The Saint-Queen Arrives in Chains – And Begs for the Collar
Three days after the capital learned my name, the gates of the Ninth Hell opened for a visitor.
She came alone.
No escort. No holy sword. No divine armor.
Just Saint-Queen Elowen, barefoot, dressed in a plain white shift soaked with three days of her own tears, golden hair matted, eyes swollen blood-red from screaming nightmares that now featured me instead of him.
She walked the entire obsidian bridge across the River of Souls by herself.
Every demon lord in the nine circles watched in absolute silence.
Because around her neck was a collar she had forged herself out of the melted fragments of Ascalon, her own holy sword.
And on the front, in her own trembling handwriting, was engraved:
PROPERTY OF DIRECTOR TANAKA – PLEASE ACCEPT MY SURRENDER
She collapsed at the foot of my throne the second she crossed the threshold.
Beelzebub stood at my right, wings folded, collar pulsing softly, eyes fixed on the floor like the perfect pet he had become.
I didn't speak for a long time.
Just let her cry.
When the sobbing finally quieted to broken hiccups, I leaned forward.
"Speak."
Her voice was raw. "I… I offer the entire continent of Light. Every kingdom. Every church. Every soul. In exchange for—"
She looked up. Met my eyes.
And whispered the words that broke the heavens.
"Collar me like you collared him. Make the nightmares stop. Make me yours the way he is."
The throne room erupted in demonic cheers so loud the ceiling cracked.
Beelzebub's tail lashed once in pure jealousy before he forced it still.
I stood.
Walked down the thirteen steps.
Stopped in front of her.
Knelt so we were eye to eye.
And smiled.
"Strip."
She tore the shift off herself without hesitation.
Stood naked, trembling, in front of ten thousand watching demons.
I circled her exactly the way I had circled him.
Trailed one finger across her collarbone.
Down between her breasts.
Over the scars she had earned killing my kind for centuries.
Then I gripped her chin and forced her to look at Beelzebub.
"See that?" I murmured. "That is the Devourer of Realms. The Final Boss of every prophecy. And right now he is jealous of you."
Her breath hitched.
I released her chin and snapped my fingers.
A second collar appeared in my hand, thinner, delicate, forged from pure starlight turned black.
I fastened it around her throat myself.
The moment it locked, every remaining holy mark on her body burned away in black fire.
She screamed.
Then dropped to her knees and kissed my shoes.
The sound Beelzebub made was almost feral.
I glanced at him.
"Jealousy doesn't suit you, pet."
He dropped instantly, forehead to the floor.
I smiled at both of them.
"Both of you. Follow me. Crawling."
And they did.
The Saint-Queen and the Demon King, crawling side by side on hands and knees behind me, collars glowing in sync, while the entire hells recorded it for eternity.
We didn't stop until we reached the private chambers.
Then I closed the doors.
And spent the next twelve hours teaching them both exactly who they belonged to now.
When I emerged the next morning, both collars had new engravings on the back:
ETERNAL