of the underworld."
Avelyn nodded, but there was a new fire in her eyes.
She said softly: "Then—the Pact of Royal Blood shall be completed today."
She turned to look at Lucian, her flame-like pupils shining with a beast's oath: "My body is yours, but my war is not over. Will you stand with me until the end?"
Lucian smiled, his grin sharp as a blade: "Until you personally pluck the crown from the gods."
In the distance, battle flags fluttered. The Divine Revelation Church had dispatched the Seven Luminaries Legion to advance on the southern border, while the followers of the Lunar Rift King began spreading prophecies to the world—"The blood of the Flame King shall burn away the laws of the gods."
And above it all, that whisper from the divine had already begun murmuring in Avelyn's ear—
"Fire is both a curse and the key to the throne."