Rain fell in silver sheets over the outer district gallows.
A girl in black walked calmly through the mud... blood still staining her gloves, sword wrapped tight in black silk. Her cloak billowed like smoke.
Serenya Vale had a message to deliver.
And maybe a life to ruin.
---
They said the gallows boy had demon blood.
That he killed a noble's son with his bare hands.
That his eyes burned like Hell's gate.
But when Serenya reached the cage, what she saw was… disappointing.
He was just a boy.
Dirty. Shackled. Shoulders hunched like a stray dog kicked too many times. His face was half-hidden under a mop of silver hair. But his eyes… yeah. That was different.
Veylan.
She remembered the name from her first life. He'd been a ghost story...a cursed orphan turned executioner's apprentice. Back then, he disappeared right before the war began.
Now she knew why.
"What do you want?" he growled, not looking up. "Come to watch the freak hang?"
"Came to borrow a sword arm," she replied. "But now I'm reconsidering."
---
She stepped closer. The guards flinched.
One tried to stop her. She didn't even unsheath Vowbreaker. Just glared.
The man fell back. Smart.
She crouched near Veylan's cage.
"You're branded," she said softly. "Left shoulder. Thorn sigil. That's demon-crafted."
Now he looked at her.
Eyes black-ringed and burning.
"So is yours," he muttered.
A pause.
Then she smiled.
"Clever."
---
She broke the lock with a flick of her sword's aura..... silent, clean.
He didn't move.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you'll kill for me."
"And if I don't?"
She leaned in.
"Then I'll let them put your head on a pike. But we both know you'd rather bleed than bow."
Silence.
Then…
"Fine," he said. "But I don't follow queens."
"Good," she said, rising. "I'm not one."
---
They escaped in the chaos she lit with a single rune.....fire racing through the scaffold, guards too slow, too scared.
By dawn, they were in the hills outside the capital. Wind screaming over the cliffs.
Veylan sat near the fire, hands still bound.
"What's your endgame?" he asked. "The throne?"
She laughed. It wasn't kind.
"The throne can rot."
He looked at her then, really looked.
She stared into the flames, her voice soft:
"I'm going to break the chain that keeps Hell caged. And when the heavens come to stop me…"
She smiled with her teeth.
"We make them bleed first."
---
Back in the ruined chapel, the Demon King watched it all through the scrying mirror. His clawed hand rested on the crystal's edge.
"She's building an army," he murmured.
"Good," said the shadow behind him.
But he didn't smile.
Because for the first time in centuries, he felt afraid.
Of what she might become.